He didn't hit me every day. I think that was probably my
biggest misconception about domestic violence. I also thought that they would
just tell you on the first day, "hey girl, when I get mad I will punch you
in the face." Clearly, that is not reality. I dated him for a while before
he ever even raised his voice at me.
He had a little girl that spent a lot of time with us. I loved her. She was almost a year old when I met him. She is the reason I stayed as long as I did.
Due to all of my health problems I had very little self-worth. I saw myself as a burden to anyone around me. He fed off of these insecurities. He knew I felt that way so whenever I would try to leave, he would remind me:
-No one will ever love you.
-You are broken.
-You are worthless.
-No one wants you.
I was convinced that he was the only person that would want to take care of me. If I left him I would be alone forever. I also couldn't leave his little girl. She needed me.
It started with screaming. He would yell at me. I would yell back at him. The fights were over all kinds of things, but mostly his jealousy. If someone even smiled at me he would lose it. I am not a relationship expert, but in every single one of mine, when they are jealous, they are the ones cheating. When I found out that he was cheating on me I told him I was leaving. I would leave Florida and go to New Orleans where my parents lived. This was unacceptable to him. This was the first time he got physical.
I went into the bedroom and started packing my suitcase. He came in the room and grabbed me by my hair and dragged me into the living room, probably about fifteen feet. I was horrified. Did he really just do that? I never thought having my hair pulled would be so painful, but when it is pulling a six foot, 150 pound woman behind it, it hurts. My hair ripped out in a massive chunk. I just sat on the floor crying. I don't even remember what happened next.
The next morning we acted like it never happened. We drank our coffee together and went into work. It wasn't long before it happened again. And again. I started locking myself in the laundry room to hide from him.
One night I called my friend in Louisiana and begged for her to come get me. I couldn't live like this. She drove fourteen hours straight and picked me up while he was at work. I don't think I was gone for a week before he drove the fourteen hours to my parents’ house and got me.
There were a lot of lies I would tell myself during this time. It was my fault. If I would only love him better, he wouldn't treat me like this. He was the only person that would ever love me, so I needed to make this work.
His house was at the end of a long street that led out to the highway. I tried to leave him a few times by walking down this road. He would just get in his car and catch up to me and convince me to come back home. He needed me. He was sorry. His little girl needed me. She loved me. Don't leave her. So I went back.
As cheaters often do, he cheated again. This time was the last straw for me. I was leaving. I was in a tank top and boxer shorts. I went into the bedroom again to pack my things and change clothes. I was crying because I was just so hurt that he could betray me again like that. After all I put up with to be with him and I still wasn't enough. He begged me to talk to him. He would explain, just don't leave. He was crying too now. I went into the bathroom to splash some water on my face and he followed. He sat me down on the toilet seat and stood in front of me begging me to listen. He slapped me. I stopped crying and just looked up at him. He slapped me again. He slapped me so hard the next time that it threw me into the tub and the shower curtain and rod fell into the tub with me. I used the rod to get him off of me and I made it out into the living room. It is actually hard to see through crying eyes and swollen cheeks. I was searching for a phone and keys. I had to leave.
He made it into the living room and was angry now. He must have grabbed the gun from the bedroom while I was searching for the keys. The next thing I remember was him straddling me on the couch shoving the gun down my throat.
He was screaming that I was making him like this. I did this to him. If he couldn't have me, no one else would.
I had found the keys, they were in my hand. I knew my only option was to fight back. I punched him in the face with the keys. I must have hit him hard enough because he fell backwards off of me. I threw the keys at him and ran out the front door.
I looked down that long road with blood dripping down my face and arms and remembered every failed attempt at making it down that street successfully. He would find me. He would bring me back. I just couldn't do it one more time. I ran into the next door neighbor’s back yard and hid in their bushes. I will never forget the painful sting of every ant that bit me under those bushes, but I wasn't moving. I watched him run out to his truck. He started driving up and down the road. This felt like an eternity, but it was probably only about twenty minutes. I texted my friend and asked her if she could come get me. She couldn't get all the way to where I was, but if I could make it closer to her, she'd pick me up. She was about a fifteen minute drive across town.
I did the only thing I could think of at the time. I called him. He started screaming at me, I could see him from where I was hiding. I told him I was sorry. This was all my fault. I'm coming home. I told him I was walking back and just to meet me at home. It was working. He pulled back into the driveway and walked into the house. I started walking.
He was asking where I was. How did I get so far? He was looking for me. Why did I make him do that to me? He just wants to love me.
A car drove up when I was about halfway down the street. He rolled his window down and asked if I needed a ride. I panicked and looked at him and put my finger to my lips pleading with him to be quiet. It was too late. He heard him through the phone. He started yelling, demanding to know who I was talking to, where was I?! I had a decision to make in that moment. I could get in the car with a stranger that might kill me, or I could go back to a man that had already threatened to. I got in the car.
I have heard stories about God sending you angels in times of need, but had never really experienced it. This man was an angel. He had made a wrong turn out of a bar and ended up on that street. He asked where I wanted to go. I just told him to drive out to the highway as fast as he could. We made it. I was free. He just listened as I told him where to take me to meet my friend. We were at a stop light when he looked over to me and asked if we needed to go to a hospital. No. Just get me out of here. He told me that he understood. He had spent time in a battered women's shelter with his mother. If that wasn't God, then that was the biggest coincidence ever. I chose to belive it was God.
