Domestic abuse isn't spoken about enough. And let me tell you from experience. The abuse lasts longer than the time you spend physically going through it. The first time you (abuser) hit them, It's a mistake. The second time, you don't know why you did it again. The third time, you want to take it back. When you don't stop, when you don't change, when you keep hitting them, when it becomes okay, when it becomes more than just a slap, that's when you should walk away. And as the victim, more often then not, when we should walk away the first time, we don't. From what I have experienced manipulation starts first. Before the physical abuse. Somehow that person gets into your mind and starts to slowly control you. And don't forget the alienation from everyone you know.. your family.. your friends.. I have a (almost) 3 year old son. My story starts right before I got pregnant. Almost 4 years ago. I met this guy when I was 18. Being very young and naive I got pregnant a month and a half-ish in after he flushed my birth control pills. It was only a few days before I got a new pack that he didn't know about. But it was enough. I didn't realize at the time that his drinking was so bad. I had never been exposed to an alcoholic. He began lieing to me immediately. He was on community service. But didn't tell me that. He said he had to go to "work". I assume he works too jobs. Later find out it wad community service. Meanwhile he gets fired from his actual job (cleaning out cars) for drinking on the job. And for whatever reason at 18 years old I didn't think much about it. Skip forward a few weeks. I start realizing that I don't think I want to be in the relationship. And I'm slightly on the fence about what to do with my baby. As I'm at work I text him telling him I don't want to be with him. I was overwhelmed at the response I received. It was a photo. He had sliced open his left arm (what he calls his 'Arm Of Death', and it's always the left arm because it's the one connected to his heart) and sent me a photo of it with his arm pouring blood into the sink. I leave work early. Show up at his grandparents house (where he lived and I eventually lived) and he comes outside with dried blood covering his whole arm, while some fresh blood still oozes out. This was the first step in his manipulation of me. But I did not see it then. After that, I should have taken more note of the scars layered on top of each other on that arm. As long as my pinky minimum. And just as thick. This cutting happened multiple times through the 3 years we were together. He refused to ever get stitches because he liked the way the huge scars looked. They were easier to show off. About 2 months go by. I move in. Maybe a month later he hits me for the first time. (I'm pregnant). I had walked upstairs and turned right to walk to the room. As I step into the doorway, he shoots up out of his brown leather chair takes two long strides and slaps me across the face so hard it spins me as I fall to the ground. To this day I still don't know why he did it. Except he was drinking.
He apologized. Begged me not to leave. Swore it would never happen again. I'm having a baby with him. I'm 18 (turning 19), I'm naive. So I trust him. I believe him. And I let it go like it never happened.
During this time he has slowly been degrading me. Calling me names. Putting me down. Watching porn. Going into rages when I find out about it and question him about being on “MyFreeCams”. I don't believe in watching porn in relationships. And I definitely don't believe in getting on cams with other people. I start to notice how bad his drinking habits really are. It was every single night. Hurricane or steeles because they have such a high alcohol content. And then whatever liquor he felt like drinking.
Now, I wasn't a crazy person then. I am now. But not then. He starts telling me how pathetic and worthless I am. That I can't pleasure him so that's why he watches porn. That I'm boring so that's why he talks to other women. That I'm the reason he drinks (Mind you, he drank way before I ever met him. And I met him in a bar). That I'm not good enough. No one could love me. Starts telling me I'm a whore for having male friends, which was mainly all of my friends. So out of respect, I cut off all of them. Then slowly it turned into pulling me away from my family. Getting in my head about them not wanting the best for me. How they just want to ruin my life. And he can see how manipulative they are. And so much more.
Over the duration of my pregnancy he starts hitting me more and more. It's now easily a weekly occurrence. And the emotional, mental, and verbal abuse is daily. My pregnancy triggers some medical problems. I start fainting. All of the time. Every day. Sometimes multiple times a day. Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome.
I start waking up after fainting, to this “man” having non consensual sex with me while I was unconscious. Because somehow, he sickly got off to me being unconscious. This becomes normal. Instead of making sure I'm okay (even after I fainted, pregnant, going down the stairs) he has to satisfy his sick urges. But he apologizes.
