Disclaimer: This story visits domestic violence. Please, I’m begging you, read this slowly and know it’s ok to turn back at any point. You can X out of this window. You can close this tab. You do not have to read until the end. You don’t have to read it at all. It’s ok.
Understand and know that the reason I’m sharing a snippet of my personal story is to give a voice to those silent. It’s to let these silent people know that they are not alone, I hear them. I know the cycle, I understand the addiction, and I know what it feels like to live life in a deafening and deadly silence. Leaving isn’t easy, it feels impossible, and it will take multiple efforts to rid themselves of the poison. On average, a victim will attempt to leave their abuser 7 times before success.
I’m ok and I will not accept pity or apologies from anyone. In fact, I’ll delete any comments with it. I own this, I’m alive, and that’s all that matters.
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Hindsight is 20/20. I used to sing Eminem and Rihanna’s “Love the Way You Lie” loudly. I think it’s the emotion, aggression, and passion that pulls you in. About two years ago, it came on in the car and the last few years started to flash before my eyes. I began to fully understand the meaning of the words, at least my personal perception of them. I started crying uncontrollably and couldn’t breathe, my heart was racing and I wanted to vomit. I knew the two people in the song. It was us, we were them. I felt the words in the deepest, darkest corner of my soul.
I can’t tell you what it really is
I can only tell you what it feels like
And right now, there’s a steel knife in my windpipe
I can’t breathe, but I still fight while I can fight
As long as the wrong feels right, it’s like I’m in flight
It’s us. We knew we were bad for each other. The dysfunction was intoxicating, a high, like a drug, a bad habit that we couldn’t break. It weakened my soul and dimmed my light. I couldn’t let go. I clung to him.
High off of love, drunk from her hate
It’s like I’m huffing paint and I love her, the more I suffer
I suffocate and right before I’m about to drown
She resuscitates me, she fucking hates me
And I love it,
It sounds crazy, but I know that he loved me the best way he knew how, that way was just very wrong. He always loved to argue with me, picking fights about small stuff was his favorite pastime, just to watch me get riled up and then tell me how cute I was. Sometimes it was out of hate and I’d get to the edge of walking out the door during serious arguments. He’d flip a switch, busting in with his words, gentle hands, and his best love. I’d roll my eyes and concede. He was obsessed with controlling my love, routinely pushing me away and pulling me back in. I hated him but I hated myself more for allowing it.
“I’m leaving you”
“No you ain’t, come back”
We’re running right back, here we go again
It’s so insane ’cause when it’s going good, it’s going great
I’m Superman, with the wind at his back, she’s Lois Lane
But when it’s bad, it’s awful
I feel so ashamed, I snapped, “Who’s that dude?”
I don’t even know his name, I laid hands on her
I’ll never stoop so low again, I guess I don’t know my own strength
Once you get on the roller coaster, it feels impossible to get off. I knew, everyone knew, that he was a better person with me. I encouraged and pushed him professionally to excel. He promoted twice and would ask for advice on how to be a better leader. He really was Superman with the wind at his back and I was Lois Lane. This was the side I loved. I admired him. He was much smarter than most people knew and could build, tear down, and rebuild anything and everything on the planet. The way he used his hands was the sexiest thing I had ever seen and I would watch him work for hours in the garage. The highs were insanely high. The sex was out of this world. His dysfunctional personality was my addiction. The lows were low. Dangerously low. He’d snap and put his hands on me. The next day he would cry and beg for forgiveness.
Just gonna stand there and watch me burn?
Well, that’s alright, because I like the way it hurts
Just gonna stand there and hear me cry?
Well, that’s alright, because I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie
This is where the danger became real. The apologies and declarations of love flooding me. I hated it and loved it at the same time. It was sickening, I was sick. I hated him for hurting me but I would forgive him for lying to me AGAIN, for touching me, just drowning in his words and soaking them up. Praying that it would be the last time. I was in love with the highs and the potential that I saw in him. I wasn’t in love with who he truly was. I was in love with the fake him. The real him is a monster.
You ever love somebody so much you can barely breathe when you’re with ’em?
