Personal Stories

My Domestic Violence Story: Part 2

My Domestic Violence Story Part 2.

TRIGGER WARNING…This post contains details about physical, mental and sexual abuse. I know it can be hard to read if you have lived it. If you are still struggling you can totally skip this post and I promise not to be mad at ya.

My last post was the beginning of my domestic violence back story..but not the whole story. If you would like to catch up and read part one you can do so here…

Caught up? Alrighty..let’s continue.

We are at 4 years of mental, physical, sexual abuse and I was a shell of a human being. At that point I was self employed.I had a pretty successful resale clothing business and that was helping me just cover the bare minimum of my living expenses. Life was pretty miserable. I completely isolated myself from the outside world. I only went out to go to stores to buy inventory for the business and if I went anywhere else he was with me. My overall health was poor.I gained so much weight and I was not caring about routine exams or how my appearance was. I learned through therapy I was subconsciously trying to make myself unattractive as a defense mechanism. 

One morning he wakes up and says to me (after raping me) that I am no longer useful and I’m bringing him down. I’m the reason he can’t hold a job, I’m the reason we are struggling financially, I’m the reason why everything is the way it is. If I wasn’t so bad he would not have to treat me this way and blah blah and blah. Then he said I had to move out. I had been wishing to get out for years but never had the nerve of the resources. This man actually paid for a Uhaul and helped me pack up my things and drove it back to where I had a support system. I drove my car alone and I think I seriously cried for the whole16 hours.

He was actually being civil with the move and to be honest I needed the help. We had to stop halfway and I purchased a hotel room off the interstate for myself and my dogs. I was not planning on him staying in the room with me. That night he felt the need to attack me one last time and got in the room when I went to walk the dogs. This time choking me to where I blacked out. Waking up that morning I instantly felt the pain in my pelvic area and in the mirror saw the bruises. As I left the hotel that morning I could not stop crying every time I saw him following me in the rear view mirror.

When we arrived at our destination he immediately hopped out of the truck and into an Uber to go to the airport to fly back. Just like that we were done and he was gone. No words exchanged.

I wish that is how the story ends…God do I wish.

You know what they say.. It takes many tries to finally rid yourself of an abuser and finally know that you need to get away. I was alone for 6 months trying to rebuild. It was hard and lonely and still was not talking to ANYONE about the pain. Everyone just thought I went through a break up with a long term boyfriend. Then I get an email with an apology, then a text with promises of therapy and then the calls. Love and respect was promised and my dumb ass answered the phone. Slowly he came back into my life. I was weak, scared, lonely, and deep down longing for the man he was at the beginning. I was surprised I still loved this man after everything.

After a forceful conversation and manipulation I was back moving again to his home town where his family lived. He lost his mother and I was finally meeting a few of his family members.I figured he has truly changed being back with his family and he could NEVER be the man he was before. He was broken from losing his mom and he needed someone to help him and love him. I’m such a fool:) 

What I learned from his family was he had a daughter and was physically abusive to her mother. He also went to prison. FUCKING prison for almost killing another man. His cousin was a high powered states attorney and she told me flat out I need to get away from this man. WHAT?!?! No wonder he kept me away for them for so long.

More moves and the abuser in him started creeping back out. Year 4 and 5 was the years I pretty much gave up on everything.Death was welcomed. I was back in the depths of hell and I was too embarrassed to admit I made a mistake by having him back in my life. At this point in year 6, I am completely unemployed, no money, no car because he took it. He had a company car when I first met him and when he first got fired he just used mine and pretty much never gave it back. I was completely isolated from family and friends again and everyday was hoping I didn’t wake up from sleep. I wanted nothing more than the pain to go away. To end it. I was just scared to do it myself. With each rape, hit, choke, punch I was hoping it would be the final one. I would dream of him getting arrested. Having to answer to his family and my people what happened and have him look them in the eye. I always wondered if his daughter knew what he did to her mother. While I was with him his daughter and him had a rocky relationship. He would always preach about staying in school working hard and would take her to volunteer and help the community. Saying service to others was essential and giving back was just what you do. Meanwhile when they were out I was soaking in the bathtub to ease the pain of the cuts and bruises.

