My Story: Years of Abuse

When I tell my story most don’t believe it. That “such a strong, positive woman” went through all that and made it out the other side. I assure you, it’s real. It changed my life forever.

It all started in March 2013. I was talking online to a great guy. We had so much in common. He was a great dad who was fighting so hard for his kids. He wanted the same things I wanted. He loved talking to me and wanted to meet quickly. He was the person I wanted for so long and wished I had had in my first marriage. We met, he swept me off my feet, was amazing with my kids, and was perfect in every way. There were no red flags. Or at least, none that I couldn’t live with. No one is absolutely perfect right?

We had a whirlwind dating/engagement period before we were married. We went from dating to married in 3 months time. But I was sure he was the one. He had to be, because he told me he was there to save me a d take care of me. I quit my job, moved two states away with him where I had no family, and became a stay at home mome because that is what he wanted for me, but really what I wanted for me, right? At least, that’s what he convinced me of. That I wanted it. So I stayed home. In an unfamiliar place, knowing no one but his family and a handful if his friends who had a long history with him. I’m an introvert, so this wasn’t awful. At first. Soon I felt like a stranger around him and his family and friends. Outsider looking in. I had no friends of my own, no social network, and no family. I felt alone but that was normal. I’d make friends. We would see my family. It would be fine. I needn’t worry about such silly things. I trusted he was right. He was my husband after all. I loved him and he loved me. I just needed to change how I felt. Be positive.

His ex wife tried to warn me. I wish I had listened. Instead I stood up for him, called her names, treated her horribly, and was acted so out of character for myself. She was the crazy one, after all. He had shown me texts from her, begging for him back. Desperate. Only later would I realize it was the effect if his trauma bond. And abuse. At the time, he convinced me she was crazy and trying to take his kids from him. Only later would I realize she wasn’t trying to take the kids, but protect them from him.

Soon the fighting began. I remember our first argument. It was so silly and turned into such a nasty fight. I told him the sheets he was folding were queen size and belonged on our bed, not twin size like he thought. I laughed, saying it was funny to see him so sure when u was positive they were queen size because I had washed then that day. He got upset and started yelling at me. Told me that I was mistaken and stupid to think they were queen size. He held them out between his arms to show me they couldn’t be queen if he could stretch them between his arms. Threw them on the ground and said he was getting his tape measure to prove me wrong. Screamed in my face telling me I was wrong and needed to admit it. I told him I’d show him. Put them on the bed. They’d fit. He got angrier. Punched the wall. Said I needed to drop it. I was naive and didn’t know not to provoke him so I walked into the bedroom and put them on the bed. “There” I said. “They fit. I told you”. Wrong thing to say. He ran into the room and knocked me down on the bed, screaming in my face that I better not make him look stupid. They were just sheets and I didn’t need to try and prove him wrong. I better not make a fool of him again. My head was spinning, mind reeling. How did a simple, playful argument turn into this? It was my fault. I shouldn’t have upset him. I shouldn’t have proved him wrong. I’d do better.

More red flags turned up that I ignored. I didn’t need a job or friends or family. I was busy raising kids and helping him get his back. That was most important and I mustn’t forget that. I had to ask to make simple purchases. He made rhe money, so he was in charge. I was in charge of paying bills. Nothing more. I needed to stop having constant contact with my sister. He treated his kids so much better than my own. I was lazy, stupid, and needed to make sure he had a hot meal, clean house, and sex if he wanted it every day when he came home. He worked hard so he could have a wife that waited on him hand and foot.

Then the physical abuse started with my kids. He’d beat them with a belt til they couldn’t sit. Spank them so hard with his hands their were bruises on their bums for weeks. Force feed them if they didn’t like the food. If they vomited it back up, he’d make them eat their vomit. He fashioned a wooden paddle he used to spank them any time he thought they were out of line. They had to pull down pants and underwear and touch their toes. Of they cried while he spanked, they got another. Men and boys don’t cry. He’d hold then under water in the bathtub during a bath if they cried about water or soap in their eyes. If I tried to intervene or stop it he’d turn on me. I had to watch it happen and not say a word. When my son in first grade told his teacher what he’d done to him that morning and why he was so hurt, I covered for him with CPS. I was terrified that if I told them the truth they’d take my kids, just like he’d told me would happen if I ever reported it or told anyone. They wouldn’t believe me anyway and would take my kids in the off chance someone did believe me. I sat and watched, numb, as he put the fear of God in my son for telling his teacher the truth. That he’d be taken from us if he ever said anything like that again and lied. I knew then that what I was going through was wrong. But I depended on him. I couldn’t do this on my own. I wasn’t smart enough or capable. I needed him.

I almost was raped by a guy my husband hired. I called my husband first, scared and traumatized, not knowing what to do. Instead of the support and loving understanding I was somehow expecting, I was met with criticism, anger, and told I had to call the police, not him. What was he gonna do? He’d call the police for me since I was too dumb to think of that. I had to make my statement to the police, and know that he could bail out and be back if he wanted to. Restraining order or not. My husband wasn’t going to be back home for hours. I didn’t want to be alone. My husband came home and instantly blamed me for the attempted rape because of what I was wearing. I looked “too nice” and it was no wonder he tried what he did. I guess, it was my fault then. I wanted to go to the hearing to see him be sentenced. I asked my husband to go with me. Support me. He refused. I didn’t need that for closure. I didn’t need to write a statement or talk to the judge. I just needed to let it go. I was being dramatic.