He had a little girl that spent a lot of time with us. I loved her. She was almost a year old when I met him. She is the reason I stayed as long as I did.
Due to all of my health problems I had very little self-worth. I saw myself as a burden to anyone around me. He fed off of these insecurities. He knew I felt that way so whenever I would try to leave, he would remind me:
-No one will ever love you.
-You are broken.
-You are worthless.
-No one wants you.
I was convinced that he was the only person that would want to take care of me. If I left him I would be alone forever. I also couldn't leave his little girl. She needed me.
It started with screaming. He would yell at me. I would yell back at him. The fights were over all kinds of things, but mostly his jealousy. If someone even smiled at me he would lose it. I am not a relationship expert, but in every single one of mine, when they are jealous, they are the ones cheating. When I found out that he was cheating on me I told him I was leaving. I would leave Florida and go to New Orleans where my parents lived. This was unacceptable to him. This was the first time he got physical.
I went into the bedroom and started packing my suitcase. He came in the room and grabbed me by my hair and dragged me into the living room, probably about fifteen feet. I was horrified. Did he really just do that? I never thought having my hair pulled would be so painful, but when it is pulling a six foot, 150 pound woman behind it, it hurts. My hair ripped out in a massive chunk. I just sat on the floor crying. I don't even remember what happened next.
The next morning we acted like it never happened. We drank our coffee together and went into work. It wasn't long before it happened again. And again. I started locking myself in the laundry room to hide from him.
One night I called my friend in Louisiana and begged for her to come get me. I couldn't live like this. She drove fourteen hours straight and picked me up while he was at work. I don't think I was gone for a week before he drove the fourteen hours to my parents’ house and got me.
There were a lot of lies I would tell myself during this time. It was my fault. If I would only love him better, he wouldn't treat me like this. He was the only person that would ever love me, so I needed to make this work.
His house was at the end of a long street that led out to the highway. I tried to leave him a few times by walking down this road. He would just get in his car and catch up to me and convince me to come back home. He needed me. He was sorry. His little girl needed me. She loved me. Don't leave her. So I went back.
As cheaters often do, he cheated again. This time was the last straw for me. I was leaving. I was in a tank top and boxer shorts. I went into the bedroom again to pack my things and change clothes. I was crying because I was just so hurt that he could betray me again like that. After all I put up with to be with him and I still wasn't enough. He begged me to talk to him. He would explain, just don't leave. He was crying too now. I went into the bathroom to splash some water on my face and he followed. He sat me down on the toilet seat and stood in front of me begging me to listen. He slapped me. I stopped crying and just looked up at him. He slapped me again. He slapped me so hard the next time that it threw me into the tub and the shower curtain and rod fell into the tub with me. I used the rod to get him off of me and I made it out into the living room. It is actually hard to see through crying eyes and swollen cheeks. I was searching for a phone and keys. I had to leave.
He made it into the living room and was angry now. He must have grabbed the gun from the bedroom while I was searching for the keys. The next thing I remember was him straddling me on the couch shoving the gun down my throat.
He was screaming that I was making him like this. I did this to him. If he couldn't have me, no one else would.
I had found the keys, they were in my hand. I knew my only option was to fight back. I punched him in the face with the keys. I must have hit him hard enough because he fell backwards off of me. I threw the keys at him and ran out the front door.
I looked down that long road with blood dripping down my face and arms and remembered every failed attempt at making it down that street successfully. He would find me. He would bring me back. I just couldn't do it one more time. I ran into the next door neighbor’s back yard and hid in their bushes. I will never forget the painful sting of every ant that bit me under those bushes, but I wasn't moving. I watched him run out to his truck. He started driving up and down the road. This felt like an eternity, but it was probably only about twenty minutes. I texted my friend and asked her if she could come get me. She couldn't get all the way to where I was, but if I could make it closer to her, she'd pick me up. She was about a fifteen minute drive across town.
I did the only thing I could think of at the time. I called him. He started screaming at me, I could see him from where I was hiding. I told him I was sorry. This was all my fault. I'm coming home. I told him I was walking back and just to meet me at home. It was working. He pulled back into the driveway and walked into the house. I started walking.
He was asking where I was. How did I get so far? He was looking for me. Why did I make him do that to me? He just wants to love me.
A car drove up when I was about halfway down the street. He rolled his window down and asked if I needed a ride. I panicked and looked at him and put my finger to my lips pleading with him to be quiet. It was too late. He heard him through the phone. He started yelling, demanding to know who I was talking to, where was I?! I had a decision to make in that moment. I could get in the car with a stranger that might kill me, or I could go back to a man that had already threatened to. I got in the car.
I have heard stories about God sending you angels in times of need, but had never really experienced it. This man was an angel. He had made a wrong turn out of a bar and ended up on that street. He asked where I wanted to go. I just told him to drive out to the highway as fast as he could. We made it. I was free. He just listened as I told him where to take me to meet my friend. We were at a stop light when he looked over to me and asked if we needed to go to a hospital. No. Just get me out of here. He told me that he understood. He had spent time in a battered women's shelter with his mother. If that wasn't God, then that was the biggest coincidence ever. I chose to belive it was God.
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