When I first met him, I had little interest. He was just this guy who never seemed to take life serious, he persued me persistently. He joked all of the time, and eventually that sense of humor wore me down. We had a lot of fun together in the beginning. We worked for a travelling door to door sales company, so we got to take in a lot of sites for the first time together. AND…He treated my son, who was travelling with me, as his own.
Some months had gone by, and I started seeing a change. He became angry. His sense of humor, lost. He got angry one day at my son and called him a “little faggot” I was pissed. I mushed his head and told him to NEVER speak about my son like that again. He responded with a full right hook to my left eye. Witnesses called the police. I hid in the parking garage, but the police would not leave until I came out. So, I did. He went to jail. I grabbed my son and went to bed.
The next day, when I went to start our morning meeting before work, I stopped at my boss’ room to get the office key, and he broke down and cried at the sight of my face. I was unrecognizable. I hadn’t even looked in the mirror. I remember my son telling me I had a big bruise and just telling him it was nothing and would go away soon… afterall, his mom is the toughest person he knows.
Being a stupid girl, I bailed him out of jail and did not show up for his court hearing… and we stayed together. Several months later, on a whim, we married while in Las Vegas for work. The abuse didn’t stop. He just stopped leaving marks on my face so that the other guys we worked with would not kick his ass for what he was doing to me…. and he cheated on me, blatantly. I allowed it. We argued about it, sure, and I got hit for speaking my mind. But, I stayed, therefore, I allowed it.
Tensions were high at our job. My co-workers loved me but hated him. My boss constantly called me a dummy for dealing with him. I spent so many days fighting my friends in defense of him. Looking back now, I don’t understand why, but we will get to that soon enough. My son was also in kindergarten and changing schools every couple of weeks was rough on him, so we decided to leave the sales crew and settle down.
We stayed with a friend for a week, while we searched out a place of our own. We moved in to our first place, which should have been a happy thing, but I just found out that I was pregnant, and he was getting lazy when it came to working and would get mad at me and make accusations of cheating while I was working.
After our daughter was born, he became abusive towards my son. I still stayed. He tied him to the basement stairs and beat him with a belt…with his fists. I stayed. He took every toy he owned and gave them to some kids outside playing in a neighboring town because our dog slipped out the door when he opened it. I stayed. He locked my son in a closet and stomped his face. I called the police and when they came, I prayed my son had the strength to tell them what happened and have him locked up, but he lied. He said it was an accident that he should not have been in the closet. I cried. He lied. He lied because his mother was not strong enough to be on her own. Without him. I stayed.
Things like this went on and on. We, at one point, ended up living in a hotel. I started taking CNA classes at a nearby nursing home. He left. He left with the woman he had been seeing, who was very pregnant with his child. He left me, my son, and our daughter in a roach hotel while he moved in to her nice comfy apartment. What a guy! A little light finally went off in my brain.
I filed for divorce. Things got crazier after that. I guess he figured he could no longer physically hurt me that he would emotionally and mentally hurt me through our daughter. She became an innocent, beautiful little pawn in his sick, sadistic games. He would have my car towed from work just before I got off and had to pick the kids up from across town at the day care (winter time mind you). He had the car towed the night before Christmas when I had a trunk full of Christmas gifts. He would show up frantic in the middle of the night talking about emergency trips to see his family and he needed our daughter up and ready to go… I had enough. I put my foot down. I stood up.
During our divorce, I got stuck with joint custody. He would have her a week, then I would have her a week. Every time I got her back from him, she was a shell of a person who would take days to become her happy, playful self while with me. He would call social services on me creating bogus, I mean truly absurd, claims. I would have to call the police because he would not return her to me on time. It got to a point that police and children’s services were on a first name basis with me. At one point, he moved and took her. I had no idea where my baby girl was. I didn’t see her for a month before we could get in front of a judge and the judge tell him to return her to me. It was hell. Using our beautiful baby girl to torture me was worse than any of the physical abuse.
BUT, I got smart. I bided my time. I checked the police station and courthouse frequently to find any screw up he may have done. After almost a year, I had enough to make it so he would have been lucky to even see her under supervision. There was incidents with him shooting his gun at people. There was an arrest of smoking drugs in a hotel on a weekend our daughter was with him. There were lots of incidents like this, so I was locked and loaded. I finally had him! I went back to court, told him what I had while we waited to go into chambers, and he gave up custody to me as soon as we sat in front of the judge.
I would count that as a victory, for sure, but that year or so that it took was horrible for my daughter. It would not be until almost two years later when she would finally tell me stories of what would happen at his house. She was not physically abused, but she was mentally and emotionally abused. She saw him abuse the girl he was with and physical fights between him and her family. He even killed her puppy in front of her. She fears her father with no coercion from me. I have always said my children can make their own decisions when it comes to their fathers, but she has made hers very clear. Even though it has been more than six years since she has seen her father, the wounds are still there.
So, I bet you are asking yourself, how can she be thankful for this horrible, horrible man? I will tell you how. The years that I spent with this man broke me down. I was a shell of the person I once was. The victory of getting my daughter back was all I needed to realize that I needed to get me back too. I will never be that scared, timid girl again. I will never allow another man to put his hands on me or my children. I will never allow a man, who is supposed to love me, make love to another woman. I will always fight for my kids. No one will hurt them…over my dead body. He made me strong. He made me who I am today, and he gave me one of my greatest blessing, my daughter. For that, I will be eternally grateful!
If you have a similar story or want to share what you are thankful for, please do so down in the comment section for this post.
~Tizzy Says…. You do not need a man to define you. Never lose your self.