My Unbelievable Life
Domestic violence and physical abuse all started when I was 12. My father was addicted to cocaine and drank every day. He ruined my mom and broke her heart. She was a good woman to him, but he had an affair, and my mom eventually left him. Meanwhile, he was verbally abusive to my sister and me.
My sister started bringing men into the house when my parents weren't home; she made sex seem like it was nothing. When I was 12, my mom kicked me out the house after an argument. She told me to be on the street and "let myself get fucked," and I ended up having sex with my old neighbor, who was a grown man. I have regretted it ever since. He didn't even remember my name or anything. I was so stupid. I don't know why I did it.
Then I met my boyfriend who at the time was 17. Believe it or not, he was good to me. He was everything to me, but he also came from an abusive home. At the time he was homeless because his father had left, and his mother couldn't take care of him and his siblings on her own.
By the time I was 18, I had three kids. And yes, I got put down plenty as a result. I am now 21. The domestic abuse began when I had my first child. My boyfriend wanted to be with his friends, and I was stuck home taking care of our kids. Breathing problems hospitalized my daughter for almost half a year when she was born, and I eventually had to leave school because of her needs and her father's selflessness. He and I would argue, and those arguments often turned physical. The physical violence only got worse. After I had my first kid and still had stitches healing after just giving birth, he would get angry that I wouldn't have sex with him. He'd tell me if I didn't have sex with him I was probably having sex with someone else. So, I did it.
After having a sexual encounter with another person, I became pregnant with my second child while 15. The same day I found out I was pregnant I found out he had been sleeping with my sister’s best friend, and I felt destroyed. I felt worthless and had to go through my pregnancy depressed. I was too in love with him to leave. Things continued, and he kept restricting me at home all day to be out enjoying himself.
When I had my 3rd kid things took a turn for the worse. Our fights became more violent. One day I caught him talking to another girl, and I broke his phone because I was angry. He slammed the phone into my face and busted my nose. Then another time I was crying about how I felt hurt, and he punched me like I was a man and ultimately broke my jaw. I have lost count of how many black eyes, bruises, and busted lips I've had. Even when the police arrested him, I was so emotionally distraught. I kept taking him back. I didn't want to believe this was what had become of my life. I wanted him to fix everything and to treat me right because he was who I had a family with, and I didn't want my kids to have a broken home. He was the only person who was telling me they loved me, and I didn't understand anything about love anymore.
I began to see other men just to feel better about myself and to feel like someone cared. Even though those men didn't care either, in the end, I felt even worse because I knew I was now cheating too, and I made myself believe I deserved it. I justified him beating me and cheating on me. When he hit me, he beat me bad. He choked me punched me slapped me in my face pulled my hair dragged me kicked me and anything else you can think of he did it. He once beat me because I didn't let him get a car he wanted, he knocked me into a mirror and broke it and then made jokes about how I broke the mirror with my face.
The years went by and last year 2016 I began working at a hotel, which I'm still working at currently. My paramour started accusing me of cheating on him with another guy I worked with, but it wasn't accurate. I never did cheat on him with the guy. Moreover one night he broke down and admitted everything to me that he had done. He even told me he had been sleeping with my coworker who was a housekeeper. He said he might have a kid with another woman, and I just wanted to kill myself. Sometimes I still do. I broke down as well and told him I had cheated on him. He beat me and said I was a whore and that he will never trust me. Even though I wanted to leave, I was dependent on him for money and to help with the kids.
After some time passed, he asked me to forgive him and that he was going to change. Some things did change. He stopped going out, quit having social media, and stopped fighting with me. However, the hurt and neglect and emotional wounds still linger in my chest. I can feel it as I type this. Even though he has made a change, I don't think that I can honestly forgive him. Some days I feel happy and others I feel dark and depressed. I think of his words when he was angry. I ponder on how bad he put me down every time I found out he cheated on me, how he laughed at me and told me they were better than me. He apologized and said sorry for everything he ever did and said to me and that he was going to be a better man and marry me in the spring. But, I don't think I can do it.
We still live together. I am trying to get my life together and hopefully if God lets me move on with my life I will. I pray that God heals me and that he heals all of us that have been abused and heartbroken. I don't know if anyone will read this because it's long. If you read this, please pray for me. I hope I make it out alive and maybe one day God will show me real love, and I will not be abused again, and I will not be heartbroken. I am scared to love as I'm sure most girls are after something like this. But this is my reality.
Thanks for reading.