From the moment I met him I knew I loved him, it felt like I knew him for all time. It started small, flashes of anger then telling and breaking things. In between those moments of anger then breaking things. He is sweet, gentle kind caring. He said I was the most beautiful woman in the world and I deserve the best things in the world no one should ever do anything to hurt you.
The first time he hit me we had gone on a trip. We were both tired, and we were both irritatable and frustrated. Things were not going as planned. I know life rarely ever goes the way we expect it in all its perfection. We stopped to eat and refresh ourselves we got in an argument while waiting for our food I said I was just going to get some fresh air he followed me outside I told him I was tired and done with the fighting and turned my back to him. A big mistake a slap came from behind me around my left cheek my ear was ringing, and I was shocked. He struck me, but it hurt more because it hurt on the inside too and it made me think my aunt who was murdered by her boyfriend. She never thought he would hurt her. So, I went back to Colorado.
He soon came begging apologizing being so convincing that it would never happen again, but of course, it did. I started getting sicker too then I started making excuses. Well, he didn't mean to hit me that hard, or it wasn't that bad this time. He choked me out one day I had told him I was pregnant and he wasn't just hurting me anymore he said shut up you're a liar. I left and gave my daughter up for adoption. Still, somehow he convinced me it would be different, and it was at first.
He doesn't take disagreement well, so I found myself sitting on a curb crying because he body slammed me on the concrete. He picked me up apologizing, saying he didn't mean to do it. He took me home and nursed my injuries. And things were ok. I told myself just don't say this or don't talk about that. Until one day not long before our daughter would be two years old I found myself having to explain that I would never hurt a child, he had pulled me out of the house of a friend who was having a bbq by my hair. I wasn't sure if the girls had seen what happened. But they possibly heard him talking bad about me as I had left embarrassed from that. Sho, the girls, had told their mother it told them to shut up and stop singing. He called me before I got too far and said I had to come back and explain that I didn't say that to them (for fear of getting hurt by the mother next time I was around) wouldn't have happened. So that was the first time I told anyone he hit me or hurt me ever. I asked if the girls had seen him hit me or pick me up by my hair. Then the mother and grandmother of the girls went in on him dating they could see the fear I had of him as I spoke( I also knew there were consequences for my truthful statements) and admitted it was true.
A few days later same house around 1:00 a.m. I had just gotten off work and went to picked him up. Found out later he had another girlfriend who he had argued with before I got there. He was hostile and angry I asked what happened and if he was ok. His response was shut up and get in the car, so as I'm putting the key in the ignition, he's getting into the passenger side. He's messaging someone on Facebook. I saw he got madder, so I just swore he was not going to take it out on me. He turned and looked at me and said what took you so long to get here. I said it didn't I got here super fast. He answered "you're a dumb b!+€#" and punched me in the face a few times before jumping out of my car and pulling my key out of the ignition. Someone saw and heard and called the police. Law enforcement had a warrant or for his arrest.
Over the next two months, things got rapidly worse. I was bruised all over my legs and arms as he rarely hit me in my face. I had surgery to get sterilized through the removal of both fallopian tubes. I had surgery, and within two days he beat me so bad I ended up in the hospital. He fractured my face in a few places.
He still tries to explain he loves me; he will never hurt me again.... BUT THE REALITY IS HE WILL AND MORE THAN LIKELY HE WILL KILL ME.
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by Brooke S.
It is entirely accurate that domestic violence comes full circle. My relationship started out as a fairy tale when we were dating. But horrible secrets were hiding in the mist. See, there was domestic violence between my fiance's father and mother; fist holes in doors, broken dishes, and kitchen utensils in the yard. Deputies made well-checks, but since my fiance was a police officer, they would kindly leave even after the neighbors reported the violence.
My fiance's father had two affairs with illegal immigrants. His mother "forgave" him because he was Catholic or so she said. She later told us she was hoping he would just die and that she was encouraging him to overeat so he would have a stroke or heart attack. When his mother, my fiance, and I were on vacation together if her husband did not answer the phone when she called she started going on about him having an affair. The stress of these family vacations was enough to cause me to miscarriage while we were on one. Five years later, not a day passes that I don't think of my child, but I also thank God for taking them away from what happened afterward.
