When it hurts so bad

They say a picture is worth a thousand words, and that may be true, but one can't believe everything they see. Take this photograph for instance.  Here I am with the love of my life, celebrating the expectant birth of my first child.  The room was overflowing with people who loved and supported me...who supported us. Our baby was lavished with gifts and when it was all over we packed up our car and went home. I checked the answering machine (the home phone hadn't quite phased out yet) like I always did and a woman's voice came on. I don't remember what the message said, but I do recall telling my child's father I didn't want that woman calling our home again. I confronted him about it and was met with the same reaction I'd always gotten from him when things didn't go his way. I was 7 months pregnant and not in any condition to fight so I told him we should both just calm down and leave the issue alone. Needless to say he wasn't having that. A fire had been ignited and he was determined to give me what I was “asking” for. I walked off going towards our bedroom trying to get away and be left alone. As soon as I turned my back I felt a pang in my scalp. My boyfriend (who is now my ex-husband) grabbed my hair by the handful. He began screaming at me calling me every bitch in the book. I broke loose ran to the bedroom and locked the door. This only incited his rage. “Didn't I tell you about locking the motherf***ing door!” he yelled before he literally knocked the door off the hinges for the second time. Honestly everything that occurred after that is a blur. The only thing I remember after that was standing in the bathroom looking in the mirror at my busted lip and the huge bald spot I had in the middle of my head. I looked at my reflection thinking what had I done to deserve this? Is this really an environment I want my child too grow up in; which consequently had also been the type of environment I grew up in. I emerged from the bathroom and was met by boyfriend who had made an icepack for my lip. He then coddled me and explained to me how it was my fault that things got out of hand because I had disrespected him. I should had never raised my voice to him (smh). I told myself that after he left to go to work that night I'd leave. I'd grab the bag I had hidden away in the closet and return home to go live with my mama and my sister. I'd get as far away as I could and start over. But the other voices would creep in. "Who's gonna want a woman with a baby? You'll be another statistic, a typical black woman with a baby daddy. And you'll have a child growing up without a father just like you did; and look how your life turned out."  and so...I stayed. And for the next 12 years I endured the abuse (verbal, physical, and mental) feeling so trapped that finally I concluded my only way out was death, and it most definitely was not going to be mine.

According to the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence on average, nearly 20 people per minute are physically abused by an intimate partner in the United States. During one year, this equates to more than 10 million women and men. That means 1 in 3 women and 1 in 4 men have been victims of [some form of] physical violence by an intimate partner within their lifetime. And more than 20,000 phone calls are placed daily to national abuse hotlines (ncadv.org/statistics).

As staggering as those numbers are those closest to the abused usually don't have a clue as to what is happening. My immediate family lived far away so the news of the abuse was a complete shock to them; my closest friends however sort of had a clue. My behavior had changed, and it wasn't just due to my new role as a parent. Before I met my abuser, my friends and I would hang out at each others’ apartments or go to happy hour together. After meeting him those things quickly changed. He had convinced me that my friends were nothing and no one in comparison to him. According to him, they didn't “give a f**k” about me and they were “trash” who weren't allowed in our home. I was so in love (and so hellbent on not being a statistic) that I was willing to do whatever it took to make my relationship last, praying every night that he would change, and change he did. With each passing year the abuse grew more intense and more frequent. I would tell myself things like, “He'll change when the baby comes,” “Once the baby gets older he'll stop because no one would act like this in front of their child.” and my go-to excuse was, “Once we get married he’ll stop because no one would treat their wife this way.”   As if somehow my change in status would make a difference.  I have to laugh as I write this. I spent so much time waiting on a person to change instead of firmly putting my foot down from day one. Our first date he refused to open the car door for me. I asserted myself, made a little fuss, but he replied “That's stupid. The door already unlocked. That's what alarms are for.” I opened my door, got into the car.  I tried a few more times to get him to bend, but he held steadfast in his refusal to open my car door.  Once I gave in to that I believe it sparked the idea for him to see how controlling he could be, and what I would actually comply with. I mean literally with every guy I dated up until him I was adamant about him opening my car door, and if you didn't we would never go out again. I felt it was an issue of chivalry, and common decency; however,  instead of trying to get an understanding of where I was coming from he shot the notion down because it wasn't an act HE wanted to do. In hindsight I can now recognize so many red flags, but when you're dealing with a narcissistic manipulator it's hard to see the forest for the trees. And I never really told anyone because I was too embarrassed.

This isn't my entire story, however it's a snapshot of my[former] life that I pray will help someone else. I'm currently divorced and after 12 grueling years of living in fear and chaos I'm finally “reclaiming my time” so to speak. I've made a conscious effort to reconnect with those friends I neglected. I've begun a career in education and I'm currently working on my Master's of Arts in Psychology. If you have a friend whom you feel is an abusive relationship please don't shun or dismiss them for not confiding in you or leaving the relationship. Being a victim of domestic abuse is similar to that of being an addict; for the simple fact that you aren't going to leave until you finally hit your rock bottom.  And many times children of domestic violence are 3 times more likely to get into abusive relationships themselves. These individuals (myself included) are so conditioned to observing domestic violence that it becomes seen as a relational norm. If you feel you may be in an abusive relationship please call a domestic violence hotline. And know that as long as you stay, it won't get better.

Peace and blessings.

Signs of abuse: https://ncadv.org/signs-of-abuse

For anonymous, confidential help, 24/7, please call the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-7233 (SAFE) or  1-800-787-3224 (TTY).