February 2nd 2019

That was my independence day. It started as any other day or move for that matter. We were expected to move cross country again. One of the rare times we were actually moving together and at the same time. Boxes were packed and just a few last minute errands needed to be done before we loaded up the U-Haul and we were going to hit the road. Of course I was always so happy anytime I could be alone in the car and just drive. I felt so free. So I begged if I could drop off the cable box and the other random tasks that needed to be done. He actually said yes. It was shocking since I was not allowed to go anywhere alone. That’s why it was such a treat.I dropped him off to pick up the U-Haul and the car hauler. I told him I would be back in about an hour and I set my phone timer. Always hell to pay if I was even a minute late so I wanted to keep track of how I was doing. He said take your time which I thought was odd and I was off.

My hour was almost up. When I rounded the corner to the house I saw that the U-Haul was not there. I wondered if there was an issue at the store. I paid in full so there should not have been an issue. I pulled in the driveway and opened the garage door and it was completely empty. Only an hour later it was full of boxes and furniture. We didn’t have much but we moved pretty much everything in the garage the night before so it would be an easy and quick load in. Guess it was quick and easy because everything I owned inside the house and outside was gone. HE was gone. I walked in the house. Empty. There was a note on the table that said Go Fuck Yourself Bitch and a $20 dollar bill. For that moment that was the only thing I had. My car, the clothes on my back and my two dogs. I later found a box of clothes that actually was labeled Amy’s clothes that he left so I had a little bit more. I was terrified and overjoyed with tears at the same time. As I sat on the empty floor I had no idea what to do next but I knew I was going to be ok. He was gone and I had a lot of work to do to pick up the pieces.

Typically you want to be the hero in your own story. Being brave enough to leave with your head held high and a middle finger in the air. This man left me in the most dramatic of ways. And I’m eternally grateful he did. Looking back I wouldn’t have had the strength. He gave me the best gift that day.

In the next few posts I will talk more about my recovery and struggles while trying to rebuild my life. 

Til next time

xoxo

Amy

Personal Stories

My Domestic Violence Story..Part 1

TRIGGER WARNING…This post contains details about physical, mental and sexual abuse. I know it can be hard to read if you have lived it. If you are still struggling you can totally skip this post and I promise not to be mad at ya.

Hey all!  Today I wanted to get real deep and basically rip the bandaid off and tell you about my past and how I am trying and still trying to pull myself out of the darkness that was my life for 6 freaking years. I want you to get to know the real person behind the blog. My struggles and the backstory that makes me who I am today.

This February I am 5 years free of my abuser and I will tell you not a day goes by that I do not have a flashback, or a random nightmare or even just adjusting how I do normal day to day activities because of it. I will say I am doing much better but those 6 years has shaped how I do things now. Some good and some bad.

So let’s get into it..

First to be able to get to the point where I am telling the story publicly is a HUGE win. It does get easier to talk about and also therapeutic but those first few days of being alone and having to ask for help was the hardest part. I have always been a pretty independent person. Did most things for myself and was always the one everyone else would come to for help. I never asked for anything.

So when I met Mr. Fuck Face AKA MFF (totally petty I know but for me it makes me feel a bit better) I seriously thought I met the all around perfect package. He was smart, handsome, funny, loves sports and worked in the same industry as I did. We actually met because we worked for the same large sporting company. Different departments but ours co mingled nicely. I would see him in meetings and around campus. Having to travel for work I would see him in different cities as well since we both had to go to away events. Stolen glances and cute smiles here and there. And I’m not above admitting that I found him and followed him on Twitter. One night..(with wine probably) I decided to slide into his Dm’s to say hello. It was more like…”Hey you popped up on Twitter and realized we never have actually spoken but we have been in the room like a million times so wanted to say hello”

Do you ever have a moment in your life that one decision you made changed the whole course of your life? That was mine. Sliding into the effing DM’s like a teenage girl. That was the beginning. The beginning of 6 years of feeling worthless, empty, full of pain and sadness, scared and feeling that death might have been a better choice. Yeah it was that bad where I felt that not living was better than living. Terrifying.

