Hi, where do I start? I watched my mom be abused physically, mentally, emotionally, and verbally growing up. I always said I will not let it happen to me. However, I do recall an argument where I was told I’m stupid, don’t know what I’m talking about, and that my feelings are not valid.  I was 18 years old, and driving during this argument.  As I proceeded to tell him I’m feeling hurt from his cheating, he tried to hit me – mind you, I’m driving.  I swerved the car as I ducked.  My rear view mirror went flying.  I pulled over and told him to get out.

Let’s fast forward.  I have been in this relationship for about 1.5 to 2 years. We had been drinking, and he accused me of trying to have sex with his friend’s brother during a party at his friend’s home.  It quickly escalated; I don’t remember all of it due to being drunk.

I woke up in the backseat, but I know I was in the front when we left the friend’s house.  My face hurt badly; I realized that I had been hit in the face when I looked in the mirror and saw the huge bump that felt squishy.  I told him I wanted to leave him, and of course he said he was sorry won’t ever do it again.  

Fast forward again.  It’s a year to a year and a half later.  We get married – we argued, but it was never physical.  After we got married, he said I must be a lesbian since I wanted to have dinner or hang out with my co-worker on one occasion.  It was a Saturday, and I worked a nine hour shift no break.  I did hair back then.  She and I just wanted to split an appetizer at the restaurant across the street

I told her okay, and that I would meet her there.  I called my husband to let him know so he wouldn’t worry about me.  That’s when the name-calling started.  I called my co-worker and told her that I couldn’t go because I didn’t want to fight all night over chicken wings and fries.

It continued and continued.  We would fight and he would call me many names, say that I was lying about my whereabouts, and degrade me.  I finally divorced him.

In 2012, I got into another relationship.  Things were great at first.  He asked me to move in with him.  Since he stayed with his mom, I asked if she would even allow that – it’s kind of disrespectful.  He said he spoke to her and she would let me stay for $100 less rent than what I was paying my roommate.  So I said okay.  

As soon as I moved in, he began stealing my debit card while I was sleeping and deplete my account.  I added him to my phone plan, and then started having trouble paying that bill.  I never could pay his mom.  She told me that he stole thousands from his grandmother.  I was totally shocked.  We argued over money, yet he wouldn’t work.  Even though I had two jobs, I was totally broke – and I had trouble paying the phone bills and his mom.  He told me I was crazy to think that money was disappearing from my account.

Finally, I caught him.  He still denied it.  This is when the fighting – including verbal, mental, and emotional abuse – got worse.  It became physical as well.  After a while, I was finally able to leave him.

I called my dad in Tennessee (I was in Indiana).  I moved to my dad’s house, only to find out I was pregnant.   My dad said that I shouldn’t tell him about the pregnancy, but I couldn’t do that to my child.  I also told my dad that I was messed up from his absence during the first 10 years of my life, and I wouldn’t put that on any of my children.  My father was scared for me.

I moved back to Indiana to stay with him and his mother.  Shortly after my return, the physical abuse started again.  After I reached out to her, his older sister invited me to move in with her.  He followed me, and banged on the door demanding to be let in.  She obliged, and he told her that I was cheating while he did side jobs.  Made me wonder what he was really doing, to be honest.  

We ended up at his mom’s house again.  He got violent; I fell on my pregnant stomach quite a few times.  His mom would call the police; they would arrest him, but he’d be released on his own recognizance without being charged.  I couldn’t believe it.  

I was able to get on Section 8 and get my own apartment.  After my daughter was born, he moved in with us.  We found out she was born with a rare bone disease called Osteogenesis Imperfecta, also known as brittle bone disease.  It affects approximately 50,000 Americans. 

The last straw came when my daughter was 10 months old.  He was holding her with his free hand while pushing and fighting me with the other.  All I could think about is if he dropped her, she could die or have severe brain damage and/or trauma.  

This is when I started stacking evidence.  I used the social worker notes from the hospital visits for my daughter as evidence.  I called the police on him each time he abused me.  By December of 2013, I was able to get him out my apartment.  He stole my car; I called police to get it back, since I needed to be able to get my child to the doctor.  I had to get a protection order, and the state made me move to a different location.  He found and  followed me; even though I was careful, it was not careful enough.  I was lucky enough to have a friend who is a police officer live next door; this helped to deter his rants and rages.  

I let the protective order run out so that my daughter could visit with her dad – she said she missed him.  Big mistake.  He became physical again, often threatening to kill me.  I was able to make payments to a lawyer and filed for full custody.  The evidence from the hospital and protective orders helped me get full custody.  He still – to this day – threatens me.

Fast forward to 2019.  I got into another relationship – this man was great, or so I thought. But it didn’t take long for the verbal and emotional abuse, gaslighting, and lying to start.  It got old fast.  We split up and reconciled a total of three times.  During our third time back together, he was lying about telling a female that he would meet her and he was single, wanted to date, and have sex.  I asked him about it and was called a stupid idiotic bitch.  He said that he never talked to anyone.  He knocked me out cold after a physical altercation.  Since this occurred outside, my neighbor called the police.  After I regained consciousness, I knocked out his car windows.  He tackled me and began hitting me.  He went to jail; after not speaking for 2-3 years, we were able to talk about our issues and be friends.  He moved out of state and we have spoken since he left.

It’s now 2024.  I still have the verbal, mental, and emotional abuse scars from my oldest daughter’s dad, and it sucks.  All I can do is realize the only thing I can control is my own actions, behaviors, and thoughts. This does help with me to use coping skills.  Trust me – I  still need millions of coping skills to deal with that father of my oldest child.  

I hope that this story finds you in a place that gives you hope. We can move on and we can get through the rough patches.  We are strong people.  Keep your head held high with a positive focus.