The Whole Truth: Part IV

This story is about sexual abuse by a partner. Even when you're in a relationship, no still means no. Being in a relationship or being married or whatever does NOT negate your feelings and your voice.
                                                                                                                                                                  


My whole life, I had been independent. That’s how I was raised. I had said that I would NEVER let someone abuse me. I had said that I would NEVER be someone’s punching bag… Never say never.

When we first met, things were good. We were happy. Shortly thereafter, things started to change.

I can see now, having been removed from the situation what he was doing. It started out with playing with my emotions. Saying or doing things to get a reaction out of me because he thought it was funny.  For his amusement, even though I was hurt. He relished in seeing me cry.

Then, one night he wanted to have sex. I didn’t want to; I wasn’t feeling well. That didn’t stop him. He slapped me. He bent me over and took what he wanted. I hurt, I bled, I cried. I was afraid. The first thing he said to me after he was done, “You know this wasn’t rape, right?” A little bit of me died that night. That was the first time he had hit me and the first time he had raped me. It happened more frequently after that. Not all the time,  not every day, but once it started, it didn’t stop. He had been raised by an abusive alcoholic father, seeing him beat his mother, I used this as an excuse for his behavior for a long time. He didn’t know better, I said. He had no other examples. I could fix him, I knew it.

Then he started drinking. The drinking progressed and he was drinking every night. We may not have a knock down drag out every night, but we would argue at the very least. He would come home later and later. He was cheating. I made excuses for everything. He had hit me here and there. The rape had become more frequent. I got to the point I was numb. I protested at first, and then I would just lay there and let him do what he wanted. I was powerless. I needed him. I couldn’t support myself, I couldn’t be alone.

One night, I actually went out with him.

 BIG mistake.

We left the bar, and headed home. We were fighting. We had both been drinking. He pushed me out of the car when we got home and threw me against the brick wall outside. My back was bleeding, I hit my head. He said he was going to take my car and leave. He was drunk. I couldn’t let him do that. He would kill someone!

I went in the house and he came in behind me. He pushed me into the bedroom, threw me on the bed and jumped on top of me. He had his arm on my throat, choking me. I struggled to pull out my phone and dial 911. Once the phone was ringing, I threw it across the room. He broke his grasp to get it, and I yelled out our address. He came back to me, thinking they couldn’t hear me, or wouldn’t respond without more information and pushed me, hit me and bruised me.

Finally, there was a knock at the door. His eyes were wild, he was scared. I went to the door, and the deputy saw me. He barged through the door, went in the other room, dragged him out of the house and threw him on the ground. I asked the officer if he could just take him somewhere away from me, until the morning. He said he would have to take him to jail. I didn’t want that. I told the officer to let me go to my bedroom, lock the door and go to sleep, then he could leave. As soon as the officer was gone, the bedroom door was knocked from its hinges. He started to beat me again. Soon, there was another knock at the door. The officer hadn’t left, he was just down the street. He heard my screams and came back. This time, he didn’t give me an option. He could see the marks. My entire neck and chest were bruised. HE, the officer, was filing charges against him and taking him to jail. My brother’s wedding was 3 days away. I was a part of it. I covered the bruises as best I could and lied to my family. They believed my story, because they had no reason not to.

His family kept calling, asking why I did that to him. Why I put him in jail. Why I wouldn’t let him out. I tried to explain that it wasn’t me. That I couldn’t do anything about it.

After all this, I was convinced that I still needed him. I’m not sure what I needed. I think it was more that I didn’t want to “fail”. I didn’t want my relationship to fail. He was the only guy I had ever been with, I thought I loved him, because of that.

We went to court, and I told the judge that everything was fine. I told him that it wouldn’t happen again. The judge told me that he hoped I would get the opportunity to change my mind, but that usually these things didn’t end well and it could be my last chance to do something about it. He told him that if he EVER saw him in his courtroom again for domestic violence, that he would not take the ladies word and he would not let him go.

Things were fine for a little while. Then it all started again. He had been out all night and I was walking towards him. He kicked me in the face. Oh my, the pain. My jaw ached. He started to cry, apologizing, saying he didn’t mean to hurt me. I found out a few years later that he had fractured my jaw that night.

Things continued in much the same way for years, 6.5 years, to be exact. I started school, and met some of the most amazing, young girls. Many of them don’t know it, but they saved me. They were kind, they were sweet, and they knew they deserved better. They made me feel like I deserved better. They brought back my confidence in myself. They lifted my self-esteem from the ground below. They built me into the person I had once been. They helped me realize that I deserved to be treated better. That EVERY woman deserves better.

 We had moved into separate apartments, but were still together. I was living with some of the girls from school, which was just what I needed. I drew strength from them.

One day, while I was taking him back to his apartment, he started to fight. He said, “If you don’t do this, then we are done!” I looked him straight in the eyes and with no emotion, no reservation, I said, “OK”. Just like that, it was done.

When we got to his place, he said that if I didn’t come in, we were through. I let him out of the car and drove away. I got back to my apartment, and my roommates were there with open arms to welcome me. They didn’t know what I had gone to do, or what would happen, but they knew when I came back that night, that something was different. That I had taken a stand and made a decision for MY future.

That was the end of it. Just like that. I began to reprogram myself, then, rebuild my life. It’s so hard to leave that situation.

There’s fear.
 Lots of fear.

 I watched around every corner, afraid he would be there, for the longest time. The abuser uses the mind games to break you down. To make you think less of yourself. That’s the first step in their control. Once they have that, they can pretty much do anything and you’ll stay right where you are. The hell you are in becomes your safe place. Your mind is warped. Your perception is blurred. People talk about how it won’t happen to them, or they would just leave. Without being there, you just don’t know. You don’t know how hard it is. Things aren’t so cut and dry.

Since all of this, I have found my happiness! I am married to a wonderful man, who loves me for me. I have an amazing little boy that makes every day seem more important than the day before, and I am pregnant with a little girl to complete our family. I have more now than I ever though I deserved then.

Everyone just needs to know: YOU are enough. YOU are special. YOU are loved. YOU don’t deserve to be treated as someone’s punching bag. YOU don’t deserve to be raped. YOU DESERVE TO BE HAPPY!