Often, victims of intimate\npartner violence do not realize that they are being abused or that the abuse is\na deliberate choice of their partner. Domestic violence is, in fact, a pattern\nof toxic behaviors characterized by a heightened level of control and\nmanipulation, not a loss, and is it not an anger management issue. Nothing a person\nsays or does ever justifies the abuse, and it is never the victim\u2019s fault.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n For several years, Trina\nendured escalating levels of verbal, emotional, and physical abuse and did anything\nshe could to avoid upsetting her boyfriend. She was isolated from her family\nand friends, and when her boyfriend proposed to her, he told her that she did\nnot deserve the ring he gave her. Trina shares with us what happened the day\nshe realized she was being abused and how her experiences have affected her. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n It was a beautiful, sunny day,\nand we were headed off together on a family outing. I was surprised and excited\nthat he even invited me. After a few years of leaving me to watch from the\nsidelines and going to festivals and concerts alone, he finally asked me to go\nwith him. He wanted to bring his family, and I felt lucky.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The air was warm, and the sun was\nbright. We had the top of our convertible \u2013 a Nissan 240 \u2013 down, enjoying the\nbeautiful weather. His passion was cars, and he often shared it with me by teaching\nme facts about different vehicles. I was genuinely thrilled both that we were part\nof his day and that he actually wanted to spend time with us. Things were\nfinally looking up, and I felt hopeful.<\/p>\n\n\n\n When the first part of\ntheir trip to the car show was uneventful, Trina hoped that it would be a good\nday.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n We pulled into the drive-thru and\nordered french fries, a reliable favorite, for my son. He asked for a coke for\nme and his usual \u2013 Coke Zero with light ice. When we pulled up the window and\nreceived our order, it was correct, and he did not get angry; he did not like\nmistakes. <\/p>\n\n\n\n It was turning out to be the most\nperfect day. I spent months tending to our garden outside, working hard to make\nour yard heaven on earth, so maybe, just maybe, he could be happy at home. Perhaps\nhe would not get so angry if we were surrounded by beautiful plants and natural\nfoods. <\/p>\n\n\n\n He always lectured me on my food\nchoices, but usually ate cheeseburgers in the driveway and hid it from me. I\ndid not mind; we all have our addictions and preferences. He was so proud of\nhis past weight loss journey, and I could tell that when his weight went back\nup, it bothered him greatly. When I looked at him, however, that was never what\nI saw. It was his humor and smile that got my attention. He was beautiful no\nmatter what size he was, and I always wished he could see that. There were\nmoments when his laughter would light up the room, and I did everything I could\nto draw that laugh out of him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n We cruised with ease down the\nhighway. No one tried to pass him, and no one followed too close. I sat next to\nhim in the passenger seat, excited and hopeful. “Today, he will not get\nangry. Today, no other driver frustrated him. Even the cashier did everything\nperfectly. He has no reason to be mad today, so it is perfect \u2013 just\nperfect.”<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n It was all coming together.\nFinally, we were going to spend time together, and I felt so lucky to be\ninvited to be by his side. Most trips that he invited me to go on were business-related.\nWe never really did anything I wanted to do, and I was okay with that. A part\nof me deeply wanted to visit art museums and different states that were not\npopular for medical marijuana dispensaries \u2013 his favorite. <\/p>\n\n\n\n I was head over heels for him. I\nloved this man, and it was okay that he did not hear me. It was even okay that\nwe only followed his passions, just as long as he was happy. I loved his smile.<\/p>\n\n\n\n We cruised along, smiling big as\nthe wind ran through my hair. I brought my hair tie to hold it back so I would\nstill look presentable when we went to the car show. I needed to be a girl he\ncould be proud of. He was always so critical of my style, the way I moved, what\nI ate, and how I spoke. Forget any political opinions; when I had those, he\ntold me I was deeply bothered. I started to stay silent so my opinions would\nnot upset him. I thought that maybe he was right because he paid for\neverything. <\/p>\n\n\n\n During their relationship,\nTrina compromised, sacrificed, and disregarded her needs to keep her boyfriend\nhappy. <\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n And maybe he was right about my\njob as an exotic dancer. Maybe I would embarrass him if his friends saw me on\nstage and enjoyed my presence. I loved this man, and I would do anything to\nmake him comfortable even though it meant giving up one of my greatest passions\n\u2013 dance \u2013 and my sexuality.<\/p>\n\n\n\n With the way he lectured me about\nmoney, I always offered to go back to that job again because I could easily\nbring quite a bit of money home each night. He assured me that he would rather\ntake care of the bills than make me go through that horrible experience. So I\ndid not need to leave to dance, he bought me a pole to install at home. I could\ndance right where he could watch me and keep me under his thumb.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Exotic dancing was not a horrible\nexperience for me, but I knew my sexuality made him uncomfortable. When he was\nuncomfortable, he became angry \u2013 and, again, I loved that man and his smile. I\nwanted him to feel pleased and proud of me, so I gladly gave up anything that\nwould ever cross the boundaries he had.<\/p>\n\n\n\n We pulled into the car show, and I\ncould smell the food cooking. The aroma of barbecue hit me, and I thought to\nmyself how good it smelled. I was grinning ear to ear as we passed the fancy\ncars. Even though my foot was broken and I was on crutches, I was so eager to\nwalk around. <\/p>\n\n\n\n I was able to be out in public,\nand I did not have to worry about him messaging me, asking me when I would be\nhome. He was with me, so I would not get the silent treatment for a week in\nretaliation this public outing. Not this time, because today was perfect. I was\njust so ecstatic.