I'm easily 32 weeks pregnant. He gets wasted again. I'm hormonal. I'm telling him I'm going to leave. That I'm sick of the way he treats me. He pushes me down the stairs in the house. I hit my head. Pass out. Wake up sometime later in a lot of pain and him upstairs watching tv getting more drunk.
I drive myself to the hospital. I'm having braxton hicks contractions. They monitor me for a while. They don't want to x-ray my ribs. And there's nothing they can do anyway considering how largely pregnant I am. But they assume I have a fractured rib or two. I'm put on pain killers until about 36 weeks when I stop taking them to give the baby time to get it out of his system before birth.
This wasn't my first injury or hospital trip because of him. He had fractured my foot with a hairbrush. Then re-fractured it a later date. Fractured my hand on 2 different occasions. Given me multiple concussions. More bruises than I can count. Every time he apologized. Every time I stayed...
One night he's at it again. This night blurred really bad. Most of them do. But all I remember is him shoving me. My stomach hit the corner of the crib. My cat was meowing. And then he starting yelling about the litter box. And the litter box has just infuriated him for some reason. He goes after my cat. Who runs under the bed. I'm yelling begging him to stop and leave him alone. He grabs my cats tail. My cat yells “Momma”. Seriously. My cat screaming for help, screaming in pain, comes out sounding like some demonic momma. I start banging on his back. Crying. Screaming. Pleading. I start punching harder. He has my cat by the neck. He's squeezing. He's laughing. He has a crazed look in his eye. My cat is choking. Gasping. Barely meowing. Eyes bulging. Movements getting weaker… So I do the only thing I can do. I grab him by the hair on his head, rip his head back and start punching and kicking whatever part of his body I can make contact with. He lets go of my cat. But now I'm in trouble...
He pulls me onto the ground, grabs my head and slams it into the ground multiple times. I'm dizzy. I feel like I'm going to puke. He knees me in the stomach. And for the first time wraps his hands around my throat and starts choking me. I barely get out “the baby”. He looks like he doesn't want to stop. I can see the struggle he has stopping. But he does. He “breaks down” starts crying. Apologizing. I run. I grab my cat, the litter box and run. I slept in my car that night.
He persistently blows up my phone. He has sliced his arm open. Again. He tells me he is going to kill himself if I leave. That he's going to kill himself if I take his son. Reluctantly, and terrified, I go back.
One night I'm talking to a friend about wanting to leave. I'm roughly 35/36 weeks. I tell her I'm not going to put him on the birth certificate. That when I go into labor I'm not going to notify him. I'm leaving. I'm done.
The next morning he wakes me up. Telling me we're going to get married. I argue. I tell him No I want to wait. He grabs my shoulders and slams me into the wall telling me that we Are and I don't have a choice. And I better listen to him or else. I call my mom. Who calls my Aunts. I guess I hoped they would show up and stop it. Even though I'm being told to tell them not to come. To argue with them. He took my phone and hung up on them. Then kept it until later so I couldn't talk to them. I felt trapped. I didn't know what to do. I felt like I didn't have a choice. You can see my misery in the photos that the lady there took. I believe he heard my conversation. And this was his way to avoid it.
At 38 weeks I go into labor. I'm left alone in the hospital room the majority of the time. He chases my family out. I don't know what else to do but agree. I'm so in and out of it until it was time to push. He spent his time, instead of being beside his laboring ‘wife’ outside in the parking deck getting high with his mom. Which I found out later. He didn't even want to old our newborn baby because of how high he was.
He didn't stay either of the two nights with me in the hospital. He was too busy jacking off to porn. And calling up a old hookup of his talking to her for hours. Discharge day I start having issues. They send me for testing. Long story short. I was having a bad panic attack. No feeling in my legs. Couldn't breathe. Etc. They asked me if I felt safe going home (He's standing there in the room at this point) I stupidly tell them yes. But what else am I going to do? I have a newborn baby. I have to go home with my husband. My son's father.
