Survivor Story: My Abuser Assaulted Me in Front of His Friends
Written by: BTSADV Survivor
I was in an abusive relationship, and I don’t talk about it. It’s hard to talk about something you want to forget.
It started out so small that I can’t even remember how or when it happened. Here are a few things I do remember, all of which are separate incidents. I remember being pushed up against the wall and choked to the point of passing out while I am pregnant and waking up to him in tears acting so apologetic. I would scream – literally scream – for help in the apartment and try to get to the phone to call for help. Nobody came.
I remember going to a prenatal appointment, and the doctor started to do the ultrasound while making small talk. Then there was silence followed by the doctor putting a box of tissues on my bare stomach before telling me there was no heartbeat. They estimated that my baby was around 22 weeks. That’s a feeling I will never forget and is something that I’ve only told a handful of people.
I’ve had holes cut in all of my clothes. All of my belongings were either pawned or broken. We were constantly moving from apartment to apartment, even having to stay in a weekly arrangement. I was hit in the head and kicked in the chest at his friend’s house in front of his friends.
I wasn’t allowed to do anything or go anywhere without him. Everything I did was monitored and questioned. He accused me of cheating all the time. I’ve had objects thrown at me. I was kicked in the back and punched because I wanted to take a bath instead of a nap with him. This resulted in another miscarriage that I went through alone.
I’ve been pushed, punched, kicked, choked, and had my head shoved into the ground. I was told how worthless I am and threatened that if I left – because I tried many, many times – my family would pay for it. I was abused physically, mentally, emotionally, and financially.
One of the times, if not the last time, he was abusive, I remember hearing my son crying for him to get off of me. He blamed me for upsetting my son.
That was it; I was done. I’m out. I got us out. Ten years ago, I was in an abusive relationship, and I had enough. I was tired of blocking doors and windows with furniture because I was afraid he was going to actually follow through with one of his many threats. I was tired of always looking over my shoulder and tired of always being tired and afraid. I was maybe 3 or 4 months pregnant and took my five-year-old son and whatever would fit into a small Uhaul and left. I walked out of my apartment and away from the hell I was living.
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