Editor's note: October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month.

  With high hopes of eliminating stigma among welfare recipients and to speak out on domestic abuse, this is my experience with both issues, which seem to be very important in today's world.

I was in an emotionally and psychologically abusive relationship that escalated into violence between 1982 to 1987. I was told by my ex-husband, “;F,”; that I was a whore, good for nothing, a lesbian, ugly, fat, that I would never make it and that “;no one will want to take care of our two children.”;

“;F”; kept me up until 4 a.m. for two months in the summer of 1987, when we were living in California. He yelled, screamed and tried to force me to say that I had a relationship with someone else, but I could not admit to this because it wasn't true. He would shake me and make me sit upright if I looked like I was falling asleep.

“;F”; kept three loaded guns in a kitchen pantry and often had a gun beside him while he kept me up at night. His threats to use it on me, our two children, and our relatives and neighbors frightened me so much. After two months of living in absolute terror, my body dropped to the floor lifelessly one summer afternoon.

Due to “;F”; begging for forgiveness and promising he would change, our family's religious beliefs, a Catholic priest's stern recommendation that we stay together and having no money of my own to take care of my children, I stayed with “;F.”; Besides, I was told numerous times by many people that the abuse was just my imagination.

  It was a sweet honeymoon at first, but the abuse slowly returned. Afraid that my children and I would be in a life-threatening situation again, I walked out of our marriage one October morning in 1987 with nothing except our two children. We entered an abuse shelter for battered women and children.

I was 27 years old with no money, no friends and had barely enough strength to live another day. During the previous year, I had lost 70 pounds because I was anorexic and bulimic. I barely had enough strength to hold a drinking glass, let alone hug my children and tell them I loved them so very dear.

After a month of running and hiding from my ex-husband, my two children and I came back to Hawaii and applied for and received welfare benefits.

Later, I became a word transcriber at National Mortgage Co. with a monthly income of $1,300. I resigned after two years after being diagnosed with acute anxiety disorder and post-traumatic stress from the abuse.

My children and I went on welfare again, and I joined the Job Opportunities and Basic Skills Program (JOBS), which allowed welfare recipients to attend college or vocational training classes. I enrolled at Leeward Community College in 1993 and was placed in the PASS program that provided me with the foundation to attend the University of Hawaii-Manoa.

President Bill Clinton signed a welfare reform package in the 1990s making it mandatory for JOBS recipients in Hawaii to go to work 18 hours every week while attending school. I was among a handful of single parents juggling school and work.

  In October 1997, overwhelmed with school, work and being a single parent, I landed in The Queen's Medical Center three times in one month. I started receiving electroconvulsive therapy, which helped keep me from being admitted to the hospital. However, I had a hard time studying for exams as well as memorizing anything.

My ultimate dream of working for a newspaper is what helped me to persevere at UH. If it wasn't for Amy Agbayani, Doris Ching, Hawaii state Rep. Mark Takai and psychologist Wanita Willinger, I wouldn't have made it through school.

In the summer of 2000, I received my bachelor's degree in journalism. I was hired at the Star-Bulletin in 2002 and have been happily working here ever since.

Another dream that came true was that I remarried in November 2007 after 20 years being a single parent.

My worst nightmare was wondering what would happen to my daughter and if the abuse would start again in my second marriage. I was reminded by counselors, social workers and psychologists that a domestic abuse survivor often ends up picking another abuser the next time around.

Well, all those nightmares and worries have gone out the door. My present husband, Pancho, is 100 percent better than my ex-husband.

  Earlier this year, I thought I could finally put my former abusive life behind me and live for now and the future. But then my daughter was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress from what happened 20 years ago. Imagine! As a child, she had witnessed all that I went through in the abusive marriage.

Many survivors of abuse end up on welfare so they can take care of their children and themselves. But there seems to be a stigma on those who rely on government help. Rather than be judgmental, people should support and praise those who leave abusive relationships, as well as those who seek government help. And don't forget the children in domestic abuse relationships, because they suffer, too.