I got pregnant, a year after we lost our baby at 15 weeks. I was happy yet cautious due to the events of the last time. When I told him the good news I was met with, “don’t get your hopes up. You could lose this one too. Better not get attached or think a baby will be the result.” My heart dropped. He was right. I could lose it too. I shouldn’t get attached.

6 months went by, and I was still growing a healthy baby. The public bone separation had started, causing much pain to move around. I wasn’t able to get as much done around the house. I was chasing small kids and running them to school, activities, etc. And exhausted from pregnancy and pain. He walked in, mad. My heart started racing. What had I done now? Why couldn’t I just make him happy? What could I do to change it before he got even more upset? I was making dinner, it would be ready soon. Surely that would make him happy. I was wrong. He came in and started screaming in my face about the messy house. I hadn’t done anything all day and it wasn’t fair to him who worked so hard. He threw everything off the bar and onto the floor. Threw things from the table onto the floor in an angry outburst. Dragged the outside trash can inside to clean up my mess. “Let me just quickly pick this up” I thought. Surely then he will calm down. I was on my hands and knees picking up the trash he’d dumped out and the mail and other paperwork he’d thrown when he wheeled the outside trash can right in front of me. He got down in my face and screamed at me how inwas stupid and lazy and he now had to do my job too. He was tired of living in a messy house. Being pregnant and in pain wasn’t an excuse. I needed to do my job. He married me thinking I was someone else that I apparently wasn’t. I was in a full blown panic attack. Couldn’t breathe, crying, body shaking, blurry vision, fog in my brain. Then came the contractions. Hard ones. I got scared. I couldn’t lose this baby too. I told him what was happening. That I was scared. He screamed in my face I needed to stop overreacting and if this baby died too he’d never forgive me because I killed the last one too.y kids were hiding in a corner crying. Trying to escape his wrath. He turned on them too. Yanked them by the hair and shoved their faces down into the mess. Told them they needed to clean it up and if it wasn’t he’d beat them more.

This went on for years. I ahd our baby thinking it would soften him some. It didn’t. I had the baby at an inconvenient time for him. It was my fault he couldn’t go to on his business trip he had planned. Could I just hurry up a d have him? He needed to get on the road. He was home 1 day before he left for 2 weeks. I was recovering from birth and adjusting to life with a newborn all by myself.

I withdrew from everyone. Depressed and broken. Feeling trapped and hopeless in my life. When did this happen? How did this happen? I didn’t use to be this person. I was fun and happy. Confident in my abilities. Great student and eager to learn. A good mom. Now I felt like a shell. Someone I didn’t recognize in the mirror. But I ahd to pretend. People couldn’t know incase having marriage troubles. It was my second marriage and I couldn’t fail again. So to everyone else I loved my husband and things were great.
October 11th, 2017, he came from hunting and declared he was divorcing me. I broke down. This could not be happening. Not again. What did I do? We argued, he told me everything he hated about me. I begged him to reconsider. I’d change. He called pur church bishop over to “mediate”. It was just really as a humiliation thing for me. For someone to witness “how crazy” I’d gotten and was being. This was why he had no choice but divorce me. He took his things and left. The lowest point I’ve ever been in my life was when I was on my hands and knees. Begging him to stay. Clinging at his legs to make him stop. Telling him I couldn’t do it on my own. He left anyway. Took all our money and put it in a separate account. I and tonask for money for food and bills. he left me with a car that barely ran and was unsafe to transport kids in. He didn’t care. I had a car and was lucky he’d left it for me. I lived in a house that was 100 degrees inside because I couldn’t afford to replace the AC unit. It was not his fault. I just needed to go to the basement where it was cooler. He wasn’t paying to replace it. We were selling the house anyway.

I spent the next year being yanked back and forth on the emotional Rollercoaster he put me on. He was cheating on me but he’d leave her if I made changes. I made changes. He added more changes. I made more changes. He just couldn’t live with me. I needed to let him go.Nevermore, hed give it a chance but first, more changes. I did this to us. I had ti fix it.

I was in counseling and my counselor told me to look up gaslighting and narcissism. I did. I was shocked. It was as if I was reading my own experiences. How could they know that’s what I was dealing with? There were others too? I couldn’t believe it. That’s when I knew I had to cut ties. We shared a son, but I had to stop this emotional abuse and now. I cut my kids off from him. I withdrew and stopped jumping at his every whim. Slowly, slowly, I started to get back to the person I once was. I gained my confidence, got a job, worked hard to be the best mom to my kids, moved from where we lived as a married couple and made new friends. It’s been 4 years now and I’m still far from healed completely. He still tries hard to control me. Manipulate and intimidate. He uses our son as a pawn in his sick game. I now am desperately trying to protect my son form him. I’m now crazy ex wife 2. I may never truly escape him, but as I heal and do my best to move on, I can see the light come back tonmy life. Healing is possible. Painful and slow, but possible. My story is not so unlike others. You are heard and you matter.