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PostSubject: Domestic Violence Personal Stories   Domestic Violence Personal Stories Icon_minitimeTue Oct 27, 2009 1:11 pm

Domestic Violence Personal Stories

My name is Linda and I started having a bad life at 18. I met what I thought was a wonderful man. He was one of my bosses from work. He was so kind to me at fist. We would spend lovely times together just having fun. I seemed important to him; at least I thought I was.

After we were dating for about 2.5 months I found out I was pregnant and I wanted no more children. I already had a son and I was too young for him but another would have been havoc. So I told Joe that I wanted to terminate the pregnancy and that is when it all started.

He kept me home and fired me from my job. For the 1st time he hit me right across the face because I said I was leaving him. He dragged me into the dept. store and said we are going shopping so stop crying like a baby. He acted like it was nothing and I knew it was wrong but I did as I was told. I was 18 and he was 31. I thought an older man would be better for me but I was wrong!

The hitting became beatings almost every day. Even though I was pregnant, he did not care. He said, "If you were a good girl I wouldn't have to discipline you so much." I hated hearing that. Be a good girl- that was screwed up ya' know?

I had my daughter and I thought it would help us but it didn't. It just meant that I was stuck with him. The black eyes and busted lips and bruised body was all I knew and he was taking my heart too. I was no longer living near my parents and I was forbidden to have friends or should I say a life?

Two years later I became pregnant and I was not at all happy with that. But of course I had to stay pregnant. It cooled him down a little and he always said he was sorry. I hated my life and I wanted it to end but I had children whom I loved and I couldn't leave them. That is what keeps me alive. I tried to get help from my dad but he said THAT I MADE MY BED NOW - lay in it!! That hurt so much because I thought daddies were there to help when you needed them most.

My father was angry with me because I had children and he said it was my fault I put myself in that type of position. My mom couldn't even help me she could barely take care of herself. So as my pregnancy progressed he was a little nicer to me- we had twins now. That was the worse news to me. I kept thinking how am I going to leave with 4 kids.

I paid for a tubal ligation so I couldn't have any more children with him. I started saving a dollar here and a dollar there so I could escape my hell with my children. I remember one day that I told him I hated him with every bone in my body. He hit me so hard I went flying at least 10 feet across the bed and onto the floor. Blood dripping from my mouth, I just smiled and said, "Are you done?" I was so tired of him hitting me and controlling me as a person that I had had enough!

He started hitting me some more and I didn't back down. He finally walked away. The days went by and I would get hit because I didn't vacuum first then dust. The house was not clean enough or there was a fork in the sink I would get slapped again. He made excuses to hit me. So I bided my time till I could leave.

A few years later I was going to be gone within a few months then I found out I was pregnant again. I was floored because I paid to be fixed. Well I was that 1% that could get pregnant. So I stayed until my last child was 1 and a 1/2 and I packed my things and left.

I left the children behind because I couldn't care for 5 children. I took the oldest child with me because he was mine and not his. I became a stripper to care for my son and we did fine and I thought I would finally be free of violence. I loved my new life of no more long sleeved shirts or pants to cover the bruises.

Then I met James and he swore he would never hit me and he didn't for 1 1/2 years. Then one day I was out riding my bike and I pulled into the front yard and he was yelling and all of a sudden I fell down. He had hit me in the face so hard I had lost my balance. I still do not know why he hit me that day he never told me.

I stayed with him for a few more months hoping it was a mistake and it would never happen again. But I was wrong again. I let him move in with me in hopes of a good relationship. It did not last long.

One night I went out with my friends like I always did on Fridays and when I got home he yelled and screamed at me for being out while he was working. I basically told him he needed to leave because it was not working out then he hit me across the face a couple of times. I got up and ran for the phone to call for help. He pulled it out of the wall. He kept saying why are you making me do this to you? He grabbed my hair and was dragging me into the bedroom and I knew what that meant from experience I began to scream for help.

My son heard me and I hollered to him to get the neighbors and he did. He saved my life. James was arrested and given 1.5 years and no contact. I moved after that. We were over and I was over with men at least I thought I was.

