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This is my story of the the abuse I sustained from 1984 - 1991.

I was only 18, he was 21. I had moved in with him and his grandmother. I thought at first it was cool to be away from home. Until, one day, he took me to his friends house. I did'nt know them yet, he had left me there for roughly thirteen hours. While they went out bar hopping. I finally called my mother and had her take me back to his Grandmas house. The next morning he was mad at me for leaving, we got into an arguement. I did'nt know it at the time, that it was just the beginning.

A short while later, his grandmother had passed away. His parents had gone through the house and took everything, except what was in our room. We then found our first apartment. He continued to go out drinking after work. Sometimes not coming home until after work the next day. He was also snorting cocaine, and smoking weed. After he would come home I was pushed against the walls, by his hands grasping my throat. He would also toss me around by my arms. Leaving alot of bruises. At first I never told anyone, hid my marks even in the ninety plus degree summer weather. I had lost several jobs because, they knew I was having alot of problems. Dispite the fact that I always showed up on time, everyday.

He was the type of person who would cut out the coupons. Then he would write down at what store, the items I was to pick up. Even if it meant going to six different stores. I had to follow his rules, or I was a bad girl and needed to be punished. I later found out, I was going to have our daughter. He did'nt want to take resposibility, so i was told to get on welfare our he would kick my? well you know. So I did. He made sure he did'nt hurt me during the pregnancy. After the delivery, he was good to me until one night we had gone to a friends house. Nicole was colic, she had started crying and would'nt stop. He demanded we leave. He held her in his arms, I began to drive. Before we made it to the first corner, we began to fight. He proceeded to grab my arm making me swerve into oncoming traffic. Lucky for us noone was on the road.

Another time, him and his friend had gone out drinking. When they got home, they started getting high. I don;t remember what I said but, he pushed me over a foot stool, when I got up he pushed me into the couch, I started kicking him in the crotch. Blocking it he got madder. He next had me pinned to the wall with his hand on my throat, lifting me off the ground. I ran for Nicoles room hid behind the crib, and he pushed the crib up against me pushing us into the wall. I'm yelling at his friend to call 911, he would'nt. Finally, I ran for the door, he kicked me with full force, on the tail bone. Locking the door behind him. I ran next door, they called the police. I then called my mother, who in turn called my step brother.

After a few minutes everyone showed up, the cops took pictures of me, my bruises. He and his buddy had dissapeared, and locked Nicole in the house, took the coil wire off my car. The cops started to break a window in the kitchen to get to my baby, when he and his friend started approaching us. They grabbed the keys, then cuffed and stuffed him. We managed to get all my belongings out, I went back home. My sister moved back home too. So, we rented an appartment together. My ex would continue to come see me, he just would not leave me alone. I had told him it was over, and I did'nt love him anymore. But, it did'nt matter. I was told about a class called women in transition. I started going, he did'nt like that because it made me stronger, and I would fight back. Did'nt matter though.

He followed me everywhere I went. He would steal the keys to my car after I went to bed. Check for cigerette butts that where not mine, check my milage, acusing me of flirting with men walking on the street, or in the stores. I finally started to wear shorts, tanktops to show off the bruises. I wanted him to be intimidated, I wanted people to know what was going on with me. He still continued to abuse me. He left bruises on my throat, from grabbing me, he head butted me in the forehead leaving his mark, as well as his favorite marks on my arms. He would grab me by the crotch proceed to throw me into the walls. The last time, he grabbed the pointy attachment for a vaccume and held it to my throat applying pressure. That scared me. I knew it was time to bail. I had finally had enough, and I had my way out.

My father stayed with us for a week, I planned to drive back home with him to North Bend. Nicole and I stayed there for a week in which time I found a job, lined up daycare. I came back to Portland Told him and his sister you have thirty days to get out. I'm moving to the coast. I left! It was then, I finally had my freedom. I was 250 miles away from him. All I had left was the emotional scars, which effected my job, one day my manager placed his hand on my throat, showing me how to draw blood from the jugular on an infant. I started crying, it had scared me so much. It was then I had to explain. Lucky for me he was understanding. I still deal with those kinds of things everyday.

To this day, I'm still away from him. I have moved back into the same city. Him living about a mile away. But, we seem to get along okay. We had promised each other that for our daughter's sake we would get along. She visits him on the weekends, which seems to work out pretty well.

Bare in mind my ending won't happen for most, I was one of the lucky ones. Who had alot of courage, and family support along the way. Some woman never find they're inner strength, the programs that are available for displaced housewives. Don't get me wrong, I still don't have my self esteme back, and I continue to have an on-going relationship with depression. But, I am finally away from the abuse. Right now that's what is most important to me.

 

 

 

Cause Submitted by Sister Candi
Text a collaboration of Sister Candi & Sister Dizzy


 

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