Yesterday found me reminiscing on my early years. May not seem to important to some but, to me, it was the start of my journey through this rough thing called life. Now some might say that life is only as hard as you make it, while others may feel like no matter what they seem to do it gets harder and harder. you make choices that appear to be the right choice and later find out they were not.
I watched my sister start off bad at a young age. She had left and moved up north with my mom and cousin/step dad. I went to visit one summer and followed her around like a lil lost puupy dog. I was 11 and she was 14. She had so many friends. She smoked, she partied, she had a boyfriend now. She followed behind him everyday tracking him down, crying when he wouldn't talk to her. He called her a crazy little kid. He talked to her like she was nothing and because he was her first, she took it. I would tell her she was being stupid and to just leave him alone, but she said I was too young to understand. She warned me that I would go through the same thing. I vowed I wouldn't.
Fast forward to my adult years. Here I was in the navy. 19 years old and having the time of my life. I was in Virginia when I met him. He was the sweetest most romantic thing around. Within 7 weeks we were married. Within six months, He had cheated. Now I found myself chasing after him. My sister had been abused in all her relationships. Not me. I was stronger than that. I had enough whippings from my dad as a child and no other man would ever put his hands on me. So cheating was nothing to me. A man will be a man. So I forgave him. After all, he didn't hit me. After 2 sons, 6 years and only God knows how many stripper mistresses later, he did. He had been out all night again and the boys needed milk and diapers. I was angry. I cussed him out and continued fussing until the baby woke up. He was hungry. I started breast feeding him and his dad started choking me. That was it. A year later an old friend paid our airfare back to California and we were gone. We tried to reconcile but he was still controlling, and unfaithful. I returned again to California with out my sons. Then I met another. Short skinny gangster type. He had a background. But I told myself he would be different with me. Until I had our daughter, he was. I didn't love him so much. I was afraid. The day our daughter came home from the hospital he swole the right side of my face like a possum. For the next 7 months I would have to endure beatings with shovels, crowbars, beer bottles, socks down my throat, have to hide him out after he pistol whipped his oldest kids mother at a party, being kidnapped, and him having sex in our home with various ladies of liesure with me in the other room. One night I was so tired I took a bath and prayed out to God. I told him that if he got him out of my life I would get myself right with God. He burst in and threw a shoe at me. 3 days later he was in jail. Two years later he was sentenced to 12 years in prison. I was free. For about a year I stayed single. In comes David. We met in church. Both of us directors of a sober living home and praise team members. We left the church. He too had a background. But he never spent time in prison for it. How bad could he be right? Wrong. With him its different. Its harder. One day he could be my best friend, the next my worst enemy. He is faithful. Pays attention to me. Kisses me goodnight and says I love you. He too has his violent days. He is so good at he knows where to hit without leaving marks. A friend met him and told my sister, who is now dating a fireman who treats her like a queen, anyway , he told her of a dream he had about David hitting me and killing me in the middle of the street. I brushed it off. And another outsider told me he would kill me one day if I didn't get away. So I tried, and he tried. So where does that leave me. Stuck trying to figure out a way to get out without losing my life, my daughter, or anything I have.
What they don't tell you. Over the years I tried counseling for domestic violence. All I was told was to get away. To leave. Call the police. They don't address the issues of fear, failure, depression, and loneliness.
Fear. Someone can break you down so much that you fear everyone else more than you fear them. You are so used to a life that normal living has you running. They threaten you or your family and show you one way or another that they are able to carry out the threats. So you call yourself sacrificing your own safety to protect others you love. For some who have constantly experienced abuse, the fear of loving again, trusting another comes in to play. You begin to see all of them the same way and find yourself alone. Something you didn't want to do. Then you feel like a failure. Afraid to move forward because of the chains that you carry with you. In my case, I let myself go. I took my dreams off the back burner and put them in the cupboard. I began to settle for what I was getting. I was now diagnosed with lupus, in an abusive relationship, on welfare, without my sons, and depressed.
My 80 year old landlord called me a beautiful but weak woman. A very weak woman. He pissed me off and I wanted to tell him something, but he was right and all I could do was lock myelf in the bathroom and weep. All this time I had told myself that I was strong. Not many people Could endure what I had endured. In reality, the strong ones Would NOT have to endure because they would leave before it escalated that far. They know their value and I didn't. I had been shattered so badly that I could not determine the difference between strngth and weakness anymore. I was not only prey to the cowardly men who use and abuse women all in the name of love and a victim of self destruction, I was my own worst enemy.
I had prayed for God to give me strength and realized He didn't give it to me, He gave me opportunities to be strong.
All in a matter of 13 years I had become everything I said I never woud be. Divorced. Away from my sons, raising my daughter alone, on welfare, a victim, and a cocward myself. It took an 80 year old blind man telling me I was beautiful, but very weak for me to realize that.
Now I'm on the road to healing my wounds and following my dreams.
Thank you for reading, Happy Thanksgiving and I hope I have touched the heart of someone in need of healing and as I heal maybe you can do the same. God bless.
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