As some of you know, October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month and, even though I have waited until October 29th to blog about it (leave it to Random Kelley!), it’s an issue that is very real and very important to me. I hadn’t planned on my first official blog being about something so serious and personal in nature. I was kind of hoping for the first blog to be something inspiring or something humorous or maybe even a life hack to make life less stressful for someone. As I brainstormed for a topic, this one kept popping up. I tried so hard to ignore it. I wasn’t ignoring it because it wasn’t worthy or important, but because it was real…
I am a victim of domestic violence. I haven’t been very public about it and most of the people that know, only know that it happened but not what happened. Ever since I escaped my situation, I have wanted to speak up, share my story, be an advocate, raise awareness and maybe help someone escape their own abusive situation. I have had numerous opportunities to share my story and raise awareness, but every time I was pulled to speak out, I couldn’t find my voice. It was (and still is) very fresh to me and my emotions have rendered me speechless. I have felt so small and even embarrassed that I was a victim. I felt like if I admitted that someone had abused me that it would make me look weak or if anyone knew how long I had allowed myself to be in an abusive relationship, they would think I was ignorant. I’m struggling with these emotions at this very minute as I’m writing this. I have deleted and restarted this post about half a dozen times already and I’m not even 300 words into it… Nor have I even really begun to tell my story.
He was amazing when we met. He opened every door for me, told me I was beautiful every chance he got, he sent me the sweetest texts throughout the day, he would stop whatever he was doing if he saw flowers and pick them for me, he wouldn’t let me carry groceries in the house, he loved spending time with me and I felt like I had hit the jackpot. We moved WAY to fast with our relationship and I moved in with him. Before I knew it, I found out I was pregnant. I was afraid to tell him because I didn’t know how he would feel. I was 29 at the time and he was 31 and neither of us had children or even planned on having children. When I finally told him, he was just as scared as I was, but he smiled, and his exact words were, “Okay… let’s do it! We’re gonna be parents! This is going to be awesome!”. All I could do was laugh.
We started planning for the arrival of our child and as time went on, I started seeing a different side of the man that I loved so much. He had some issues that I hadn’t noticed before, but I wrote them off. I wasn’t a perfect human being so why would I expect him to be perfect? But then, he started to slowly control my life and play mind games with me. He did it so quickly and he was so good at it that I didn’t see what was going on. When I would speak up about it he would get angry, yell, cuss, throw things and then convince me that it was all my fault. Deep down inside, I knew better. I wanted to leave him before it went any further, but I kept thinking about the man I fell in love with and I just knew that he was still there. I made excuses for his actions like, he was just stressed over becoming a parent or worried about money, etc. I held on and he kept playing mind games until he eventually crippled me emotionally. He had me exactly where he wanted me.
He continued his up and down mood swings for months and I never knew from one minute to the next if he was the man I fell in love with or if he was the stranger that I was beginning to know very well. When he would lose his temper, I would become fearful that he was going to hurt me. He would even come toward me like he was going to hit me, but he never did, and he swore that he never would. I remember the first time he became physical. I was 7 months pregnant. I can’t remember what had him in a rage but I was scared to death. He kept coming at me like he was going to attack me, and I kept backing up until I eventually had my back against the bedroom wall with nowhere else to go. I didn’t like the feeling of being trapped and intimidated, so I looked him in the eye and said, “I swear to God, if you put your hands on me, I will f***ing kill you! BACK OFF!”. He came at me and tried the ultimate intimidation move… the chest bump. With my 7-month pregnant belly sticking out, his chest bump failed, and my stomach took the hit. Not only was I in shock that he got physical, but I was so worried about our unborn Daughter. After he finally calmed down from that rant, he said he didn’t mean to make physical contact. He was trying to intimidate me and was closer than he realized…. He denied or downplayed every physical encounter afterward.
Every fit of rage he had from that moment on would become physical in one way or another. He would grab me by my shirt and drag me or throw me down, spit on me, throw things at me… He always justified his abuse by making it clear that he had never hit me, and he never would. The month before our daughter was born, he was rarely home. He would work and then go visit a friend or spend the entire evening in the garage with the music cranked up, working on a project. And I was relieved. I spent that month “nesting” in peace and praying that the birth of his daughter would change his heart.
On May 24, 2016, our beautiful daughter was born. “He” was humbled by her arrival and thanked me for giving him this beautiful miracle. It wasn’t very long before the abuse started back up. I would take care of the baby all night while he slept and all day while he worked. When he came home, he would leave or seclude himself in the garage until she went to bed. He would come in and expect sex and then he would go to bed, and I would take care of the baby all night again. He never helped with feeding or diaper changes. He never got up to help when she would cry. He only wanted to spend time with her when HE felt like it. When she went to sleep, he would have his fits of rage. He would choke me, slam me into walls, throw things at me, push me and pull me around.
On the morning of October 2, 2016, my life changed forever. I didn’t realize until later that it was the beginning of Domestic Violence Awareness Month… Our daughter (who was a little over 4 months old) woke up crying. I brought her into our bedroom and “He” told me he would keep her occupied while I made a bottle for her. That was the first time he showed interest in her and it made me smile. I made her bottle and returned to the bedroom. He had tears in his eyes and a smile on his face as he spoke to her and sang songs. She was so happy. He was so happy. I was beyond happy in that moment. He said that if I changed her diaper that he would give her a bottle. I changed her diaper and as I finished he said something that scared me. “You don’t love me”. I told him that I did. He just kept saying it over and over. He said, “If you really love me, give me a hug”. With our daughter (safely) on the bed, I stood up as he approached me, and I hugged him.
I started to let go of him, but he didn’t let go of me. He started squeezing me tighter and tighter. I begged him to stop because I couldn’t breathe. With me tightly in his grip, he fell backward onto the bed with me on top of him and that’s when my ribs broke. I begged him to stop. When I got free, I fell to the floor and told him my ribs were broken. He called me a liar and said, “If you want a monster, I’ll give you a monster!”. With our daughter crying and only 5 feet away, he pushed me as I tried to get up and I ended up in a ball on the floor, against a wall while he beat me. I tried to call 911 when he left the room, but he returned, threw the phone against the wall and continued what he started. He grabbed a knife and as we struggled on the ground, he ended up slicing my hand open. Blood was everywhere and when he saw it, he stopped.
He ended up calling 911 on himself and sat on the porch waiting for the police and ambulance. I was covered in blood, with broken ribs, holding my scared child for what seemed like hours until the police showed up.
He was charged with Domestic Battery in the presence of a child under the age of 16, Criminal Confinement and Interfering with and Emergency Phone Call. He was released 2 days later on bond. When his case was concluded, he was only convicted of a Misdemeanor charge of Battery Resulting in Bodily Injury… A year of probation…
I had to continue to raise and care for our daughter with broken ribs, one working hand and emotional scars that never did heal. I am not the same person. The man I’m with now has to deal with my emotional instability, insecurities, severe depression and my fear of life in general. I have lost so much due to the abuse I endured.
That is my story. The short version. Please take the time to follow the link below and read some alarming statistics of domestic abuse. Browse the rest of the website afterward. Share the link to the site on social media. Share this post. Raise awareness. Be a voice for the voiceless.
http://www.thehotline.org/resources/statistics/