Once the Dm’s were flowing, the texting started and the flirting at work increased. We had our first actual date at the breakfast place before work. Scary to think after that date I had a really great feeling about this man. Still to this day it has rocked my judgment of character. By the way you will always question the what ifs. It will always drag you down. You can’t change it..just learn and heal.

Here is where it gets a bit crazy and insane. Full disclosure: I actually just went through a painful divorce a year before. (more on that later) I was JUST finally getting over that and was not looking to date but he just showed up when I wasn’t looking. In hindsight I probably wasn’t fully healed from a failed marriage but knowing now that’s what he was praying on.

See if you can spot the first red flag that I CLEARLY didn’t see. We were casually dating, having a fun time watching sports, dining out on sushi and had the best conversations. He just moved to the city where our headquarters were located and he was living out of a hotel until he found housing. 3 weeks in we were getting closer and he was over at my place and we were watching a game on tv. It was getting late but neither one of us was making a move. What a gentleman right? We could feel the tension building but again nothing happened. We said goodnight and hugged at my front door and he was off. And get this ladies..It was like a damn rom com movie. Not even 10 minutes after I watched his taillights leave my place I got a knock on the door. Open it and he comes full on and kisses me and said he could not leave without doing that. And IT WAS ON! It was fast and super romantic and I loved every second of it. He spent the night that night for the first time. But sadly it was the first night he stayed and he never left after that.

Remember when I said he was living in a hotel. Well the company I worked for was pretty cheap with its employees so it wasn’t the greatest. So at the beginning of “us” we went out almost every night after work. Happy hours and then back to my place where I felt bad he had to go back to that crappy hotel when he could just stay here with me and we could “snuggle”. A few days turned into a week and then two. He was gone for a few days because of work travel but that’s it. His things were just starting to stay at my place because it was “easier”.

3 weeks in he was fully moved into my one bedroom apartment and I didn’t even notice or care because everything was so great and we were connecting on a level that I was missing in my marriage.I was in a full fledged relationship and living together after 3 weeks of the DM slide. This red flag I think belongs to me. I still have not forgiven myself for not understanding how quick it was and just how risky and wrong that was. Oh he took full advantage but I still was the one to open the door. This is now what I have found to be called love bombing.

Things were fantastic the first 6 months. No issues. Very loving and we had a great relationship. Talked for hours and really got to know each other and even got a brand new amazing condo overlooking a river. Both on the lease and we were moving forward. Together.

Once we got into the new place things started to change. I was getting a more moodier man. More snippy comments and him being more withdrawn. I would try and talk to him about it but this is when the insults and putdowns start gradually. I was being told I’m reading into things and it’s none of my business what he was feeling. I remember feeling so rejected that the tears started flowing. He looked right at me with disgust and said..”Oh shit your going to be one of those girls that cries over everything.” That was the start of everything being my fault. I was causing the mood swings, snippy comments, put downs. Each night I went to bed wondering where was the man I had for the first 6 months. Where did he go?

Then he got fired from the company I worked for for 4 years. Instantly it was something I did. I must have done something to get him fired. I just remember how exhausted and tired I was trying to defend myself. I still to this day do not know the reason, but that was job number 1 out of many I had to weather the storm.

Two weeks later and maneuvering around a very moody man I came home from work. He had flowers and presents and a dinner reservation waiting for me. Crying he said how sorry he was the last few months and I should have never been the brunt of his anger. I was crying, he was crying and it was so tender and honest and real..or so I thought.

