My Fault

Domestic Violence Awareness Month is October. In October of every year, we become more “aware” of a problem that affects millions of people (men and women) across the nation. It may not be October, but a recent post on Facebook really set me off, along with issues in my personal life. This status post was one of those, “post if you’re against domestic violence” ones and a guy commented saying that if women weren’t such “sluts” they wouldn’t get mentally or physically abused. A fire that has been long suppressed raged in my heart and I wanted to set him straight. I wanted him to know the struggle of being in an abusive relationship. I wanted to take him, put him in my mind and make him experience the battle that I dealt with on a daily basis for five years. The battle that so many women have to fight because they’re stuck and they don’t know how to get out.
Since I wasn’t able to respond to him via Facebook, I decided to put my thoughts here. This post is going to be pretty emotional for me to write, it’s my personal experience and thoughts, so please bear with me and understand if it’s a little jumbled.
Growing up, my father made me feel like a constant failure. It wasn’t even “telling” me that I failed, but the way I was treated. I was always called a “freak” by him and he taught my younger sisters to mimic him. At first, it didn’t bother me, but over the years, I couldn’t laugh it off anymore. Especially during my teen years where depression loomed around every corner and my mind kept reminding me how “fat” I was at 100 lbs, the name calling cut me deep. Not to mention the physical spankings and slaps across the face or pushing down stairs. I could handle the physical though, it was the mental and emotional pain that hurt me most. I remember when the physical stopped and I started hurting myself because I thought that just yelling didn’t hurt me enough. I cut, I bruised myself with objects, I did everything I could to physically hurt as much as I hurt inside.
Finally I moved out, and made some really horrible life choices that I don’t regret because they gave me my daughter, but that I wish I had done differently. In the end, I had my beautiful daughter and a man who at first, I was only with because of lust. I can’t explain it, I’ll never be able to put it into words, but it was as though I was under a spell. Every time I tried to leave him, he’d manipulate me into coming back. He had complete control over me. Eventually, I fell in love (whether it was because he fathered my child or because I actually loved him, I still don’t know).
At this time, I still had a brand new baby who was under a year old. I started going through post partum depression and with my history of depression in my teen years, it made it extremely bad. I was crazy, bat shit crazy. So I started seeing a counselor and also got on some anti depressants. That’s when things went downhill. Actually, between us, I think it was always downhill, but this was definitely a sharp turn down the hill. We started fighting more, I felt controlled, alone, manipulated and I didn’t know how to change things. He felt like I was a nag, and that being a dad could be done at his convenience. The first time something happened was Cinco de Mayo. We went out with some ex coworkers of ours and had a few drinks. Things were going great…until another guy showed interest in me. I was pulled away so hard that bruises were left on my arms for weeks.
The bickering continued and I think if I hadn’t been so on edge from my medication, I would’ve handled things differently. But I was young, stupid, and didn’t do things the way I would now. There was a night when he threatened to kill himself because I was “trying to take his daughter away”. Which, yes, back then I tried to use her as a pawn which I would never do now (again, my immaturity). He got his gun, beer, and pipe and headed to the garage. I followed and had the gun pointed at me. A couple of months later, we got in another fight. He said he wanted to go out with some friends, which included a very pretty girl he had shown interest in. I didn’t want him to go since we were still mad at each other and I always had to stay at home with the baby. We got in a huge fight which ended in me getting choked by a broom and being spit on. I ended up leaving that night and going to the hospital due to the bruising and internal injuries. For some reason, I still don’t understand why, I went back.
In the midst of everything, I had resorted back to my childhood ways of coping. When I was being called names and told that I was worthless, I started cutting myself again. I took bottles of pain pills, hurt myself to feel the pain. I needed the physical pain to make me forget about the emotional.
It wasn’t because I was stupid, because I’m pretty smart. It wasn’t because I didn’t know any better, because I did. It was because he told me I wasn’t attractive, that no one would ever want me, especially with a kid or two. I was told that I could never make it on my own, I’d always need a man to help me out. He cut me down to the point where I felt worthless, like a failure. The feeling my father gave me my entire childhood was brought back, stronger. It wasn’t just that he said those things, it’s that I believed him.
Women who are abused are cut down to a sliver of who they once were. Men who abuse women don’t only abuse them physically, they abuse them mentally and emotionally as well. They are excellent manipulators and can tell a woman anything and she’ll believe it. It doesn’t happen overnight, it takes time, but when it happens, it’s over. She feels as though she has no power.
I am sick of people saying that it is the woman’s fault. That she needs to just leave if things are so bad. After every police report, hospital visit, or counseling appointment people close to me would say those types of things. Problem is, I had no one who was able to help me. I couldn’t afford to live on my own. I wasn’t willing to live in a shelter with two babies. I knew they were fine, and I knew I could take it. What made me finally leave was the moment my two year old daughter saw him pouring a bottle of soy sauce over my head, screaming at each other and her saying, “mommy daddy stop fighting”. My heart broke and I realized that I couldn’t allow my daughter to think this was healthy. I couldn’t allow my son to think it was ok to treat a woman that way. I had to set a better example for them. I found my strength in my children. Everyone else faded away. All the other lectures, opinions, thoughts that I’d been hearing for years were out the window. In the end, I didn’t leave for me. I had stayed for them and eventually, I left for them. I didn’t believe that I deserved better, THEY deserved better.