When we moved in together, the honeymoon period ended almost immediately. We fought. My future groom cost me the dream job I had wanted in the ICU because he was caught cheating and lying on the polygraph for the secret service, I had pulled my application after he told me he would get the post position. I ended up staying on a horrible department with an awful boss for four years. Though never convicted of the crime, my fiance lied about sleeping with an underage girl. The loss of my dream job killed me. Emotional and verbal abuse from my fiance destroyed me. Although we were engaged, girls were calling every day, sometimes until 0200 hours.
I tried to make it work. I did everything my fiance asked, except I would not brush his face and feet with his baby brush like his mother did for him -- that sounded too creepy for me, kind of Norman Bates. I cooked, cleaned, worked, and had a full course dinner on the table at midnight every night. I went to work 80 hours a week and managed everything while working on my BSN. He worked his 40 hours and ran up his credit card on computers and electronics. I worked to maintain the house and pay for the furniture. I applied for every tuition reimbursement and scholarship I could. I fought to make ends meet while his spending continued. I had to separate our accounts out because I went to pay bills and there was no money and our very little savings was gone. I fought my way through NP school. He was angry there were no dinners on the table, no clean house, no clean laundry. I was still working to pay my half the bills and my parents were paying for my car repairs and books. He was drowning in debt, and I barely kept afloat on my meager salary on my end. He was making double what I was but spending more than I was earning!
At one point, I had a conversation with my parents who saw what was going on. I told them it was he or they would never see me again. I gave them an ultimatum. They chose both. (I cry now when I think about how that made them feel). His resentment of me grew, he had to learn to cook, clean, and help with the laundry. The reality was killing the fairy tale. The fights increased, the hatred grew, and disillusionment was thick in the air. Emotional and mentally it was awful. I gained weight because of the stress of the miscarriage that he refused to deal with and then the pressure from grad school. I was 115 lbs when we were dating and weighed 205 pounds 7 years later. He called me "Phat, " but all I heard was FAT. He called me one night after a fight, and he had his service weapon in his lap and was going to shoot himself. He was at Rock Creek Park, and I talked him out of it, and he came home. We never discussed what caused the fight. Another time, we had a deputy show up in the middle of the night because he had posted on Facebook that he should just end it all. Of course, he told me after the deputy left that he had posted this on a second Facebook page that was only for people working with him. I told him to take it down immediately, but he was hiding a second page from me. I had taken a year off between my BSN and MSN for us to get married, but we never could agree on anything. My religion is not good enough for him because I am Methodist - we don't count, and only Catholics count. I finally gave up and went back to school which cost me a year of my life just waiting.
He had been in therapy since 7th grade. He had started with a new therapist in 2015. He and his parents went to see him. I had suggested us going together all the time, but he made excuses. I know now why, he blames everyone - me, his parents, his job - everything that is wrong with his life he blames on someone or something else. He is Naricistic, and others have suggested undiagnosed Bipolar (which takes 7-10 years to manifest itself). He doesn't want to change because nothing is wrong with him, everyone else needs to change. He feels entitled to everything too. He wants it given to him without working for it. I indulged him and bought him everything he wanted, did whatever he asked, and fed the behaviors. I never felt loved. I felt lonely even when I was laying next to him. I cried myself to sleep so many nights that it became routine. He blamed me because he hated his job. He blamed me for everything. I finally finished school and started making over six figures a year. He was $20k in debt due to therapy and his poor spending habits. I took on a majority of the bills hoping he would pay off his debt. It worsened.
I was working overtime on the weekends to pay for our dream wedding at Disney in May 2016. I asked him about proposing again - we had had a fight several years previously, and I had thrown my engagement ring at him. I had told him when he had grown up and matured that we would try again. He informed me that he had not proposed anew because he had sent nude photos of himself out on Facebook and email after we had fought a few months earlier. He crushed me, and here he was trying to push the ring back on my finger. All I could think about was this going full circle. His mother's hatred of his father and the affairs. If he felt he could get away with me forgiving him for this then what did the future hold? I did not want to end up in a marriage like his parents and in therapy for the rest of my life. (I have done treatment in the past and it works as long as you know something is wrong and you want to fix it. Remember he doesn't think anything is wrong).
The loss of respect for me, the loss of our child, his financial burden on me, and now this news crashed down on me like waves crashing down on rocks on the beach. The years of emotional abuse - no communication, no love, no physical touch, and neglect beat down. The years of financial abuse took their toll and beat down. The years of mental abuse - not feeling attractive, no support while in school, no help after the miscarriage, no assistance with the house, even my religion was not good enough for him, and finally, no support from anywhere took there toll. There was also sexual abuse - I did not understand that at the time where that was coming from, but another secret was looming under the surface.