We had been sleeping in different rooms for months. Once I had our son, I was no longer allowed out of the bedroom I was in if he was home. He would scream and yell and cuss me out and tell me not to bother him when he got home from work. My postpartum depression hits hard. I'm put on Zoloft. Hah. It made everything worse.
4 weeks postpartum he's lost it again. He hadn't hit me since I had the baby. But this night he was drunk more than usual. He was in a rage. Had a bad day at work. And I had just made the mistake of walking out of my room I was kept in with the baby. I was going to get my cat. And I walked in on him watching porn. So of course I said something. I got upset. I cried. Told him I was done. I was tired of being disrespected. I was tired of being put down. I was tired of him calling other girls and getting them to come meet him at his work for lunch. Talking to them on the way to work (30 minutes) on lunch (15 minutes) and on the way home (30 minutes to an hour because he would sit in his car somewhere before coming home). These are the times I see in his call logs.
I walk away to grab my 4 week old son and leave. He follows me. Yelling. Screaming. As I pick up my son he grabs him and starts pulling. Telling me to let go of the baby before he hurts him. I'm screaming and crying. I'm begging him to stop. Terrified for my son, I let go. My son is screaming at this point. (Later had some light bruising on his arms from his “daddy” grabbing him).
He sets the baby down. Turns and backhands me so hard I hit the ground. Something I'm used to at this point. But then he does something new. He dropkicks me in the stomach as hard as he can. I'm still bleeding from having a child. I'm nowhere near healed from childbirth. I scream clutching my stomach. Begging him not to hurt me again. He wraps his hands around my throat, and for the first time chokes me unconscious. The burning of my lungs, the pain on my throat, the raging pressure in my head, my body slowly getting numb and tingly, my movements becoming harder, unable to even gasp for a single breath, my airway completely closed off, the blackness on the edges of my vision closing in, the burning of my lungs has intensified into unbearable pain.
My last thoughts being “I'm about to die. My baby. I'm so sorry babyboy. I love you.” I hated that I couldn't tell him goodbye. That I couldn't hold him one last time. That I would never see him again. He would grow up without his mommy. Then there was nothing. I don't know how long it was before I woke up. I had ruptured blood vessels all over my face. A horrible migraine. I could barely talk. It took days before I could swallow without pain.
I'm terrified. I'm trapped. Whenever I try to leave he beats me, chokes me unconscious. Takes my son and won't give him to me.
When my son is about 9 months old, he is beating me like he usually does, but this time he holds a knife over me and my son as we are on the floor. He stands over us saying he's going to kill us. Then turns the knife to himself and grabs my hand telling me to shove the knife into his chest.
I wanted to. So bad. But I couldn't.
A few months later, it's been daily beatings for 11-12 months now. Almost nightly I'm choked unconscious. This night he holds me upside down out of a two story window. He tells me he is going to drop me and kill me. Then he's going to grab our (not even 1 years old) son so we can all die together. That night was particularly bad. And it's hard to remember much. He threw me outside in the freezing cold in my underwear and locked me out. Didn't let me in until hours later.
Another night he slammed me so hard repeatedly in the solid wood walls of the tiny house we were in that i couldn't see straight. He took the door off the hinges. My son is screaming. I try to go to him to comfort him. He starts choking me. Then throws me so hard onto the front porch that my head slammed into the porch and all I can remember is a lot of pain in my head before waking up some time later freezing cold. And still locked out.
I go out with a friend of mine.. Veronyka... We get back and Chase starts losing it.. So I tell Veronyka to leave worried about her safety.. She texts me telling me she's waiting at the end of the road.. 15/20 minutes later I text her back.. telling her to come get me and my son. She pulls up. He comes running outside.. Yelling at her and me. He's crazed. I'm terrified. He snatches my son away from me. I'm so scared if Veronyka gets out that he will hurt her. That if I try to leave he will hurt me. But I can't leave. He grabbed my son... I can't leave my baby. I tell her to leave. She calls her cop friend. She's trying to help me. But I tell her not to. Just go home and I'll text her later.
We go back inside. Things escalate. It's bad. I'm so scared. And I can't even leave when I try to...
