I don't really like to talk about my past much. It's the past and it can't be changed. But sometimes I need to tell a story. Maybe it will help someone else out who is reading this now or someday in the future. Maybe it will help someone else out who wants to understand but has never been through it themselves.
I mentioned before about believing in God and seeing too many bad things happen in the past. This is one of my few stories of abuse.
Right out of high school I started dating a man eight years older than myself. I've always liked older men, even to this day, so no problems there. He had a temper though. So did my father so I thought that was normal. I cried in front of him a few times, at first it was alright but he never really touched or held me. After awhile when I cried he began grabbing me and holding me down to the floor. Even if I was standing he'd push on my back to push me down. I'd kick and scream for help. If someone is upset about anything and you hit them and pin them down, they become hysterical! You go from crying about something small to full fear. He was also verbally abusive towards me. That didn't end well ether.
He brought me to a psychiatrist who prescribed several medications for my "outbusts." The meds where for bipolar and schizophrenic patients, high end stuff. I'm so embarrassed to say this doctor didn't see the real reason. Sometime later I randomly took myself off all the drugs. They were shocked I didn't have any withdrawals. Probably because I didn't need to be on them to begin with? The meds gave him and his family new excuses. They'd tell me strange things like certain moments or conversations never happened. Then blamed it on me being insane.
I admit, I'm probably not the most sane person. I don't think anyone is. But I don't think I'm that bad.
I prayed every night before I went to bed to God to save me. God never did.
I stayed with him because this was all I ever knew, I was 19. I didn't have that great of a family. I was afraid if I left then things would get worse. I waited to kill myself. After a year and half I learned if I didn't show any emotions, happy or sad, then I wouldn't get hit or held down. I learned if I didn't talk much other than "yes" or "no" then he wouldn't verbally abuse me. That and I began to talk to friends about what was going on. Friends was something I wasn't really allowed to have. No one wants to be in an relationship with a zombie. Plus if I was strong enough to start talking then that means others would find out.
He dumped me and told me he was fucking his co-worker instead. I was never so happy to be dumped and cheated on. I congratulated her, take my shit hole of the boyfriend and enjoy him. I was free!
I made new friends, dumped the shrink and moved on with my life.
However, the memory was programmed in me forever. I had people touch my back, where he would push down and I'd get upset. Ever if they were not hurting me, I had fear. I didn't cry in front of future boyfriends, instead in the bathroom with them outside asking me what was wrong. I feared showing emotion. I got scared when a male raised his voice. I knew what was next. This went on years and years, little by little it got better. I'm much more aware now. Even of those around me and the relationships they are in. I can pick up on abuse much better and know who to avoid.
My husband has a best friend he works with. He's a little annoying, but when you get most men together they are. Labour Day before last I went to his party. I don't really tell this story much because I feel maybe I was the one that did something wrong to cause this. Maybe I overreacted.
Everything was good but this friend drank a lot. Lets call him "Bob". We were in his living room. My husband was there too, also very drunk, I was the only one sober. Bob kept saying over and over again how I needed to have sex on his bed. I turned down the offer, because frankly that's disgusting and I had NO interest. But he kept saying it over and over again. I needed to fuck my husband on his bed. This was stupid I got up to leave and go back out to the deck where the rest of the party guests were. I wanted no part of this. Bob grabbed me. I told him "no" but then forced me to sit back down on his couch. Maybe this was a game to him. I tried to leave again, this time he had more force on me. Bob took my car keys and phone so I couldn't leave. I told him "no" again. The third time I screamed "NO" over and over again.
He pushed on my back and pinned me to the floor. All the memories and fear from my ex came forward and I freaked. Bob was hurting me and refused to let me go. I bite him and didn't let go. His screams were louder than my own. A guest from the party heard and came running to pull him off of me. I was so scared. I grabbed my things and ran out of there. I never forgave Bob. To this day whenever I see his face I immediately fear. And I fear for his wife and daughter too. If he did this to me then he's hurting them too. I drove home that day crying and shaking.
Tonight I learned Bob and his wife are expecting another child.
Thank you God for blessing them. Thank you God for giving me a dead baby. I really appreciate it. I'm sorry I'm not good enough. I'm sorry I don't smoke or do drugs. I'm sorry I have a house and don't live with my parents. Sorry I'm married. Sorry I'm not on welfare or food stamps (sorry SNAP card, don't want to offend anyone). Sorry I have a job. Sorry I have money saved to actually afford a child. Sorry I don't drink during my two week wait. Sorry I'm been taking prenatals for too long. Sorry for everything else I must of fucked up on to deserve a baby without a heartbeat. Again I appreciate the surgeries, they are a blast.
I wish there was a God. I wish I could pray to someone and expect all my hurts to go away and dreams to come true. There is no such thing though. Only one can help themselves. Not God, or Narwhals or lucky unicorn poop and can help you.
I like hippies. They just give out happiness and expect nothing back. I'd totally be one of those if I was alive in the 60's or 70's. Smoking pot all the time, wearing tie dye and living out of a Volkswagon. Instead I'm a modern hippy who takes herbal drugs, buys organic food, uses reusable shopping bags, and drives a VW Beetle. You can't really live out of that. Plus I'm not sure how to keep my organic vegtables cold in there.
I'm going to put my tie dye shirt on and pray to the Narwhals. And maybe enroll in some self defense classes.
Dear Narwhals, please bring me my own healthy baby. You already know the address of my uterus.