This subject hits close to home, lived it, endured it and survived it. Thinking it was all my fault, thought it was the way it was supposed to be. Thought others lived the same.
But years later, the recorder still goes off in my head, when someone rises there arm or hand too quickly, I still react by ducking. Loud noises remind me of gunshots and set me on edge. Yelling and screaming, do amazing things to me. Touching my neck even though you’re playing, remembering getting choked till I couldn’t breathe.
This man damaged my life, mentally and physically abused me, he manipulated me, wanted me to be who he wanted me to be, not allowing me to be me. Not to wear make-up, not to have friends, not to go anywhere, timed when I did, he knew how long it took to go to the store, get his beer and be back, don’t be late he would say, you know what will happen, he didn’t want me to have a life accept him and my children.
It has taken me years to quit looking over my shoulder, and not to look at the time to make sure I was getting home on time.
These damages were not only enforced on me but my children. My oldest daughter struggles to this day of not being good enough. My son who was in the middle is lost in life without a real path to grab onto. My youngest daughter wasn’t damaged, but his death sent her up a path of no knowing.
Really not knowing everything or actually not remembering. My oldest was 10 when I finally got the balls to leave with him. Many of you are probably saying right now, what took so long? I lived in another state along ways away from my family. The last straw was when he stabbed my son in the hand with a fork because he put his hand on the table.
Getting things together, deciding to leave with the children took a lot, afraid, scared, but finally went, before he got home from work, moved into a women’s shelter, my older children still went to school by the house, baby to daycare, it was hard. Their father appeared each morning glaring at me from a distance; he haunted me at work, leaving notes on my car.
Hoping to put many miles between him and I, and the children in hopes of protecting them from him, but the damage continued, they missed him, then day passed, years passed, their father didn’t want contact with them, anymore, he erased them form his life. He planned on remarrying, and starting a new life.
Years passed, everyday haunted, wondering if he would show up on my door step, even though I was 1000 miles away, he had made my life a living hell, he wouldn’t pay child support suddenly they weren’t his children, forced me to have DNA tests, nothing I didn’t already know, not paying child support. No helping with anything else, the mental abuse continued. Asked for help with insurance, I talked to him because of the children, he always belittled me, if I took them away, I must have thought I could raise them by myself. You helped make them, I told him, and he could help take care of them. Take me to court, spent a lot of time in court.
What is sad with this story is that I loved him; I married him way after the death of his mother and father, mother died in child birth, and father beat to death. Way before he met me he was damaged. But I didn’t know any of his family history until I met and moved in with his Grandfather, and he told me. He lived with his Grandfather; His Grandfather raised Him, a brother and two sisters. Then his Brother died, then his Grandfather died, he changed overnight. Into a hateful, self-centered, greedy bastard, that was never home, or came home drunk. And beat on me.
Pregnant with his son, which claimed at birth not to be his, then he raped me and I was pregnant again with my third child he wanted me to abort the baby I flat out refused, and he had nothing to say about the baby the whole nine months I was pregnant, being pregnant didn’t stop him from being a abuser. When my baby came home she was suddenly his pride and joy, go figure.
This is what really helped me decide to move to another state and taking the children, left in the middle of the night with my mom and dad would came to get us. Thinking the mental abuse was over, he couldn’t haunt me, he would be so far away.
Life took some time to get use too, looking over my shoulder, worrying about the children, at school, worried all the time.
Then just as my children couldn’t go on any longer without contact, he fell in the shower and hit his head and died. Mental abuse took a toll on me, never believing that I was good enough, then the Mental and physical abuser died. Then there was hope insight. We attended the funeral, visited the house where they lived as children, it looked as if I left two days ago. My freedom came all at once, but my children didn’t take it as well. The years of pain and sorrow were erased. Free at last, Free at last…
At the funeral, everything comes out in the wash, all these children that claimed to be his showed up at the funeral, my children were asking me who they were, the secret life of their father came out, many women, many children, many other lives. They were all close in age, but he claimed none of them, and none of them had his name but my three children.
Everything happens for a reason, I sit here today, free of an abuser, free to choose what and when I do, but I am drawn to this type of man, I have chosen to be single, even though I married again, and he has also passed away. He was an abuser as well, trying to change my pattern before I get involved again.
No comments:
Post a Comment