It’s Harder Said Than Done

Being in an abusive relationship is hard. At times it can make you feel brainwashed. You get told that you are loved in the beginning.

In my case, it started off great. He promised to never hurt me. But actions speak louder then words. He was sneaky about it, slowly started to control me. But made it feel like it was for my own safety, he did it in a way that made me feel protected.

Then things changed, the insults started, the bruises came next, and then for the last few months, it was sexual. He would insult me to make sure I wouldn’t leave, tearing down my self-esteem so that I would feel like nobody else would want me.

There were things about me that started to change with even realizing it; I became someone else. I became scared, weak, silent, emotionless, and helpless. I had to teach myself to be emotionally numb. If I was sad or mad around his family or friends, I would get yelled at later when no one was around. Why? Because people would start asking what was wrong. If I cried in front of him, he would shake me and yell. He said it made him feel “uncomfortable.” And if I was ever happy, I got accused of talking to a guy or cheating. At some point in the two years we were together, I learned to stop feeling.

He didn’t hit me right away; he started off hitting random things. I remember one night, we had gotten into an argument about something pointless. We were sitting in my car outside of his house. I wanted to go inside because he kept yelling and hitting things in my car, I was afraid and didn’t feel safe. He yelled at me and said “No because if you go inside my parents will ask what’s wrong.” But I went to get out of the car anyways. He grabbed me and wrapped his arms around me so that my arms were pinned to my sides. I moved back and forth trying to get him to let go, telling him he was hurting me and that he needed to let go. I tried telling him that if he didn’t let go, then I would leave. He eventually let go and I hurried up and got out of the car. He got out and slammed the door shut, he started kicking the fence and I went inside. I had always feared that it would get worse, but I never knew when it would.

One day we were at our friend's house, hanging out in the barn after school. We had gotten into a fight at school that day. When our friends left the barn to move a vehicle he made a comment to me; he was just trying to pick a fight. (That’s what he did, he would pick fights and then find a way to make it seem like it was my fault and that I was the one constantly fighting.) I walked out of the barn because I was mad and didn’t want to talk. I walked into the other barn which wasn’t far away, maybe 20 feet. I stood in that barn alone, thinking about what I should do. He walked in a few minutes later yelling at me saying that I always walked away during fights instead of dealing with it. I told him that I wanted to be alone, I wanted to cool off before I talked to him. He stormed off, but returned about 10 minutes later. He started walking towards me, but I told him to go. He didn't listen, I backed up every time he got closer. He had an angry look in his eyes, I had never seen him this mad. He started to push me, next thing I knew I was falling backwards. I tripped over 2 wooden stands that were stacked on top of each other. I landed on them on my back, and then fell to the ground. I tried getting up, but I couldn’t; my back wouldn’t let me. He started yelling at me more, insulting me, calling me a bitch because, “if I would have just talked to him then I wouldn’t be on the ground right now.” A couple minutes passed, my face was soaked with tears, I was so scared I couldn’t breathe. I had heard enough, so I got up and tried running to the door that was on my right. Before I reached the door he had his hand on it, I couldn’t get it opened. I tried to move his arm and he pinned me in the corner of the barn. He had an arm on each side, he kept getting in my face, yelling at me, making comments, asking if I was cheating on him. I ducked underneath his arm, opened the door and ran out for help. I wasn’t 2 steps outside the door, and he had grabbed me from behind. He wrapped his arms around me, picked me up, squeezing me till I couldn’t breathe, and then threw me to the ground. I screamed and cried for help, but no one came. The next day my back and ribs were completely covered in bruises. When I laid down I couldn’t breathe, when I stood up I couldn’t walk. I didn’t think that things could get worse, but they soon did.

By now you're probably thinking to yourselves, “why didn’t she just leave him?” Or “if she was so afraid, then why did she stay for 2 years?” Believe me, I tried to leave. That was the hardest part. The night I tried to leave him, he started to cry; he said he couldn’t live without me, he said he didn’t want to lose me to someone else. Of course after the way he had been treating me, I didn’t think anything he was saying was true. I knew he could live without me. He ran out of my house, and I thought that was the last that I would see of him. I went to my mom crying, telling her that I broke up with him. She asked me why, I broke down and told her everything. She had no idea what I was going through. It turns out he was behind my house cutting his wrist. My mom went out and gave him a lecture about why not to do that. I didn’t take him serious when he said he would kill himself, but at this point I believed him. I thought to myself, if he kills himself, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. I stayed with him so that he wouldn’t kill himself.

A couple months had passed; he got kicked out and needed a place to stay. We let him live with us. I had noticed that I no longer had feelings for him. I stopped loving him, and he was catching on. I didn’t want him to kill himself, but I didn’t love him anymore. We weren’t intimate anymore which made him mad. I would tell him no, and he wouldn’t care. I started waking up to him doing things to me or taking my clothes off. I would try to push him away and tell him to stop, but he didn’t stop. I felt weak and helpless. No one could hear me, I had tears running down my face, but that didn’t stop him. The sexual abuse was the hardest to handle. If I said “no, stop” he would show me that I didn’t have a choice. I’d get pinned down and forced to do it.

I finally opened up to a friend about what was going on. I showed up to work one day, I was a mess, we had just gotten into it before work. My friend asked me what was going on, he made me feel safe enough to talk about it. He helped me understand that I didn’t deserve what he was doing to me. I started to realize that if I stayed, he might kill me. After a couple months of talking to my friend, I finally worked up the courage to leave.

My mom was away one night, and I was trying to sleep because I had work in the morning. He wouldn’t leave me alone. So I stood up and told him I was going to go sleep on the couch. He started freaking out and followed me. I laid down on the couch and he stood above me yelling. I plugged my ears thinking it would work to ignore him. He sat on top of me so I couldn’t move and so that I had to listen. I was completely filled with anger, but at the same time I was terrified. I told him it was done, we were over. He looked shocked, and asked me what I meant. I said, “I’m leaving you, I’m done.” I told him I wasn’t going to let him treat me like dirt anymore. He got up off of me and I hurried up and sat up before he could pin me down again. He ran to the bedroom; he said he has a knife to his throat and that he was going to kill himself in three seconds. He started counting down, “3, 2, 1,” before I could move he came running back in. “You didn’t even move! You don’t care about me! I was going to kill myself!”

I said, “no you weren’t going to kill yourself, you just say that so I don’t leave. You can’t manipulate me anymore.” I stood up to go outside for some air and he grabbed my arm, yelling at me not to leave. I told him I was just going outside, but if he followed me I would get in my car and leave. Right after I walked out the door, he came out. I got in my car to leave and he jumped on the hood. I was scared for my life. I yelled at him to get off or I would call the police. He jumped off, got in his truck and chased after me. When I got to the end of the road I whipped a U-turn and headed to a nearby town. I hid there until 5 AM in a Casey's parking lot. The hardest thing I ever did was work up the courage to leave.