Then one day my friend introduced me to a handsome sweet intelligent man and I fell for him hard. I was tired of being put down and bruised but my girlfriend assured me that he was good. She lied! He was worse than the other two put together. It was pure hell and I didn't realize what pain really was till I was with Jeff. He hit me every day even if he woke up in a good mood. I hated life and everyone in it. I thought that this is how my life was meant to be so I stayed for 6.5 years till I couldn't take it no more.

He would call my job all of the time and make me bring home a register receipt to prove what time I left. He held a gun to my head and said, If you want to die, let's do it." He would hit me in the face all of the time. Everyone at my job knew he was mean but no one would help me. Finally after he broke my windshield for the 3rd time I left and moved 20 minutes away and transferred to another store. He found me once again.

He called us all hours of the night yelling nasty things to myself and my roommate. He threatened her a lot and finally after 6 months of calls I finally agreed to see him in hopes of it being the last time. I was hoping that he had realized that after 6.5 years of hate he would finally end it and be civil. I wanted him to go on with his life so I could without him. I wanted to stop looking over my shoulder and my dreams would stop keeping me up at night. I wanted sleep again. I wanted to smile again. I wanted to be ME again.

He invited me to his birthday party so I figured I would be safe. I was so tired from working 18 hours straight but I made it to the party and there was other people there so I was ok with it. He was drinking and taking Librium pills the next door neighbor got him. I should have known to leave but I didn't.

I fell asleep on the couch and I awakened to him standing over me just looking at me in a confused look. I asked him what he was doing and he grabbed my throat and said, "you think you can just walk away from me. No you can't." I froze for a moment because I had this strange feeling rush over me and I can't completely describe it but it was scary. I knew then if I didn't get away from him I would die! I knew it and I didn't know how but I was terrified beyond belief. I pushed him off and ran for the door. He got up and chased me and it started a fight because I was determined to win this one. He grabbed my hair and pulled and yanked it hurt so bad that I could barely stand the pain. I wrapped my arms around the railing of the outside steps and held on for life. My arms began to bleed from scraping the wood rail back and forth but I held on.

He finally got me loose and I fell to the top step with my face down hoping to pass out. I knew I had to stay alive and that meant staying awake. He grabbed my head and began pounding it into the top step. It hurt and all I could do was cry and fight back. I saw blood dripping onto the step and I knew I had to be bleeding from my face now. It was a mess all over the steps. He yanked me up and I dropped to the steps again and he kept telling me to get up and get inside and I kept yelling for help. No one listened. He grabbed my hair and dragged me inside and I grabbed the doorway in hopes of tiring him out because I was tired. I dug my nails into the wood frame around the door making my fingers bleed and nails breaking from the pressure I could no longer hold on. I was now inside and he picked me up and threw me up against the wall calmly talking to me saying that we were soul mates and we had to be together. He said that our lives, especially his, was not going to be wasted by me. I owed him and I say I owed him nothing! We fought some more hitting each other profusely not taking a breath. I pushed him away and he fell over the end table he looked up and then unscrewed the table and came at me again and caught me right across the nose. I felt dizzy and out of it.

I remember saying to myself if there is a God, please help me. I will never doubt Your existence again. I never believed in God until that night. Jeff kept hitting me and made me walk the house with him. Finally I had him convinced that we would marry tomorrow. He stopped. He brought me into the kitchen to wipe my face off because he said I was a mess. He told me to go shower and change into some of his pajamas and we would watch our favorite movie. I agreed. I rushed upstairs and got into the shower and cried so hard it hurt. I looked down at the water and it was red all red. That's all I could see and I cried even more. My face hurt so much that I couldn't bring myself to look at it. I got out of the shower and dried off quickly and ran down stairs. He laid on the couch babbling about how I made him do that to me. He made me make a promise to be good and to marry him. I was to obey him forever and we would never be apart again.

I waited for him to fall asleep. It was midnight so that meant we had been fighting for 1 hour. I was so tired and dizzy but all I could think of was getting out. I waited for him to snore so I would know he was asleep. I went to the back door and unlocked the first lock 2 more to go. I waited a little while longer and opened another then another then I ran out the door as quickly as I could run. I ran down the steps and didn't look back. My feet were bleeding from running down the rocky driveway. All I could think was getting help.

