Simply just some thoughts, about mental and physical abuse..
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.
Published in: Family