by Band Back Together | Feb 17, 2014 | Autism, Child Sexual Abuse, Coping With Domestic Abuse, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Domestic Abuse, How To Cope With A Suicide, Incarceration, Murder, Suicide |
I don’t know where to begin. Too much has happened in my life, it even seems unreal to me at times. My coping mechanisms are different than most people because I have Dissociative Identity Disorder, or DID for short. I will try to be as clear as I can about the events while protecting myself from the grief.
The first trauma – I was sexually abused by an older brother from ages of 5 until 9. That is when my DID began. When I was 9 years old, my mom committed suicide. Her suicide had 2 lasting effects on my life- 1st, it sent my abuser away to live in another state and 2nd, it formed a wall inside of me that will always and forever prevent me from taking my own life.
My twin brother and I went to live with our paternal grandparents. It was not always easy there. I don’t think or believe the same as the rest of my relatives, so while not exactly worthy of outright hate, I was not worthy of unconditional love either. I tried to earn love and respect by getting good grades in school, but that only seemed to alienate me further. My grandparents were hard working farmers and completely illiterate. I would keep my mouth shut, so my “book learnin” wasn’t quite so obvious.
It wasn’t that they didn’t care, I think they just didn’t know how to respond to me. They felt uncomfortable with me. I loved them anyway.
My dad was a truck driver. He drove “cross country,” so he wasn’t home much. Once, he was gone for 2 years. I used to sit on Grandma’s front porch and wait for him, hope in my heart for the slim chance of him coming home. When he did arrive, he would flood my twin brother with gifts and stories. I would get a hug and a pat on the head. I wanted to sit on his lap, to hear the stories, to ride in the “big rig” with him like my twin. I still don’t understand how being a girl made me unequal. I needed him to love me the way he loved my brother, but that would never be the case.
After I was married, he came to my house looking for my twin. He had not yet met my newborn son. I begged him to come in. I would make coffee, we could wait together for my brother to come home. He stood at the door and said he would come back when my brother was home. I shut the door, slid down to the floor and cried. Why was I so unlovable? Why was I not worth an hour of his time? After that, I decided that I was done begging for his attention. I had my own issues to worry about.
My husband was abusive. I left him when my son was 6 yrs old. I moved in with someone I met online, a terrible decision because he was not good for me or my son. I left him too, and quickly found myself living in my dad’s basement.
I went to college, earned all A’s and a degree, and met a wonderful man. He does not abuse me in any way, and I finally felt loved for the first time ever.
My son was 15 by then. He had undiagnosed autism and an IQ of only 72, but we tried so very hard to create a safe and loving home for him. Sometimes it was really difficult, he was rebellious towards my boyfriend, never wanting to listen to him. I cringed every time I heard him say, “You’re not my dad.” We worked to try to make things better.
When my son was 19 years old, he came home from school one day and told me he had met a wonderful girl and wanted to date her. The problem was she was only 14. Her parents were divorced. I spoke with her mom, and she was alright with the situation. I never heard from the girl’s father, figuring I would get the chance at some point because he welcomed my son over to his place once or twice.
It was early morning on a Friday. I went to check on my son. There was no answer when I knocked on his door. I open his door a crack. It smelled like old socks because he never cleans it, but he was not in bed. His backpack was gone. I figured he must have gotten himself off to the school bus by himself, unusual, but I was happy about it. I spent the day dreaming of the wedding I hoped to be planning with my boyfriend soon.
When my boyfriend arrived home, I realized that my son was not home from school yet. I told myself he was probably at his girlfriend’s house having dinner, so I had my boyfriend call over there. At first, my boyfriend was silent, then he stood up and turned on the TV. There on the news, was a picture of my son and his girlfriend. The caption on the picture said, “Man, 19, kills 14 year old girlfriend’s father.”
In that moment, I lost everything that I had ever held dear, my hopes and dreams gone, blasted away in pain, regret and remorse. What did I do wrong? How could I not know that was going to happen? I blame myself every single day …if only I knew what was happening, if only I would have done things differently …if only …IF FUCKING ONLY!!
That was 8 months ago. I have not been able to touch my only child. He does not emote very well, never has. He will go to trial in the spring. The best I can even hope for is that they will put him into a mental institution instead of a prison …but how likely is that? I don’t know. I know if you are capable of doing something like that, you need to be kept away from society. He had never been violent before, and has not been violent since. He waited for the police, admitted his guilt. He cooperated and did not flee.
My son was nearly strangled to death already. It is a painful reality that he will not do well with the rest of the prison population. He cannot read people’s emotions, and does not understand when someone is being sarcastic. His mental age is 14, and he is easy to manipulate.
My boyfriend is still with me, thankfully. My twin still talks to me, but my dad and grandparents passed away before all this happened. The rest of my family speaks ill of me because of my “different” ways of thinking. My community hates me because I am the mother of a murderer. I feel completely and utterly alone.
