I never talk much about my abuse or the specifics simply because it is too painful to re-live. Although that doesn’t really matter much when you are re-victimized on a daily basis for standing alongside other battered mothers that are in my position. The countless mothers that I have spoken to over the years and listening to their heartaches was bad enough for my mental health but now being attacked by others who allegedly have the same goals is simply too much. I think thought it’s high time to shift gears and allow those that think they may know me and show them what I am and what depths of hell that I have been through. I’ll start with the event that took place in late 1997 at the hands of my second abuser. I will no longer be silent and I have risen above my pain. For this is why I am who I am and why I tirelessly help others that share this heartache and nightmare.
It was after my divorce and during a lengthy custody battle where I met the second abusive man in my life. During this time I found myself pregnant with this man’s child. He didn’t treat me bad in the beginning but then again if he would have punched me in the face during our first date I can venture to say there would not have been a second one. Abusers don’t operate that way, there is a process a “grooming” process of wearing you down and making sure that your defenses are low.
I was homeless, my children were being ripped from my life and I found myself living with a man that I should have listened to all the red flags, I didn’t. The year was 1997 and the month must have been between November and December as I was five months pregnant. I was twenty-nine years old and the pregnancy, my fourth child, was very wearing on me. I am sure the ongoing verbal abuse from my abuser wasn’t helpful. Not to mention the ongoing divorce/custody battle for my three older daughters. I remember being exhausted and went to bed early that night. I knew that my abuser was angry about it but I was just too tired to listen anymore and went to bed. Sleep came easily and I remember that my sleep was the type that was deep and restful.
I am sure it was a divine intervention to which I received my deep slumber as the following events would change my life forever. My eyes slit open as I could feel the sun peeking through the bedroom window. But something was strange; I couldn’t stretch or move my arms. I opened my eyes to find my abuser and the father of my child standing at the foot of the bed. He was laughing. I finally could open my eyes fully and forced myself to be wake up. I looked at him and his face seemed different, his laugh was not the same, I knew I was in trouble as my heart began beating out of my chest. I looked up and found that my wrists were tied with a yellow nylon rope to the headboard. Strangely my legs were free, for now. His laughter became louder as I tried to wiggle my wrists free but the more I tried the more pain came on my wrist from the nylon rope intertwining with other fibers of nylon making it tighter. I asked him what the hell he was doing. He couldn’t stop laughing. I became angry and yelled that he needed to untie me now! That’s when the laughter stopped. I knew that when he was in the mood to fight this was the way he started it. He came near my head and whispered in my ear as evil as you can imagine that he was coming for what he was “denied” last night. My heart jumped as I knew something bad was going to happen to me and there was nothing I was going to be able to do about it. He lifted me under my ribs and flipped me from my side and over onto my stomach. I told him that he was hurting me and the baby. He said nothing. I begged him to allow me to lie on my back but he ignored every plea. Nothing. He grabbed the back top of my pajama pants and ripped them straight down the back. I began to cry and tried to plead with him to stop. Again, no response. He was now naked and on top of my back as he pushed my face deep in the pillow to muffle my sobbing and screaming. Finally, he spoke as he told me that if I was quiet he would untie me. I quickly acquiesced and became silent and to be as still as I could be lying on my pregnant stomach. Then he started laughing again. He loved this torture; he was in control of my physical body and now my brain. I couldn’t see him but only hear and feel the weight on my pregnant body. I will skip some of the dirty little details of what transpired next. But I will tell you that it was almost immediately after I obeyed his directives that I saw white and felt searing pain, my baby was moving as I could feel her moving slightly under the pressure. I screamed in pain but it only made it worse as he loved to hear my screams of pain. I couldn’t believe that I was being sodomized by a man who allegedly loved me with his baby inside of me. After what seemed like forever he finally stopped and walked out of the room. My body was in so much pain I feared that my baby would die from the pressure and trauma to my insides. I knew I was bleeding as felt it run down my thighs. I began to weep silently so he couldn’t hear me. I was still tied with the rope and my wrists were on fire from the friction. I hoped that he was done and that he would leave me alone, I was wrong. It was almost immediately after I thought that when he returned. I glanced at him through my tears and noticed he had a video camera. My torture was far from over. For hours I was raped and sodomized by the father of the child in my womb and now it was being captured on video. My heart sank as my humanity was taken with every abuse. I was scared for my baby. I didn’t know if we were going to make it. He finally left me alone as the afternoon began to wane. Alone and still tied up. I laid there in my blood clutching the headboard to ease the pain on my wrists. This was the beginning of the end of who I was and forever more I would be changed. He came back and I winced when I saw him. He had a small smile on his face of success. Success in breaking me but not my spirit. That’s when the yelling began, the name calling, the total degradation. He got even angrier when he was finally trying to un-tie me as it was “my” fault that he couldn’t get the rope un-tangled due to my constant movement. Once free, he ordered me out of bed and to clean up “my” mess. I could barely move. My hands were numb and my legs were weak. I didn’t look him in the eye I could only just focus on getting feeling back into my extremities. I complied with his orders and tried to get dressed but he ripped my clothes from my hands and demanded that I clean his bed up first. I had to listen to him, what more could I do? I was scared he would rape me again. I took the sheets off the bed as I was sobbing silently as I walked past him to the laundry room. He followed me and continued on watching me and criticizing the amount of detergent I used to the way I put the sheets in the washer. He warned me that they had better not be ruined. I hurriedly put the water on cold and set the washer on maximum as I hoped that the blood would be removed. He was finally he was bored with me and left me alone. I found some clean clothes and tried to head for the shower. He was back spitting in my face as he told me that a “whore like me” wasn’t allowed to use his bathroom. He told me that I had to go bathe in the lake across from his house. My head was bent low. My whole body was just waiting for him to strike again and I knew he could sense my fear and he loved every minute of it.
With him in control he ordered me to get dressed and to get dinner started. I complied and said nothing in fear for any retaliation that he may perceive as defiance. My heart was broken but if I had only known this was only the beginning of my torture I would have ran out that door as fast as I could. But I was trapped. Trapped by the fear of being homeless, penniless and pregnant. I had no family or friends that would help, the other abuser made sure of that. It was one of the lowest points of my life. I tried to make this abuser stop abusing me. I loved him and wanted him to be happy for the baby. Nothing worked as everything I did was wrong and everything bad that happened to him was my fault (actually still is after all these years).
I can look back now and obviously write about this trauma with strength and courage as I know he can never hurt me again. There was no reason to do the things he had done to me through the years and then to our child. He is sadistic man with a severe, untreated mental illness. I would hope that others out there reading this and are in a relationship with someone like this. Run, don’t walk. Leave while you can. You cannot change an abuser and you will get hurt or even kiled.
I am happy to report that in this year, 2013, I am very happily married to the man of my dreams. A real man that doesn’t hit screams, call me names or rape me. My husband knew full well how much baggage I had when I met him. But rather than pushing aside this baggage he helped me to unpack it and I did. I can say that I have been abuse free since 2005. I took away the one thing that my abuser wanted so badly and that was power and control. I took it back, my life, my body, my sanity, forevermore.