There comes a time in every writer's life where they have to get real and rather candid. Being a writer is being an artist with words and as an artist, one must be open to sharing a part of themselves from time to time.
I was inspired by a video I saw on Upworthy and while I gave a brief synopsis of my experience with the subject I felt that telling my story at length was the right thing to do as well as the lessons learned.
I do not pretend to be some great human being with some awe-inspiring wisdom or knowledge, I only offer my story.
I have written it before, in a brief Facebook note but perhaps that note was only for therapy and not a piece that could teach or grow beyond the experience.
I am also not saying that my suffering or journey is any more challenging or important than anyone else's story, this is just simply my story.
I am a survivor of physical and emotional abuse. To be clear, I was taught never to stay with a man who is abusive, just like most people. But, abusive was always sort of a gray area. I knew if he hit me that it was time to go. No one told me that if his words hurt, if he pushed me in anger, if he threw things, or if he grabbed me in anger that these could also be considered abuse.
I am not writing this to bash this person, I have forgiven this person and I am still thankful for the times that were nice for the time we were together. I am happy now in my life for the most part, and I hope that he is happy in his.
I met him in 2004. He was a bit strange and quiet and maybe the more outgoing particularly loquacious person I was back then sought to understand a person that embodied my complete opposite. I am not sure but before I knew it we were in a relationship and I was giving up time with friends to spend with him. During these times we would hang with his friends and I was expected to sit quietly while he and his friends played hours of Madden. No thanks, I thought that was the epitome of boring and one night I got fed up and walked out. I had better things to do with my time.
Apparently this was the worst choice I could have made, he chased me down the stairs, down the street, and into the dorms on campus. He got in the elevator with me and continued yelling and started shaking me until an RA intervened. He was written up for the incident. He did the normal thing an abuser does, he apologized for his behavior but that I made him so angry, and he promised to be better in the future if I gave him another chance. We went through this cycle quite often for the next year and a half.
In January 2006, I had enough of him treating me awfully and decided, in my immature mind at the time, to not answer any phone calls. He kept calling and calling, and sending angry text messages. He showed up at my place banging on the door and calling. My roommate, not knowing that we were not on good terms let him in and he kicked my locked room door open and proceeded to yell and scream at me and throw things around my room and grab me. I ran out of the room and ran to the restroom across the hall. He followed me there and cornered me and kicked out the panes of my bathroom window. I wanted this to stop and I wanted him out of my life.
Perhaps fate had other motives because later that month I found out I was expecting my son. I cried because of the timing and because I did not want this person in my life any longer. I told him that I was pregnant and all he could say was I'm sorry.
At this point I felt like I was stuck but on some level I thought I loved this person and so I stayed and said yes when he asked me to marry him. During the pregnancy he showed little to no regard for my comfort or feelings, and I spent quite a few nights on my own while he would be out late with friends. It was only when our child was born that he apologized for how he had treated me.
We married a few months later but I made it known that his past behaviors were still unacceptable and that they had no place for this next chapter in our lives, I said I never wanted to fight in front of or around our child. He agreed but I don't think he ever fully meant it.
Unfortunately, once we were married the abuse only got worse. In our brief marriage of 2 years and 1 month I had 3 major incidences of abuse and neglect and countless minor events that required me having to take long drives around the neighborhood until he would calm down. The first of these three major incidences came when I was majorly ill and I was not able to take care of our child. Everything else was more important than taking care of the family he made, I had a severely high fever, couldn't keep any food down, and could barely move enough to take care of our small son or change him or feed him. This is probably one of the worst days of my life. I ended up having to drive in this ill state from Richmond all the way to Northern Virginia to have any kind of assistance until I got better.
Another incident took place on his birthday where he insulted me and my religion, and got upset when I was ready to leave instead of sitting there in front of his friends and letting him belittle me for my choices and my faith. I got down stairs to the car and as I was putting our son in the back seat, he threw a beer bottle at us. He then proceeded to get in my face and push me into the street while my child was still in the car, in the back seat by himself. I managed to get into the car and locked him out. He stayed in front of the car not allowing me to move and kept trying to get in with his key. He then started tapping his wedding ring on the windshield. His friends finally came to get him when they heard the commotion and the neighbors had called the police. I left after that day for about a week. Per the usual cycle of abuse, he apologized, and promised to do better, to stop drinking, and to see a counselor for his anger issues. He only went once, and stopped drinking for a couple of months.
The last was in April of 2009, that was when I left. I have written this incident before in detail but in short, he went out for NASCAR, got really drunk, and came home angry and wanted to pick a fight. It escalated and before I knew it, a cabinet was broken, I had water all over my face and hair from him dumping a water bottle on me, and bruises from the cabinet being kicked closed on my arm as well as from him grabbing and twisting both of my arms. I opened the window in the kitchen and pleaded for someone to call the police because he would not let me use the phone. He actually had thrown it when I had attempted, and it shattered. Someone did make the call because they came and arrested him. I moved out the next day and made the decision to get divorced within two months.
The problem is if I had really recognized what situation I was in at the time and had been more realistic with myself and my feelings this all could have ended after the first incident in the elevator.
I am still skiddish when people are too loud or something gets dropped loudly. I lived with a person that if I said the wrong thing, it would be three hours of me being yelled at and scolded like a child.
The saddest part of all is that even as I write this there is some sort of weird Stockholm like conditioning that says to me this wasn't really that awful, you're pretentious and that wasn't abuse, not at all, people are going to think that you're exaggerating. Some of that is also from all of the times he told me those exact things, that it was my fault, that I was the one who was manipulative and abusive and selfish, that I abandoned my marriage.
There is something to be learned. Even though I strongly dislike this person, I still forgive them. Forgiveness was a major lesson to learn. Forgiveness, is not always for the person who did one wrong, it is for one's self. It frees one from the ugliness of the problem. It allows one to let go and move forward with life, because life is about the beauty of the business of living not the darkness and despair of regret and pain.
I also learned to love myself more and to only seek that which is worthy of me. I know I am a sane, intelligent, beautiful human being and while that may sound self serving or arrogant, so be it. I had to begin to repeat those things to myself everyday because if I had not I would still be a prisoner of those poisonous words he kept saying to me for the better part of five years.
I learned to let people go in my life that had nothing but poisonous words in their mouths to give. I can recognize certain behaviors in an individual that I know to steer clear of because of this experience. It is better to have people who add to your life in a positive way instead of subtracting.
I learned to be thankful. I learned to be thankful that I have a life beyond this. I learned to be thankful to the person who taught me this lesson, even if the lesson was ugly. Every moment is a lesson, every person is a teacher.
I learned to find my faith again, for in my faith there was strength, and that strength helped me to forge forward and endure.
I may still have to deal with this person on one level because we share a child together but I do not have to hate that person. Perhaps their choices were made for a reason that seemed valid to them at the time, it is not for me to say. I can only speak to what makes sense for me. I have learned to step out of myself to see from another person's perspective and to only greet others with love and respect regardless.
I learned to not take another person's issues or negativity into myself. Their issue is theirs and theirs alone, I can be a comfort in a time of need but I cannot take ownership. It is not my job to be responsible for anyone else's happiness and well being.
Maybe this post might seem silly to some and maybe this might help someone else. I hope it does the latter. Please know that no matter what the circumstance or severity of the abuse, it in no way means that its acceptable. Sometimes mean words are more than just mean words, sometimes, they are tools of manipulation to get you to stay. Please seek the help and guidance that you need.
The National Domestic Violence Hotline's website.
National Domestic Violence Hotline's number: 800-799-7233
Thank you for reading.
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