I am not suicidal, I won’t take that road, even after all of this, but I am not actively living now either. So, where does that leave me? I don’t know, but I don’t like it.
by Band Back Together | Dec 2, 2013 | Child Abuse, Coping With Domestic Abuse, Domestic Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Help With Relationships, Helping Someone In An Abusive Relationship, Marriage Problems, Romantic Relationships |
Love is patient. Love is kind. It does not chase you down, tear down a locked door, and choke you.
Today marks the anniversary date of my husband and I dating, seven years ago. And yet 5 years ago, September 11, 2008 he choked me while I lay in bed. I don’t have the energy to go through the whole story. I simply need a place to type and let go.
We are still married. We have two children together. You may wonder why I would stay with a man who tried to take my life but you see 25 years prior to this incident I was attacked. I told three adults right after it happened and yet no one did a damn thing about it. So, I’m not surprised that I would stay in an abusive relationship. You see as a child I was taught it was okay to hurt me. That I should do nothing about it and simply go on with life. And so I did and have done ever since.
Until now.
I began therapy last Tuesday and I have spent the week crying and digging up old wounds, uncovering them and this time dealing with them.
My husband isn’t too happy about this. Yesterday he wanted to be supportive. However, when I ask him not to touch me or hug on me he becomes defensive and explains that he feels rejected.
Well too fucking bad.
I refuse to chose between my mental health and his comfort zone. He wants to stay in this house while I work through this then he’ll have to deal with what comes with it. I’ve asked him to leave but he, nicely, explains again that he wants to stay and work through this with me. Fine. Live here. But I’m working through this my way, the way that works for me and that happens to be with my own space and in my own time.
Thank you for letting me share this here and thank you for not judging me. I would never encourage a friend or family member to stay in an abusive relationship and so I know I must move on, for me.
by Band Back Together | Dec 9, 2010 | Abuse, Coping With Domestic Abuse, Domestic Abuse, Helping Someone In An Abusive Relationship, Psychological Manipulation, Rape/Sexual Assault |
Duck is my husband. He is the rock in my life. He keeps me tethered to the earth when my mind might otherwise let me float away. But there are some negative things in our relationship. Some negative things in our lives. Things that are starting to break me down. Break his hold on me. I’m starting to get lost in my head again .
When I was a teenager, I was in a severely abusive relationship. He emotionally, physically, and sexually ripped me apart. He destroyed my physical well-being, my sense of self, and my sense of personal safety. He took away my strength. He took away everything I had.
I got out of there. It took years of leaving and returning, but I finally escaped when I was 18 after a near-death experience at his hands. I don’t talk about the years of my life that he stole. I try not to remember them. I try not to think about the fear he put into me. The fear that I thought would never go away.
My Duck, my wonderful wonderful Duck, made me feel safe again. My Duck is teaching me that I have value in the world.
But my life isn’t letting me feel that anymore. Duck’s mother lives with us. She’s going senile. And as she loses her grip on reality, she’s getting mean. Really mean. She uses a tone of voice when she talks to us that is the same as the Abuser used. She calls me names. Makes me feel insignificant.
How do I keep my fragile sense of self from breaking when I’m surrounded by the same sounds as broke me in the first place?
by Band Back Together | Dec 3, 2010 | Abuse, Anger, Child Abuse, Coping With Domestic Abuse, Domestic Abuse, Guilt, Loneliness, Sadness |
I picked up the key – my key – to the apartment my son and I would soon call home.
I tried to figure out just what I could take. If I took too much – or the wrong things – I feared the price we’d pay.
I made the reservation for a U-Haul, knowing that I didn’t have the money to pay for it, but that it was the only option.
I learned that my son had been suspended from school, on moving day – inappropriate language. I was hoping to protect him from the process of moving but now he would have to help.
I had $74.87 in my checking account that had to cover the U-Haul, gas, food, laundry and basic needs for the two of us for six days.
I was terrified.
I grieved the life I thought we’d have. The family I so desperately wanted.
I was convinced that he would see his abuse was the problem. That he’d seek help. That he would change. That we would be the family I knew we could be.
364 days ago …
The emotional damage I allowed him to inflict on my son became vividly clear within days of the move.The realization of just how damaged I had become would materialize much later.
It hasn’t been easy. Not a single day. I’ve tried to make the impact on my son minimal, but he has often had to do without.
I’ve had to apply for financial assistance to help offset the cost for him to attend church camp and youth fall retreat, sharing very personal information with complete strangers so that they could judge if we were worthy of their money.
I’ve had to file for bankruptcy, facing the public embarrassment of admitting I could not meet my financial obligations.
I’ve had to get food from a food bank, more than once – waiting in line for hours with those people – hoping I wouldn’t see anyone I knew, but never being quite that lucky. Feeling waves of humiliation and shame each time and never telling my son.
Many days I’ve felt like a charity case – a project for someone – not quite human.
Although we remain married, I suspect he will eventually find someone else who is prettier – smarter – more concerned with the image and the things so important to him. When that day comes, I’ll be faced with the reality I’ve been avoiding – even denying. The reality that confirms I wasn’t enough for him, and will never be enough for anyone – just like he told me years ago.
