I was 18 years old in my second year of college, living my life to the fullest, trying to find myself in the world. I had never been in a relationship partly because I had pretty low self esteem (always had) and partly because I was hard headed (always have been lol) and saw no point in being tied down in one. That is until I met this guy that was opposite of me in every way, but was drawn to like I’d never been before. At first everything was great, he was funny as hell to me, and very attentive. I had no idea what kind of relationship this was going to turn to. The first time he put his hands on me was at one of his people’s house. He had left me there while he ran somewhere “real quick” in the meantime I went in a back room with 2 girls and 2 guys to smoke, as soon as I walked out of that room he walked back in the house. Once I made it to the kitchen where he was, I couldn’t even think before he slammed me into the wall choked me up then slapped me in the face. I was just dumbfounded, confused and needless to say humiliated because he did this in front if people. He thought I was messing around with one of the guys in that room, and I couldn’t tell you how many times the same situation occurred throughout our relationship. Then also if he thought I was looking, taking to, or even thinking about another dude. I started walking with my head down..literally. Would try not to let my eyes wander anywhere, so he would never think they were straying.
On a daily basis he would call me names like bitch, slut, hoe, rat along with making sure he made me feel like I wasn’t shit. All while convincing me this was “love”. We went to this party together one night along with some of his cousins. When we got out of it and about to leave he decided to start a fight, it was raining out. He was kicking, swinging on, choking me with tons of people around then threw me to the cement where I cracked my head..knocked out for a minute till a helping hand grabbed mine to get me up. It was one of his cousins, the first and only time one of them would step in on one of our altercations ( they’d seen many).About a month after this I found out I was pregnant. At first I said there was no way I’d ever abort, but then I thought I couldn’t do it.. Be with him forever, be a young mom. It wasn’t what I saw for myself. He wasn’t having it.. So of course convinced me he was going to help and that we were going to work on making our relationship better.
The physical abuse mellowed out while I was pregnant but it seemed like the metal abuse got worse. When I was about 7 months pregnant I was watching his son and his friends kid while they went to the store. He didn’t come back till sometime in the middle of the night, he started choking me from behind and punching me in the back of the head. I didn’t even fight or try and do shit I just remember crying and in my head talking to god. The next morning I started bleeding, enough to be concerned so I went to the hospital to have my baby checked on. It may sound crazy to some people but part of me hoped that god had taken my baby. Taken her to a safe place where she could never live in a life of pain with me. My baby was okay though. The rest of my pregnancy is kind of a blur of a lot of tears and locking myself in the bathroom when I knew he was about to get violent. My baby girl was born healthy at 2 weeks early. The night after her birth in the hospital he looked over at me and said I know that’s not my baby bitch. He went on with that denial on and off for the first year of her life. When she was two weeks old though, he put his hands on me for the last time. He made the mistake of pushing me around with her in my arms, I left him but can’t say I never looked back. That’s the crazy thing about being in a abusive relationship, the one person bringing so much pain upon you is the person you are the most loyal to. During those 2 1/2 years I lost a lot of my faith, my friends, and most importantly myself.
I’m 23 now it’s been almost 3 years and I can say I walk with my head held high again, I’m single and growing into the woman I pictured myself to be. Strong and confident, someone my daughter can look up to and be proud of, she did save me after all. It wasn’t easy though, I had to talk myself out of giving him another chance plenty of times. I would have nightmares and wake up feeling like I was still living in one. The healing process is a long one and one of many steps. It took me longer to forgive myself than it did to forgive him. I’ve met a few pretty good guys since being single, and managed to push everyone of them away out of fear of not how they might treat me but out of fear of what I might allow done to me. When I look back at that time in my life I can tell you exactly how I felt but cannot tell you how or why I felt that way. He put me right where he wanted to, feeling like all I had was him and that there was no way out of the relationship. Domestic abuse is something that I feel everyone has a part in.. Everyone knows someone who is or has been in on whether you know it or not. I had to get out of my abusive relationship on my own, my dark past still being a secret from most.
But the people who helped me get through the rough times afterwards, will always hold a special place in my heart and life. There was only one woman who knew of the abuse who made sure to tell me every chance she got to run like hell, and things like ” baby you better drop that zero and get you a hero, that’s what you deserve” lol. That woman was his granny, whom btw passed away just one week after my daughters birth and one week prior to me ending my relationship, my guardian angel my kick of strength. I still have days where if I let my mind go back to a bad memory I will break down and get it all out real quick. I still carry around some emotional scars, but I also carry around a strength that no one can ever take from me because I fought hard to be here.