I met him in 2015. I was still trying to heal from a relationship where I was cheated on constantly and that had destroyed my mental health. He knew this and promised he would help my healing. He would never do anything to hurt me. I believed him. I was foolish. It started out with constant love bombing. Telling me he knew we were meant for each other. Doing nice things for me, buying me gifts. He moved in rather fast, not even a month into dating(he was previously sharing a home with his father)
Not long after he moved in, the verbal and mental abuse began. I would receive paragraph long texts at work telling me how awful of a person I was. Calling me a b****, w****, and much worse. He knew that I struggled with an eating disorder and make fun of my stretch marks and call me fat. I was at the time, maybe 110 pounds.
He would constantly accuse me of cheating. Take my phone from me as soon as I walked in the door from work and lock himself in the bathroom reading through all of my texts and social media from the day. When he realized there was nothing to find, he would come out even more mad because I was then accused of deleting everything. I was fed up with this one night after he returned my phone, I packed up my son and left without him knowing and went to a friends. I was done. He automatically changed his relationship status to single on his platforms. Yet, continued to call me countless times over and over telling me he was going to kill himself if I didn’t come back to him while also calling me every name in the book and threatening the worst if I didn’t come home. I stayed there the entire night and never left. He showed up at my work the next day crying and asking for my forgiveness. I was foolish and gave him another chance. I was thinking he would change. He didn’t. He made me delete all social media accounts and I was restricted on talking to my siblings and parents. Months later the topic of me leaving that night came up again and I was accused of not being at a friends house but with another man. He went crazy. I was forced to call into work 2 days in a row. In those 2 days I was tortured. And that’s putting it lightly. I was spit on. Hit. Strangled. My hands and feet were duct taped. He made me eat his chewing tobacco. A picture of my son that had his father in it(his leg to be exact) he made me stand against a wall and I wasn’t allowed to sleep. Anytime I would start to nod off he would kick the back of my legs and make my knees buckle and I would fall. He had a rope tied around my neck at one point and I thought I was going to die, so I finally admitted that I had been with another man to just make the beatings stop. I regret that with everything in me now. But I did what I thought would make him stop. He never spoke of these actions ever again. Like it never happened. The months that continued I would find myself being woken out of my sleep by being kicked off of the bed onto the floor. He would then tell me I didn’t deserve to sleep in a bed, I would be left in the floor and I wasn’t allowed to have a blanket. He’s done so many things it’s so hard to tell them all. About 6 months after the beating I ended up pregnant. He was still verbally and mentally abusing me. I tried to explain to him that it wasn’t good for me being in constant stress. He didn’t care. I ended up miscarrying that baby. It broke me. I became depressed. I had no support from him. When I was sent home with the pills to help me pass the fetus, they made me contract and I was yelled at and told not to make any noises (I was passing the fetus and in pain) because he couldn’t handle it. All the while I was dying inside. That was my child. The pills didn’t work so I was scheduled for a D&C. He refused to come to the hospital to support me. I had to have my parents take me. Afterwards I was sore and distraught and he became angry that I didn’t go into work after my surgery.
Over the years I did everything in my power to be “perfect” in his eyes. All the while losing every bit of who I actually am. The mental and emotional abuse never stopped. Constant name calling. Ignoring me. He refused to have any sexual activity with me. Telling me he was teaching me a lesson. I would dress in lingerie and he would laugh in my face. Telling me no one would ever want me with all my stretch marks and how disgusting I am. He controlled every aspect of life. He isolated me and made me believe that no one cared about me. Only him.
I tried for years after I miscarried to become pregnant again, because in my mind I thought that would make him change. It didn’t. I became pregnant with our daughter and I was ecstatic. I love being a mom and I knew that once he seen her, he would have to feel the same.
He never tried to make any of my appointments he wasn’t interested. I was constantly reminded I made him have a child he didn’t want. He didn’t want to be in the delivery room because he was afraid he would pass out. My mother went into the delivery room with me. I have a single photo of him and my daughter after her birth. No family photos. After we were brought back to our room I was trying to figure out latching and breast feeding and he left to get me food. When he came back, he gave my food to my parents and I know that I was out of it a little from my meds and preoccupied, but I started to worry after he wasn’t back in the room after an hour. I began texting and calling to which I was being ignored. It was about 8 pm when he finally answered to which he was angry that my parents didn’t offer him a chair to sit and eat (they did) and then asked why I didn’t get off of my fat a** and let him sit on my bed. Mind you I had a c section hours before. I was heartbroken. I was trying to hide my tears in front of my parents and my son. I was still trying to protect him and how my parents seen him.
I couldn’t control my emotions and ended up telling my parents the situation. Later found out he left and went to watch a movie by “himself” while I was in the hospital being told our daughter had two holes in her heart. Both days I was in the hospital he left me there.
The drugs never stopped the entirety of our relationship. Percocet, Opanas, Suboxen, meth, marijuana. Nothing was ever enough.
He burned my daughters neck with a dab pen while high on meth.
The day after he beat me the final time in October of 2021 and I never looked back.
It’s been a long road since then, mentally trying to recover. I have good days and bad, but I feel like the real me again. I’m safe and happy.