I called the cops. Told them he was beating me on dispatch and that I was hiding in the bushes. They showed up. Found me. Questioned him. Got my son away from him. But his grandparents (specifically his grandfather) told me not to send him to jail. Begged and pleaded to tell the officers that it was just an argument even though they had already questioned me and I had given my answer. The officer comes back over and asks me one more time what happened. I tell him it was just an argument. The write it off as a domestic dispute. Stupid stupid me.
Right after our son turns one. We are out at the store. I had a jogging stroller. I wasn't feeling good this day. I asked him to push our son and watch him. I remind him to make sure he buckles him in. I start walking around. Not feeling good. I pass out all the time. And I'm working on some public access training with my service dog. Teaching him the proper way to behave in public. What to and not to do. Out of the corner of my eye I see my son stand up. He's easy 15 feet away. His “father” didn't buckle him in. And walked about 5 feet away from the stroller to look at something on the shelf. Little boy stands up, smiling and laughing, and my heart sinks. He's leaned against the back of the stroller. It flips. His face smashing straight into the concrete floor. I scream.
I run to him. He didn't move. Didn't cry. I pick him up. He wasn't breathing. I'm yelling “HELP 911” as I'm moving to the front of the store, crying, terrified my baby is dying in my arms. His father following. Acting like it's not serious. Finally what feels like forever.. But what was probably only 20 seconds, he gasps, sucking in a breath, his eyes rolling in the back of his head. His crying coming out in broken screams as he tries to breathe. His face already swelling and bruising. The ambulance shows up. He gets brought to Children's Hospital. He's okay. A mild concussion. Luckily his nose and other facial bones are not broken. He's swollen and bruised for almost 2 weeks. Because his father couldn't be responsible.
Fast forward a year. It's been the same thing pretty much nightly. I'm used to being choked unconscious. I'm used to being raped. But as he tells me “It's not rape if you're married”. I've accepted the fact he WILL kill me. I AM going to die. It's just a matter of time.
I have a good youtube channel going. Reached 197,000 subscribers. Had multiple videos with millions of views. Spreading awareness for Service Animals and Disabilities. I have a Service Dog. So. Yeah.
I move us into a new apartment away from his family. All of a sudden I bring in $13,000 one month from videos going viral. I'm stable. I feel good. The next 8 months I bring in anywhere from $2,000 to $8,000 a month. My money disappears. I can't figure out where it's going so fast. I know I'm spending a lot. But I'm not spending that much. I try to buy a car. I'm told no. I can't afford the insurance. If I lose my channel I can't afford my car. Etc. He manipulates me more.
Making me feel reliant. Even though I have the money not to be. Makes me feel like I have to ask his permission for things. If he needs money I have to give it to him because we're married so it's his too. Meanwhile larger amounts of money are missing. And I think we all know why and who.
I can't trust him to watch my son. I go to bed early one night not feeling good. He (I assume) has his headphones on playing computer games and was of course drinking. Not watching the 1 (almost 2) year old child. My son somehow gets ahold of my straightener. Turns it on. (It's old. Take 2-3 minutes to heat up) and burns himself. A second degree burn on his thumb. I don't find out until the next day. He is neglectful. Now my son is suffering physically. His father only cares about himself. Coming home and getting wasted. Every single night.
Some time goes by. I'm 21. My son's 2nd birthday is coming up. It's mid March. We've been sleeping apart for some time. I told him months ago I wanted a break. But I couldn't get him to leave. A friend of mine I've known for almost 10 years messages me. He wants to hang out and catch up. And meet my son. I tell my husband briefly that morning before he leaves. He should be home about the time my friend comes over.
My friend arrives a little early. No problem. We catch up, laughing and smiling outside picking clovers with my son. We go inside and start playing the PS4VR. He takes a photo of me playing it with the most heartfelt, embarrassing, full face laugh and smile I've ever had. I feel like the innocent 13 year old kid I was when we first met.
Husband shows up. He forgot. He makes a scene by storming outside. I follow him. Remind him I told him. He calms down. Comes inside. Forcefully kisses me in front of my friend. We all hang out for a while. When my friend leaves he.. Well.. “It's not rape if you're married”.
