I had a conversation with God over the weekend and found that it is time to speak to the women out there who are in a physically abusive relationship. Being a survivor of such a relationship, I feel like I owe it to you all to share my testimony. This was one of the most difficult times in my life and I will never forget it. But I want you to know I their is a way out.
About 8 years ago, I became involved with what seem to be a very charismatic young man. Now at the time I was 2 years into a marriage separation and was nowhere near ready to be involved with anyone on a serious basis. I will have to admit once I was separated I was, for lack of better words, “on one” and based on the way my marriage (at the time) was ending I actually seem to have a thing for dealing with men that were in a relationship. In efforts to make woman and men feel the pain, I was concealing. Therefore, I am almost willing to bet the young man I met was my Karma sent to teach me a lesson.
When we met, he had a family including a woman and a 2-year-old little girl. I heard of some things that took place between them with him being physically abusive but for some crazy reason I felt like I was an exception to that rule and by the time it really kicked in I was too far gone emotionally in our relationship so I felt like that was just a situation THEY were experiencing. Boy did I learn different.
About a year into us meeting, he and his girlfriend broke up which was music to the ears of any side chick, this is the ultimate goal of a warp-minded woman who is dealing with a man in a relationship. So in a sense I was happy (such a dummy). However, during this time, he and I got into a disagreement and I decided not to answer his calls one day. Well when I returned home as I was walking up my driveway he swiftly appears, jumps out of his car and starts to question who I was with where I couldn’t answer my phone. As I was reminding him that we are not together and he did not have the right to question me next thing I knew he was choking me to the point that I could not breathe AT ALL. I remember telling myself then that this was the end of my life. I had never experienced such a thing and I was actually devastated. After that situation, the physical altercations just spiraled into a complete disaster. Ranging from that situation and even going as far as breaking my arm. This was by far the worst relationship I had ever been in, but for some odd reason, I stayed. It definitely was not the nice things he stole from his job for me like; platinum rings, clothes, shoes etc. Because to be honest gifts have never been the way to my heart. To this day, the only thing that I could remember that made me stay is that I felt sorry for him. He had lost his mother when he was about 11 years old and part of me wanted to fill that void that he was missing. Not to mention he was a sweet misguided person that I felt I could help.
I later on, found out two essential things about this individual that were also red flags. One was his mother died while she was pregnant from a seizure and I think drowned while in the bathtub experiencing that seizure. The woman had no history of having seizure in her life but after multiple physical altercations between her and his father she developed this condition, which lead to her death. What is even crazier is that the person I was dating witnessed it all and that should have told me a lot about him. The second thing is this person is an atheist. Which means to me (now) that he had no guidance to get him through the tough times in his life and was completely and utterly misguided.
About a year after this person broke my arm, while trying to get my cellphone out of my hand. I became pregnant. I know, I know why did I do that. However, it was then when I decided not to allow him to become physical with me anymore. While I was pregnant, we broke up more than enough times but somehow we ended up living together in our own apartment. During us living together, there were some physical altercations but nothing bad enough for me to move out, smh. It wasn’t until my daughter turned 6 months old that I had reached my turning point, nearly 4 years later.
Then Shit Got Real
I arrived home from work one evening and walked into the dining room where I found this sick individual giving my 6-month-old daughter E&J and Coke (judging by what was sitting on the table). I was furious, however keeping in mind that this could become another physical altercation, I remained calm and pleaded for him to give her to me, and stop. He proceeded to give it to her and then handed her to me when he was ready. I checked my baby physically and smelled her breath, which reeked of alcohol. I continued to remain calm and immediately told him I had to go to the store, which was actually going to be the hospital. I arrived to the hospital, which was my place of employment, at the time, to have my baby checked and tested for alcohol. I remember as if it was yesterday how the doctor looked at me when I requested an alcohol test. As if, I was over reacting. This was my very first cry out for help and it was absolutely ignored. I immediately developed trust issues that made me remain silent during this nightmare.
Please stay tuned for Part 2 of this post. Trust me it gets deeper. Subscribe below to be notified when Part 2 is posted.