Return to Ongoing DV Stories - The Domestic Violence Cycle.
by Child of God
(In the heavens)
I look in the mirror, and I see my chipped tooth. Every day I'm reminded of that night.
Forth of July, two days before our anniversary when he got drunk and took off in my car. Left me in a church parking lot in front of all these people with no shoes and 12 weeks pregnant.
I remember the anniversary before that when we got into an argument at a big park that was empty. Of course, he had been drinking that time too. And, he tackled me to the ground and slapped me so god damn hard my ear started ringing, and I went dizzy. So I fought him back.
Or the time we were in my car after he got into an argument with some family of mine, and I, being the idiot, defended him, and he punched me in my face and busted my lip up and bruised my jaw. Also pregnant, and of course being stupid, I came with him to his mother's house to stay because I was stupid and gave up everything I had to be with this disgusting piece of shit.
I know it sounds weak of me. But I have nothing left, and I feel like I have to use him to get on my own two feet right now. He's all I have now. Boy, what a fucking idiot I am. What a poor excuse for someone soon to be a mother. I have a plan to leave, but it takes time. Right now this is my only option. Just wanted to vent and get that off my chest. And how much I fucking hate him and can't wait until it's his turn.
Return to Ongoing DV Stories - The Domestic Violence Cycle.
I was in an abusive marriage that started out being emotional and then turned physical. I left, vowing to myself that I would rather be by myself than in a situation like that again. That was ten years ago. I'm afraid I'm right back in the same position, again.
I'm engaged, not married. We were supposed to get married last year, and I called it off after my fiance kicked my door in after locking him out. We have been together for almost five yrs and friends for two yrs before we even started dating. What's crazy is, I wasn't even very attracted to him and thought I should give him a chance since he was such a kind man. Not only that, a couple of friends wanted us to get together, for whatever reason.
I am now feeling so much worse and weak than I can remember feeling before. Maybe my current man is outstanding and way better than my ex-husband was at hiding his true colors. I guess I'm pretty sure he is emotionally abusive. I think he's also physical. The difference is this: he doesn't hit, beat or push me. He touches me to aggravate me. I ask him not to touch me, yet he does it anyway. When I have my limit and flip out, he states that he's playing. He has held me by my wrists against my will hard enough to leave bruises.
Tonight he stated by throwing a paper towel at me repeatedly. I tried to ignore him. He then threw soft coasters at my head, and, meanwhile, he keeps asking for me to give him these items back and I ignore him. He then threw his baseball cap at my head and this hurt. I took his hat and hid it in the closet. He then proceeded to throw everything that was only mine out of the closet to find his hat.
It's a wake-up call typing this. I have told my partner I want to break up and want him to leave, but he won't. I own this house, and his name is on nothing. I just can't seem to muster up the energy to call the police to make him leave. There is so much more to this no one knows, not even family. Why can't I reach out? I'm ashamed and embarrassed I'm here again...
Return to Ongoing DV Stories - The Domestic Violence Cycle.
Many years ago I had been seeing this bloke for a while, and I was head over heels with him however he didn't feel the same about me, and he ended the relationship. I was heartbroken, and his best friend allowed me to cry on his shoulder. He was there for me, and I thought he was a genuine friend. Our friendship continued for a few years where we would occasionally sleep with one another. He was charming, funny, a great dancer and great company. He made me feel special and wanted. In turn, I fell for him.
Before too long I realized we were in a relationship, and he asked me to move in. Things seemed to be going well, but one day I was housesitting for someone while they were away and he came to stay with me. He turned suddenly. He accused me that I was in a brothel and that I was a whore. I found the whole thing ludicrous. When I laughed this angered him more, and he punched me in my face, grabbed my hair and dragged me down the stairs. He kicked me, bit me, struck me, burnt me with a cigarette and refused to leave when I begged him to go. The abuse went on for three hours until he decided to call a taxi and leave. I was in absolute shocked and bolted the door and sat and cried.
The next day he rung me to apologize and said it was because I was twenty years younger causing him to get worried he wasn't enough for me. Stupidly I forgave him and went back to him.