A few days go by. I've talked to my friend every day. I'm starting to think more and more about that spark and connection we had as young teenagers that we never really got to act on. We never dated. Other things. But we were never together. I trust him. He's ex military. He's the most positive, caring, motivational, happy person I know.
I confide in him vaguely about the abuse. He starts telling me I don't deserve that. I deserve better. I can do better. A million other people would love me. Which goes against everything I've heard for the past 3 years. My husband has told me I'm worthless, I'm crazy, has purposefully triggered feelings and breakdowns related to my sexual abuse as a child that I went through for over 10 years (ages 3-13, he is in prison now), I'm unlovable, I'm ugly, no one would want me, I'm covered in stretch marks, I have a kid, I'll spend forever alone, and I'm so psycho I'm the reason he is the way he is. I'm too crazy. No one will want me. I struggle with these feelings for some hours.
I try to make my husband leave. He won't.
My friend comes back over. Things happen between us that haven't happened 5/6 years. And I realize then, I am wanted. He cares about me. I have to figure out how to get away. Well I tell a friend about what happened with us. I'm beside myself with happiness, with feeling motivated, positive, like I can do it. I can get away. I can be happy. Her boyfriend hears. He tells my husband. Husband comes home early. He's livid. He slams me into the wall. Forces himself upon me telling me if I can do it with another man I can do it with him. I'm screaming no. I'm crying. It doesn't matter. Afterwards I feel so sick. I feel so disgusting. I feel used and dirty. I break.
I message my friend. Not telling him much. But that I don't think I can talk to him anymore. He's telling me the most sweet things… he tells me he loves me… we're worried we will never speak again and he tells me he loves me. And this is someone I had once fallen in love with when we were younger…. I knew what I had to do.
My mom and aunts came over to help me clean. I told them what was happening. They stayed with me until the asshole had all of his stuff and was out of the house (with all the freaking spices).
I feel free. I can breathe. I survived. I did it. I look at my son and start crying. I text my friend and tell him that I made him leave. He's gone and not coming back. Well my friend came over that night, and here it is, the beginning of March a year later. March 22nd marks our anniversary. My son loves him. Has even started calling him daddy although we correct him. He's good for us. After we got together my youtube shut down. I lost all income. He has provided for me and my son since. My divorce finalized September 2018 right before my 22nd birthday. Here I am. A year of being loved. A year of being free.
But it's not that easy. And sadly my fight is not over. I have a PFA put on my ex. He hasn't seen me or my son since November. We had court early February for the PFA violation (he tried finding out my new address) that day he served me with custody papers. For court the next day at the PFA hearing. My lawyer couldn't be there. We had it pushed to April. Now DHR Is court ordered and involved. And I'm terrified of losing my son. I have over 30 photos of the abuse and an 18 minute video of him talking in detail about what he did to me not being aware that I was recording.
I am crazy now. I'm not who I once was. Survival during those 3 years was easier than life now. Trying to cope, move on, and actually live a life is so much harder.
I have severe C-PTSD from the abuse. I'm insecure. I don't trust anyone. I lose it and break down crying.
I try. I'm back in therapy. Trying new medications. Trying to get my life together. I will never be the person I was before all of this. I became a hollow empty shell of a person trying to survive. I'm now lost and I don't know who I am. I struggle with the severe depression. I accepted the fact that my ex was going to kill me. I lived like that for years. I have to now learn how to accept the fact that it is OKAY to LIVE. I deserve to be here. I'm not a waste of space. I'm a strong mother. And a strong, brave woman.
I have to find myself. But I know when I do, I am going to be a better, stronger me. I just can't give up. No matter how much I want to. No matter how much the pain hurts. I have to keep pushing. If I give up, he wins. He beat me for years. It's my turn to beat him with life. To fight for custody of my son. To show all of my evidence…
It's not okay right now. My life is harder somehow.. But it will be okay. It'll never happen again. But the memories, the trauma, doesn't just go away. And I'm not able to stop fighting yet.. But one day it'll be easier. That's my hope. One day I'll actually be free...
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