TRIGGER WARNING: The following posts contains details of abuse. If you are sensitive to this subject it is up to you to decide to read this. Thank you.
2012, a turning point in my life. I had lost a friend the year before to cancer, casting myself into the deepest, darkest depression I had never dreamed of. After snapping out of it, I got a new job. This job was one of my more favorite jobs, despite the fact that I was stationed in front of a very large window and froze daily. In the later part of the year, I met someone. At the time, I had no idea what this person was capable of. And being a young mother, I didn’t know I would ever find out.
Around March 2013, I had an issue at work. I went to clock out for the day. I don’t remember much, other than a splitting headache, and my co-worker helping me into a chair. I had passed out, and was found laying on the floor of the break room. My heart shattered as I was taken to the emergency room. After hours and many tests, the result was unclear. I was told to make doctor appointments, get CT scans, MRI, and that I may be epileptic. I cried all the way home. How would I be a good mother to my son if I was constantly falling to the floor?
After a few weeks, I moved in with my now ex. He told me he would take care of my son and I until we got my health taken care of. I ended up losing my job due to battling schedules between work and doctor visits. Every result was the same, “We aren’t sure what’s going on, we need more tests.” Some said a low salt/sugar intake, others said it wasn’t really happening. Regardless, I was left nowhere.
Fast forward to July, 2013. After another extreme pass out, to the point nobody could get me up for a solid two minutes, I heard my now ex yelling at my son, telling him next time I fall to the floor, he needs to quit playing and tell someone. My heart shattered. He’s a kid…let him play I remember thinking to myself in my weakened state. I called what I was told to be the best doctors in our state and set up an appointment. Later that month I had all of my freedoms stripped from me. No driving, no working, nothing. I had to rest, because any amount of stress could send me into a seizure. It had finally been labeled.
My ex instantly started saying that my son was the cause, he was the reason I was passing out. He had never treated my son right, and I knew, as a mother, I had to get us away. My mother made a deal with me, that she would take my son for me until I got better. The depression began hitting harder and harder, and my ex began taking over.
When we first started talking, I finally weighed a healthy weight. I was on track with my goal to not smoke again. When I mentioned to him that I wanted to quit smoking, his first instinct was that I would be fat. He’d tell me that if I turned into a “heifer” he would leave me. I started to cut back on how much I was eating. I never felt good about myself after that. As soon as I dropped my son off to my mom, he told me how awful my child was. I cried, telling him to shut up, and that his daughter isn’t much better.
As time went on, he began getting worse. I have always had an issue with the people I am dating trying to have sex with me while I am asleep. Multiple times I would wake up to him doing just that. I felt helpless, and when he was done and went back to sleep, I’d lay in bed sobbing. He began offering me money for sex, telling me that I’m not a good girlfriend if I don’t make him happy. On days he would have his daughter, they would curl up right in front of me, making me long to have my baby boy back. I hated every fiber of that man’s being. I knew I had to leave.
It happened on a visit with my son. He left for school that day, and I held my baby boy and looked at my father and told him I will stop at nothing to have my son with me, where he belongs. I called my ex and told him that I was done, and that I’d be living with my dad. He told me nobody would ever love me like he does. For a while I believed it, but remained separated from him. He would call, offering money for sex. I had enough. I snapped at him, called him everything I had wanted for months.
My abuser is still out in the world, living a normal life. He’s a serpent with a silver tongue. When I called the police to report him for sexual harassment, the cop called me and told me that when we work out our differences, she will lift the “no contact” against him. I wanted to scream.
I have kept my story in for far too long. I am writing this so that anyone who is suffering from any sort of abuse will speak up. DO NOT let your abuser get away with it like I did. If they truly love you, they won’t do anything to you that could hurt you. Please learn from my mistake. Don’t stay.