It took a while for anything else to happen, but after three months it all happened again. We had been on a night out, and an old friend who was a girl came up to me. We swapped numbers as we decided to arrange a girly evening. My partner pinched my ass and shouted something in my ear, but because of the music, I couldn't hear him. I followed him outside to ask what was up, and he immediately shouted in my face that he didn't want me to have that girl's number. I didn't understand why so I questioned him. He got violent and slapped me across the face and threw me to the floor. He grabbed my phone to see who else might text me and then smashed my phone to the floor. He kicked me in the legs and stamped on me. He then picked me up and dragged me home. I went straight to bed in shock and could hear him in the next room arguing with himself. I was now terrified of what type of person he was.
A couple of nights later he had gone out and then came home with his mates. He entered into the bedroom and got me out of bed telling me to get up and entertain them. I said I was tired and wanted to sleep to which point he dragged me into the lounge by my hair and walloped me across the face. His friend tried to stick up for me but my ex-partner became angrier and accused me of sleeping with his mate, and he threw me out on the street in just my knickers, and a t-shirt at 4 am on a winter morning. I walked to a friend's house who told me to call the police, but I didn't want to. The next day I had the same apologies, and again I went back.
A month later he attacked me. We had been out on a night out, and he and his friends started taking the mickey out of one of their mates who was seeing this girl. My partner made a disgusting comment about her 'c**t' to which I said I didn't want my boyfriend saying things like that. When we were walking home, he turned on me saying I was jealous and evil. I said I had no need to be jealous but that I didn't like the words he had been saying. He grabbed the takeaway food we had and rubbed it in my face calling me a jealous old dog. Again I said I did not need to be jealous as I didn't even like the girl. At this, he flipped. Dragged me inside and beat me black and blue, held a knife to my throat, strangled me until I passed out, picked me up and raped me then beat me up again. He then wouldn't let me leave the flat for two days, and he sat by the front door holding the knife to stop me. A few days later he had to go to work, and I managed to get out. I packed a small bag of essentials, and my friend came and got me. She was horrified by my bruises and insisted that I call the police this time. The police came and took my statement, and even they were disgusted by my injuries and advised me I was one of the worst cases they had ever seen. They arrested him but I was still the victim, and he talked me into how sorry he was and how he would never do it again. I believed him, dropped the charges with the police and ran away to Spain with him.
Of course, the abuse didn't stop, and within four days I was covered in bruises. However now I was completely isolated from any friends and family. He has me just how he wanted me. Alone and dependant on him. For the next two years, the abuse got worse and worse. On a daily basis, I had verbal and emotional abuse. I was called a whore and a fat slag. He told me no one loved me and no one would ever want me. Gradually I believed him. I was so run down and lonely.
I had a work party do, and the hosts invited him. But, he nearly killed me that night. He picked up a table and smashed it over my head, hung me off the balcony, cut my wrists with razors, ripped up all my clothes and then fell asleep with his hands around my neck. I managed to get out of his grip and ran to my colleague's hotel room the next floor down. My bruising mortified them and my state the state of me shocked them. They patched me up and lent me clothes and offered me refuge but I was in a foreign country and thought I needed him to survive. So I went back to him.
The abuse continued for the next six months until I fell pregnant. My abusive partner was not happy at first and threatened 'to kick the creature' out of me. Many times he was violent, and I would lie and cradle my tummy hoping he would not harm my baby. Amazingly, my baby thrived, and when I eventually started showing at seven months he changed to the loving partner, and I stupidly thought this was the new him. On 17 June 2015, my beautiful boy was born by emergency c section. He was healthy and beautiful. I got home with my baby two days later and another two days later on my 30th birthday he beat me up and kicked me repeatedly in the stomach. He put a knife in the back of my head and hit me around my head with a metal bar while my son was in my arms.
I now knew I had to get away and back to the UK. But my son didn't have a passport. One night when my son was 11 weeks old, the abuse became the worse it had ever been, and I ended up being rescued by the Spanish police. I was put in a refuge for two weeks until the embassy gave me my son's emergency travel document and I flew back to the UK on 5th October 2015.
Unfortunately, my ex-partner followed me back, but I now have a non-molestation order out on him and a restraining order and a prohibited steps order. He is not allowed any contact with me or my son. He has breached the law and is now going to trial, so he may end up serving a sentence.
I am still scared when I walk in public, and there are places I avoid so that I do not see him. It has affected me in all sorts of ways but getting away from him was the best thing I ever did! I have mental scars and physical scars but most importantly my son won't be damaged by him, and won't have to witness such horrific abuse. I still worry and have been put off men. I can't even let my dad or brother hug me, but I'm hoping that one day this will change as well.