You meet, and neither one of you, even know what hit ’em
Got that warm fuzzy feeling, yeah, them chills, used to get ’em
Now you’re getting fucking sick of looking at ’em
You swore you’ve never hit ’em, never do nothing to hurt ’em
Now you’re in each other’s face
Spewing venom in your words when you spit ’em
You push, pull each other’s hair, scratch, claw, bit ’em
Throw ’em down, pin ’em, so lost in the moments when you’re in ’em
It’s the rage that took over, it controls you both
Our connection wasn’t instantaneous. He was an emotional loose cannon. I saw a man that was broken. Boy was he persistent. He’d text me, call me, whatever and tell me ‘persistence is key.’ Eventually I caved and it became a whirlwind after that. It took some time but eventually we both would use our words to cut each other as deeply as possible. Hate pouring out of us. He knew my trigger words and I knew his, giving us both too much power. I never ever initiated physical contact with him. He was tall, big, and strong. He knew how to wrestle, pin people down, and fight. I knew all of this. I had even tested his boundaries when it came to violence.
So they say you’re best to go your separate ways
Guess that they don’t know ya ’cause today, that was yesterday
Yesterday is over, it’s a different day
Sound like broken records playin’ over
But you promised her, next time you’ll show restraint
You don’t get another chance, life is no Nintendo game
We were very aware of how dangerous our relationship was and chose to live on the highs and persevere through the lows, addicted to each other’s brokenness. Addicted to the pushes and pulls that we would engage in. The cycle of breaking up and getting back together was constant and incredibly exhausting. He would make promises and I’d choose to believe them.
Now I know we said things, did things that we didn’t mean
Then we fall back into the same patterns
Same routine, but your temper’s just as bad as mine is
You’re the same as me, when it comes to love, you’re just as blinded
Baby, please come back, it wasn’t you
Baby, it was me, maybe our relationship isn’t as crazy as it seems
Maybe that’s what happens when a tornado meets a volcano
All I know is I love you too much to walk away though
I don’t know what’s worse than blind love, but we were that. Him always taking ownership of our lows at the very last second. Me, standing there stupid, thinking he had maybe finally seen the light. It was rarely ever me that needed to apologize. I mean, for what? I wasn’t the problem but I was the enabler. A tornado and a volcano, colliding.
Come inside, pick up your bags off the sidewalk
Don’t you hear sincerity in my voice when I talk?
Told you this is my fault, look me in the eyeball
Next time I’m pissed, I’ll aim my fist at the drywall
Next time? There won’t be no next time
I apologize, even though I know it’s lies
I’m tired of the games, I just want her back, I know I’m a liar
If she ever tries to fucking leave again
I’m a tie her to the bed and set this house on fire
Oh, the PROMISES, the apologies, the love that poured from his mouth and temporarily through his actions. The first time he said, “If you leave me, I’ll kill you,” was in a joking voice and I laughed with him. He usually said it during a high while looking at me with his twisted sense of what love was in his eyes. Sometimes it was jokingly, sometimes with affection, sometimes during an argument but I didn’t take it that seriously.
I mean, he loved me so much that if I left him, he would kill me. If that’s not real love, I don’t know what is. (Insert sarcasm and and a hefty eye roll)
March 31, 2017 around 10 pm. I did try to leave for what must have been the 12th, 13th, 14th, 27th time. This time was different, though. He could hear the peace and contentment in my voice with the decision and he hit the ceiling with rage. I won’t go into the details, but that night I accepted that I was going to die. I laid on the floor while he locked eyes with me, the hate and disgust radiating from his soul through his piercing blue eyes. I’ve never experienced anything like it. I fought for as long as I physically could, trying to regain control of my body, trying to push him off of me, but my adrenaline rush was wearing off, I was gasping for oxygen when he decided to let me taste it, praying to God that my kids would know how loved they were by me. Wondering, if I lived, if my ex husband would bring them to the hospital to see me. I was begging internally for one last chance to see their sweet faces. Praying immediately that my ex wouldn’t bring them and they’d never see me like that. Wondering what he would do with my body. He was smart, he could get rid of me forever. A missing person, never to be seen or heard from again. Surely he’d be a suspect, though, right?! I mean, seriously. All of these thoughts racing through my mind in nanoseconds, feeling my body giving up, knowing it would just be Jesus and me in a matter of moments. At one point, he had shoved a tshirt so far down my throat the I couldn’t breathe through my mouth or nose. He had restrained me in a way that he was just watching me suffocate to death. I desperately hung onto to the image of my children’s faces, hoping we had taken enough photos together, hoping they’d never forget the sound of my laughter or how I’d whisper, “I love you,” in their ears. I was tired, my muscles were tired, my brain was tired, my lungs were exhausted.
Here I am, though. Alive and thriving. Happy, independent, and surrounded by the strongest tribe of family and friends.
Please, if you need help, contact the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-7233. The Salvation Army is an incredible resource at 1-844-458-4673. They will assist you with transitioning into a life without violence.
If you are in immediate danger, please, call 911.
Love you guys.
Come As You Are... 
Well said, truth.
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