<\/p>\n\n\n\n We parked next to one of his car-enthusiast\nbuddies who had brought his kids along that day. The kids were sweet and\ngreeted my son and I as we got out of the car. Finally, I was able to socialize\nwith others. It had been months since I was able to do so. I spent most of my\ntime gardening and communicating with people only online. <\/p>\n\n\n\n He was so charming and kind to\nall his friends. I thought maybe my friends and the clients I brought to the\nhouse were bad people because he was always so angry when I had an appointment\nscheduled or had made plans with a friend. The anger and rage always escalated\nwhen someone showed any amount of interest in associating with me. I remember\ngoing to have wine with a dear friend about four months before the car show and\nthe three-week-long fight that followed. I could not make that mistake again. I\nloved his smile, and I was not going to do anything to mess it up that time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I grabbed my crutches and began\nto walk along with him as we checked out the line of cars. Beautiful music was\nplaying, and I could not help but let out a small happy dance. It was the most\nperfect day, and I enjoyed how happy we all are. By the time we got to the end\nof the line of cars, and my hips start to ache. We turned around to head back\nto the car so I could get my folding chair and sit down to enjoy rest the\nseemingly perfect day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Midway through the car\nshow, Trina\u2019s boyfriend became enraged at her for trying to stand up for\nherself. It would be the day she realized that she was being abused.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n As we were walking back, one of\nhis friends approached me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Let me guess, another\nstupid woman driver broke her leg trying to drive a car?”<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n The comment hit me right in my\nchest. Not only was it a sexist comment, but he was questioning my intelligence\nand my ability to drive a car. I have had comments like that from many men, and\nit hurt to be degraded every day. I could drive pretty well, and I definitely am\nnot stupid. I may not know everything about cars, but I have so many other\naccomplishments.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I was stunned, so I looked at my boyfriend and said, “What did he just say?”<\/em> <\/p>\n\n\n\n His smile faded, and he shoved me\nforward.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “I just wanted to know if\nhe really said what I thought I heard.”<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n “Just go.”<\/em> He\nsaid to me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “Seriously?”<\/em> I\nsaid.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The next two minutes were such a blur.\nMy head swirled from the screaming about how I could not be taken anywhere, how\nI was too political \u2013 a \u2018feminazi,\u2019 as he said. According to him, I ruined\neverything. He became even more aggressive, asking me if I would feel better if\nhe \u2018smashed that guy\u2019s face in\u2019 as he angrily threw the chairs in the back of\nthe car.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “We’re leaving.”<\/em>\nHe said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n As we exited the parking lot, he hit the gas out of rage and screamed at me, saying that he wasn\u2019t sexist; they were not sexist. He added that nobody said I was stupid, but he was just enraged that I even dared to ask such a question or to question a man. The lecture continued; I should just take it and move on. He said that I should not let people bother me so easily. When I told him that I was not going to take that from anyone, he slammed on his breaks, launching my son and me forward in our seatbelts. Again, he threatened to assault that guy for me, something I had not requested to begin with. It was nothing I would ever want to happen, and his rage made my heart race.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The tears kept leaking from the\ncorners of my eyes. They would not stop. Nothing I did would please that man,\nand I knew at that moment I was being abused, mentally, emotionally, and physically.\nAnd I was letting it happen. This was my fault. I made myself a victim.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I let it happen for years. He\nisolated me from my friends and family to the point where the only connections\nI had were from my online business, the only source of income I was allowed to\nhave. I remember his marriage proposal. He told me that I did not deserve the\nring but asked me to marry him because he spent time with me every night. I was\nso embarrassed, but I was also desperate for his approval. When I put on the ring,\nI did it with a smile, holding back tears. I tried to convince myself that I\nwas worthy of his love and searched for an interesting way to announce our\nengagement despite knowing deep down that love was not there. He would never\nsee me as anything of value or worth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The thing is, I have always been\nworthy of love. He just never had any to give and would never match my energy\nor investment. My roses were bought at the gas station, and I spent five months\ngrowing a garden for him. I spent years shifting and changing myself to please\nhim, but not once did he work on his violent behaviors for me. I thought I\nfailed. I wanted his love so badly that I ripped myself apart just for an ounce\nof his positive attention.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And even though, when I think\nabout the car show, tears stream down my face. They are tears of freedom and learning\nfrom experience. The tears are happiness and sadness at the same time. They are\nalso tears of fear and release because I can finally be myself, without\nrepercussions or being ripped apart behind closed doors.<\/p>\n\n\n\n With each day that passes, I make\nnew memories. I know one day, the memories with him will not sting as badly as\nthey do today. From that relationship, I learned something about love and fear.\nAll the love I need is already within me, and I will never allow myself to be\nripped apart by an insecure person again. <\/p>\n\n\n\n I am whole, and I do not need\nanother half. I will surround myself with people who already feel complete on\ntheir own, so I will never again deplete myself trying to fix them or make them\nwhole. I will never let myself become a victim again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n *Name(s) have been changed \u2013 and in some cases omitted \u2013 to protect the identity of the survivor and others affected by the abuse.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n **If\nyou or someone you know is in an abusive relationship, there is help. You can\nvisit the Break the Silence website at <\/em>www.breakthesilencedv.org<\/em><\/a>, chat with one of our helpline advocates at\n855-287-1777, or send a private message through our Facebook page. For crisis\nservices, you can contact the National Domestic Violence Hotline at\n800-799-7233.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n ========<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n What\u2019s YOUR Raw Truth?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Sharing our stories can be incredibly\nempowering while also helping others connect with survivors who have similar\nexperiences. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n If you are inspired to share your story\nwith us, <\/em>submit\nhere<\/em><\/a>. You can choose to remain anonymous.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/breakthesilencedv.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/10\/shallow-focus-photo-of-people-riding-convertible-coupe-3200058-A.jpg\")
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