After dinner we get home and I run upstairs to change. I decided to be cute and was going to wear one of his comfy sweatshirts and we could snuggle up and have a great rest of the night on the couch watching our favorite shows. I walk into his closet to find it all packed up with 3 suitcases and everything gone. I went into the bathroom and all his stuff was off the counter and packed. I ran downstairs and immediately started crying and wondering what was going on. He tells me he took a job in another state 1500 miles away and he is getting on the train in an hour and I need to drop him off at the station. WHAT THE ENTIRE FUCK?

That was the beginning of me moving all over the country for this man. Job to job and state to state. Why I decided to follow was because I loved him. I thought he loved me and he kept promising the next state, the next job was going to be the one to get us to levels we never were before. He was a very successful man in his industry. He talked a great game and employers bought it..but the pattern was after 6 months it was over and we were on to the next one. We moved 8 different times to 6 different states. I have a wide variety of clipped license plates and driver’s licenses.

With each and every move it happened like the first one. I would come home and he would tell me he was moving THAT day and I would have to stay behind and pack up, tie up loose ends and then he would come back and get me to move everything to our new home or state. I had an amazing career in sports that I loved. I tried to keep up and find a job in each state but as you can imagine it was starting to get hard to explain why I bounced around so much. Before I met him I was with my company for 5 years and the job before that 7 years. Eventually I had to start my own company and make my own money so the moves would not affect my personal income. Meanwhile I would be paying for all the moves and expenses. He would always tell me his employer would cover the move and to keep the receipts but of course that never was returned.

With each and every move his attitude was getting worse. The verbal insults, gaslighting and emotional roller-coaster was getting too much to bear. I had a mental breakdown in year 3. Got on meds, therapy, the whole thing. But of course me being super embarrassed I never said why EXACTLY I was upset. I was protecting him. During that time was when he raped me for the first time.

Needless to say after being an emotional punching bag for so long I was not exactly in the mood for sexy time. I was beginning to resent him and trying to figure out a way to get out. One night I was sleeping and woke up to him holding me down and he was trying to get inside me. I was fighting and trying to get away but he was so much bigger. I remember just laying there and waiting for it to be over. This was the first of many. Each time getting more and more violent and more forceful. It was very degrading and he was physically injuring my body. I remember once I actually had a OBGYN appt two days after and I swear the Dr knew something was off because it hurt so bad while she was doing the exam. Of course I never said anything.

6 years and not one word. Not to family, friends and even doctors that clearly knew what was going on but with a straight face I told my cover story. 

In the next post I will talk about how I broke free…It’s not how you would exactly think. 

Til next time..

Amy

Personal Stories

Hello and welcome to the Shit Show!

VULGAR SLANG: US noun: shit show

  1. a situation or event marked by chaos or controversy.
  2. my life

Hey all,

I totally felt like I had to start my first blog post with what I say almost daily. It could be about me or others, but let’s face it..we all love a good shit show. That’s probably why you are here and why we are going to be best friends. I love you guys already. 

My name is Amy and that’s really all I can tell you for now. I’ll explain more on that in a future post. Unfortunately that’s a shit show that’s not so great but I’ll totally be transparent in due time.

Damn that sounds like an amazing cliffhanger. Crazy woman starts blog and has a mysterious past. Oooh I can’t wait to see how this turns out.

I have wanted to start this project for a while. I’ve been equal parts scared of putting myself out there and just plain life getting in my way. I initially wanted an outlet to get my thoughts out. To feel someone out there, anyone really, could hear me and I’d feel seen and heard. I needed that desperately. I mostly just wrote in a journal but I feel a bit stronger and a tad bit more brave. My guess is there are others like me out there that need an outlet. 

This blog is all about random thoughts, humorous observations, recovery, and lots of shit show topics that sometimes you just have to scream your favorite swear word of choice to get through the day, hour or minute. It’s ok. We are swearing with you. I’m not a professional writer and the grammar police will have a heyday with my writing style I’m sure. I’m just a lady who has gone through some shit and is ready to unpack it all and drink a glass of wine and laugh at funny things. It’s been a long time and I’m ready to get my life back.

Let’s Fucking Go!

Amy