Since starting this blog I haven't really shared to much of my actual survival story. I'd like to take this time to open up and let you all in..... There's some language and violence that follows.
I met my abuser many, many years ago. It almost seems like an eternity but it's funny how it all feels like yesterday. I won't really go into how we met but more or less tell you about our life together. My abuser, from the outside seemed like such a warm, caring and genuine person. To most who didn't know him, he was a great father and husband but to me, he gave evil a face.
Our relationship, like most other abusive relationships started out like a fairy tale. He made promises to always love and cherish me. Then everything started to change. Those words of love turned to words of hate and disdain. You're ugly, worthless, pathetic and useless. He slowly took my self esteem and made me really feel ugly and worthless. One thing that I've learned from my experiences is that my abuser masked his own inadequacies by lashing out and calling me all the names he secretly felt about himself.
Before I move on with my story, I compiled a small list of warning signs that the person you're with is abusive:
1. Shows extreme jealousy and wants to keep the woman isolated.
2. Has an inability to cope with stress and shows a lack of impulse control.
3. Has a poor self-image and blames others for problems.
4. Shows severe mood swings.
5. May have a history of abuse in his own family and may have been abusive in courtship.
6. Presents a history of personal and/or family discord; unemployment, cruelty to animals, abuse of alcohol or other substances, and other unexplained behavior.
In hindsight I can say my abuser exhibited every one of those behaviors and for reasons I still can't explain, I never paid attention. I always say I wouldn't change any of my life's experiences because I was shaped from those experiences, however, I wish I saw the warning signs and listened to those who tried to warn me.
As I stated earlier, the abuse I suffered started out as verbal. I was called names like slut, whore and bitch. I was called worthless if he came home and the house wasn't clean. He never took into consideration that I had worked all day. I was useless if I didn't get up at 2:30am and cook him dinner because he didn't bother to show up when I made the kids dinner. I was always fat when I wanted to eat and should have been thankful he even wanted to look at me.
Verbal abuse gets old very fast and quickly turns to violence. I remember the very first time my abuser was physical with me...It was shortly after we had gotten together. He was talking on the phone with his sister and I interrupted him by asking a question. He slammed the bedroom door in my face which I thought was extremely rude. I opened the door and as soon as it was opened far enough where he could see my face, he punched me and knocked me to the ground. I don't know why I was so shocked because the warning signs were there. I was speechless and hurt. I think I sat there for what seemed like hours, holding my face. I knew he was shouting obscenities at me but they were blocked out by the disbelief. I probably should have shouted back or lost control but the only thing that came to my mind was to withdraw myself. Be quiet because he may hit me again. Don't cry because he'll just tell you, you deserved it . Don't look at him because he'll show no remorse. I went to work the next day with a black eye. That was the first time he sent me flowers. I like to call them the "I'm sorry, I'll never do it again" flowers. I wish I could sit here and say it never happened again but that's not the case. It happened hundreds of times afterwards.
If I look at myself in the mirror I can point to a scar and tell you exactly the time I got it. I have two scars on my elbow where I had two different broken bones. Each was caused by my abuser throwing a bowl at me. I have one on my right leg where he threw a set of keys at me. Another one located on the back of my arm where he dug his nails into my skin because I wanted to get away from him.
The most serious of them all was caused by a night of heavy drinking and drug abuse. The night that left me badly beaten and bloody....
My daughter was staying at my parent’s house and I was home alone. He came home at 2:00 am paranoid because of the crack in his body. He woke me up out of a sound sleep by punching me in the abdomen. He was screaming at me because he saw my boyfriend running out the back door. My boyfriend? I didn't have a boyfriend. I didn't even have friends. Bitch I know he was here. I saw him, you lying whore. I knew you were a slut. I see it all over your ugly face. I'm not a whore. I don't cheat on you. I love you. Please don't do this. I've been home waiting for you. Please don't hit me. Please leave me alone. Bitch I know. I know all about your boyfriend. I feel his fist hit my cheek as the pain rushes down my face. I felt the blood pouring from the broken cartilage in my ear. I could taste the blood in my mouth from the split lip. I could feel the air leaving my body as he closed his hands around my throat. I hit the floor. The pain from his boot pierced my back. I tried to crawl to the bathroom...If I could just get to the bathroom, I'd be safe. Oh God please help me. Please help me. I'm going to die. My baby needs me. Please help me. Make it stop. Make him go away. If there's a God please make it stop. Blood was everywhere. I thought I was screaming for help but I couldn't hear anything but the ringing in my ears. Why wasn't anyone helping me? Didn't they hear me? The gaping wound on the side of my head, left when he struck me with a trophy, was pouring blood. My arm hurt so bad... I couldn't fight back. Blow after blow...punch after punch. I couldn't escape. I asked God to please make sure my daughter was taken care of because I knew this was going to be my last day on this earth. It was as if my prayer was answered. As quickly as his drug induced rage began, it stopped. I lay on the floor in a pool of my own blood, afraid to open my eyes. Where was he? What was he doing? I needed to escape. I opened my eyes long enough to see him peeking out the window. Something in the window must have caught his attention. The paranoia from the drugs had a grip on him. This was my chance. I gathered every ounce of courage I could muster and ran to the front door. Thank God it opened. I ran outside, no shoes, no coat, in nothing but a t-shirt. I screamed as loud as I could... Running down the street, battered and bloody...HELP ME!! SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME!!! HELP!! HELP!! I ran to my neighbor’s house. I pounded on her door for what seemed liked forever. Oh please open the door. Oh God please let her open the door. Hurry! Please! He's going to come. He's going to find me. Please! When the door finally opened, I remember seeing her face. She looked as if she had seen a ghost. I whispered to her, "Please help me". I don't remember much after that. I remember waking up and seeing lights; ambulance, fire department and the police. When I was asked who did this to me, the only thing I could say was... I don't know.
After all is said and done, I sit here with tears in my eyes as I relive the most terrifying moments in my life. It's still very hard to come to grips with the denial I felt at that time. Although this was almost 10 years ago, the emotional pain I feel is unbearable. I could have died that night. Instead of thinking about me and my child... I thought of him. I don't want to see the man I love in jail. It wasn't that bad. I'm still here. He promised never to do it again......
Matthew 24:13
"But the one who endures to the end will be saved."
No comments:
Post a Comment