364 days ago …
It was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do. But I’m ashamed to admit I didn’t do it for myself. If it weren’t for my son I’d have never left. I still believe that I don’t deserve any better. That settling is my only option to combat a life of loneliness. But my son? My son? He deserves better.
I wish I could have done it for me.
by Band Back Together | Dec 1, 2010 | Abortion, Abortion Recovery, Abuse, Anxiety Disorders, Coping With Domestic Abuse, Domestic Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Infidelity, Major Depressive Disorder |
I can’t believe it has been 15 years since I meet him. There are days it feel like it was just yesterday. I knew his past – his Dad killed himself when he was young and he rebelled. He still did things that you would expect a troubled youth to do, but that stuffed seemed to stop once we started dating.
I can’t really complain about the first year and a half of the 3 years we were together. We were a normal, young couple in love. Everyone thought we were a happy couple. Then I got pregnant. It wasn’t planned, but I was young and “thought” I was in love.
That’s when you started telling me how worthless I was. It’s also when you started to hit me. A punch in the arm here. A shove there. Then you started with my stomach. Told me I was stupid and I wasn’t going to have this baby. You forced me to have an abortion, which in hindsight I am glad I did, mainly because I think if I had carried this baby longer, You would have made sure it didn’t survive.
I was no longer allowed to see my friends. I feel into a deep depression and was heart-broken when you broke up with me. What to do with all of this new found freedom? Take a trip with my BFF of course! Well, once you got wind of that, you had to have me back. Could it be the rumor that I was planning on moving with her to Florida, start a new life? Foolishly I agreed to meet you for lunch. I let you make me think you were truly sorry and wanted me back.
Things only got worse. I had a curfew, had to sneak out to be with my friends, could only do what you wanted me to do. The beatings and verbal abuse got much worse the second time around. I remember the time I picked you up from work at one in the morning in the city and you beat me in my own car because I was listening to a mix tape of songs that my favorite cover band played. A stranger came up to the window as you were banging my head into the car window. He said he was calling the cops and told me to get out of the car, that he’d help me. You stopped hitting me long enough for me to drive away, only to start punching me in the legs the whole ride home.
If I loved you enough, you’d stop, I told myself. You told me how much you loved me.
You were only doing this because it’s what your Dad did to your Mom.
I started sneaking out to go out with one of my BFFs. I started having fun again, feeling like myself again. I cheated on you. I found a great guy, at my favorite hangout, who I had known since high school. He worshiped me. He told me how smart, beautiful and fun I was. It gave me my confidence back.
I got the nerve to leave you. I made sure to do it when everyone was home at your Mom’s house.You proposed to me, told me you’d already asked your Mom for her engagement ring your Dad had given her. I took all my stuff out of her house and moved right in with my new boyfriend. I lived 10 minutes from you for 3 years and you never knew.
To this day I live with the scars you left me, physically and emotionally. I have been on and off anti-depressants for 10 years. I have panic attacks when I am reminded of a bad beating. I freak out when my husband tries to kiss me (like if I am leaning up against the counter & he blocks my way out). I feel trapped, yet I know he would NEVER lay a hand on me.
Luckily I found REAL love with my husband. I told him EVERYTHING you did to me and he still loves me. I am damaged goods, but he loves me anyway. You told me if I left you NO ONE would want me. I can count on one hand the number of people who know what you did to me, but I need to get it all out.
I was a silly, young girl who believed I could change you. I now know, that you were the one who changed me. Not because you loved me, because what we had WASN’T love.
You made me stronger, no I made me stronger.
I survived the hell you put me through.
by Band Back Together | Nov 29, 2010 | Abuse, Addiction, Alcohol Addiction, Coping With Domestic Abuse, Domestic Abuse, Economic Abuse, Healing From A Rape or Sexual Asault, Rape/Sexual Assault |
You beat me mercilessly and I learned to be gentle with my own kids.
You said hateful things to me and I learned to weigh the consequences of my words carefully.
You sexually abused me and I learned that I could survive pure evil.
You were a raging alcoholic and I learned to watch my alcohol consumption, lest I become you.
You thought only of yourself and I learned to think of others.
You were angry and cruel and I learned that being kind is worth the effort it sometimes take.
You were a judgemental bigot and I learned to be accepting.
You were a horrible parent and I learned what kind of parent I never wanted to be.
You were a horrible husband and I learned to look for a loving heart before appearance, wealth or status.
You always found someone else to blame for your problems and I learned to accept responsibility for my actions.
You would jump to conclusions and accuse and I learned to listen.
You preyed on the weak and I learned to fight for the underdog.
You lied and cheated to get what you wanted and I learned to be honest and trustworthy.
You told me I was worthless and I learned to find my worth from within.
You tried to break me and I learned I have a strength I never knew was possible.
You showed me who you were and I learned exactly what I did NOT want to be.
You tried to kill my spirit and, in the end, all I had learned, set my spirit free.