I ran across the street to a neighbor's house it was 3:30 in the morning. I tapped on his window and begged for him to let me in. He opened the door and let me in we called the police and it was now over for me and him. I thank the Davidson county police of Tennessee for all their help. I get to live again. I am now 36 years older and am finally happy. I forgot what it was like to breathe on my own again. I haven't seen Jeff in 3 years and I keep track of him. He is still in jail and I have found someone who is the best thing in my life besides my children. 3 times is a charm - no the 4th is!!!!

"There's no place like home"
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Last edited by Mia on Tue Oct 27, 2009 1:19 pm; edited 1 time in total
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PostSubject: Re: Domestic Violence Personal Stories   Domestic Violence Personal Stories Icon_minitimeTue Oct 27, 2009 1:18 pm

The Reclamation of Me Before I: A Reminiscent Truth of a Destructive Past
By Lynnesha

I was 16 when he stole from me. Stole my virginity, my dignity, and my
self-esteem. I want it back.

I met him on the internet. A newly-turned 16, I knew that my mom would not approve of me talking to boys that were over 18 in person, but online, as I thought, was different. He said such sweet things. I met him offline two weeks later, and he looked normal enough, with big, pink lips and a kind, welcoming smile. We dated for three months before he told me he loved me as he took my innocence. I knew that I was in love. Just knew it. It felt so right; I was happy beyond measure, and even though my parents had a bad feeling about him, they didn’t know him as well as I did. I was the one that he loved.

Then he hit me.

HE punched me with closed fists in my face, my stomach, and one day even gave me a black eye. He told me I was ugly, stupid, fat, and that he is the only one that is stupid enough to have any emotion towards me, so I became a bulimic “cutter”. After he hit me, he would kiss me on the
forehead and apologize, and I would forgive him. Then he would bruise my
face again. I didn’t drive, so the three hour journey by public
transportation came with confused stares; the other passengers watched me cry as tears and blood rolled down my cheeks.

I left him eight months later.
I was 18 when he stole from me.

I met HIM through a mutual friend. While I didn’t think that he was very
attractive, I thought that I should humor him and go out on a date. We had a great time, filled with laughter and jokes all night. Towards the end, I parked my car around Montebello Lake and we sat in the backseat to talk. He started to get closer and closer.

I told him no. I told him to stop. I told him to get off of me.

He held me down so strongly that I was afraid he’d break my arms. He told
me to shut up as I screamed, and told me that I wanted it, when I didn’t.
I was afraid that he’d hit me, so I stopped fighting back, and after he
was done I took him home.

I remained friends with him until we lost touch
I was 19 when he stole from me.

My best friend had casual sex with this guy who was 35. She was only 18.
One day her partner invited us to his place in the city for drinks, and
told me that he’d bring a guy for me. The GUY that was there when we’d
arrived was super unattractive, but told me that he worked full-time as a
stripper in a local club. We all sat around the television and drank, and
right before I became unconscious, my best friend and her partner left me
in the room with this guy I barely knew. As I started to black out, I can
remember his hands touching me, him smiling, and my eyes shutting.

He took advantage of me repeatedly while I was intoxicated.

I awoke to a painful, swollen vagina and my clothing ripped apart. My
breasts were red and had bite marks all around them. When I told my best
friend what happened, she laughed heartily and said “you shouldn’t have
gotten that drunk!”

She remained my best friend for two more years.
I am 21 and I want it back.

Every day they haunt me in some capacity, their memories clinging to my
being like lint to a black sweater. They befoul my relationships, my
sexual life, and most importantly, my self-esteem. I’m pissed off because
I want her back. The innocent, overly confident, happy girl that just
wanted to love and be loved is gone, and what’s left is her overly
sensitive, self-conscious sister. The three of THEM are out living normal
lives, free from the hurt and confusion that comes from being physically,
mentally and emotionally abused. They should pay, and I have already
planned my revenge. I will live a full and complete life, finding love,
getting married, and sharing my love with my children. I will educate
young women on the warning signs of domestic abuse. I will talk to those
that can relate and help me through the angst that the three of them have
put me through.

I will be a strong woman.

The little girl that has been taken away from me will be avenged by
preserving the little girl inside of young women in future generations.
That is what will not only make them go away, but that will bring her back
to me.

I will regain my sanity, my dignity, and ME.

"There's no place like home"
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