I was born into it. My mother married my father, a man who couldn't resist violence as his outlet for emotion. I remember the way he would scream at her. I remember how he would grab hold of her arm and threaten her. I remember the day, when I was two years old, and he came home. He went into the bedroom because my mother had been crying. 1982 was the year her brother, my Uncle Brian, committed suicide. It was the year my then seven-year-old sister had a tumor removed. It was not cancerous. On top of that, my mother and I were in a car accident where a Minnegasco truck sideswiped us. As a result of that accident, my mom had whiplash. She was forced to stay in bed all day because of the pain she was in. My sister had to watch me, but she was not always attentive as kids should be kids. I remember him walking into their bedroom. My mom was crying uncontrollably. He grabbed her by the neck and started choking her. She kicked him hard, grabbed him by the ear and dragged him down the stairs. She opened the door and yelled at him to get out and never come back. I don't remember everything that was said. I just remember wondering why it was happening. That was not the first nor the last of what happened in my presence. It's simply the one incident that stands out the most.
In addition to that, my father was very abusive to his children as well. I still, to this day, hear the words in my head: "I'm going to kill your mother and kidnap the two of you and there's nothing you can do about it." Another one of his statements to me: "I'm going to kill your mother and your sister and take you with me. Nobody will ever find us." I was called many horrible words at a very early age ranging from bitch to racial slurs, seeing as I'm multiracial. Other things happened, but I don't speak of everything that happened to me. It's better that I don't remember some things. The impact that the violence I grew up around, had on me as a person, was (and is) quite profound. I was afraid, and I'm still afraid to a degree, of people and of life. My anxiety, agoraphobia and panic attacks probably all stem from the events that took place involving the abuse. I have overcome a great deal as a human being. As many of you know, I'm a survivor of many obstacles. I know what it's like to struggle, and I know what it's like to succeed. I know what it's like to fall, and I know what it's like to rise above all that tries to hold you down. I know what it's like to be that girl that has it all, and I know what it's like to be that girl that has nothing. When I think of how many women and men are abused by their significant others and stay, it makes me sick to my stomach. I understand you wanting to make things work. I understand you saying that you love them too much to leave them. Do they love you too much to hurt you? Is that REALLY love when they "put you in your place"? If they really loved you, if they really LOVE you, they will not try and break who you are. They will not try and kill your resilience. If they really love their children, they wouldn't dare cause you such pain. When I saw the pain my father caused my mother, it brought me to tears. That was my mother. That was the woman that brought me into this world. That was the woman that carried me for nine months. That was the woman that cooked meals for the man she "loved" without a complaint. That was the woman that walked the ends of the Earth every damn day to make her husband happy. How did he repay her? How did he show her his love? He broke her. She has not found it in her heart to be with another man since my father hurt her. It's been far too difficult for her to overcome the wounds that he caused her and her children.
After that incident, my mom and dad made up once again. They tried counselling, but he never admitted he had a problem. He always pointed the finger at my mother. That's what they do, isn't it? She struggled to find a way out of the marriage, but the Catholic church refused to let people divorce back then. It was a sin to divorce. I personally think it's MORE of a sin to abuse somebody. I personally think it's more of a sin to stay in a relationship where you never feel safe! Perhaps that's just MY input, huh? I suppose there's a reason why my name isn't Pope. My mom seperated from my dad, with her father's permission, in 1986. In 1987, they were officially divorced. There were times he stopped by the house unannounced numerous times a day. He didn't change. She couldn't protect us. She was working. Sometimes we had to climb out the bedroom windows with a bed sheet to avoid him. We'd land on the driveway, barefoot.. and run through neighbor's lawns to a friend's house so my sister and I weren't hurt. I remember how hot the pavement felt on my feet at times. I also remember when we had to hide under our mother's bed so he wouldn't find us. We'd be in a complete panic, hanging on to eachother for dear life. My sister turned her anger toward abusing me. I turned my anger toward abusing myself. I turned to drug use, alcoholism, self mutilitation and internalized my hatred for my father. I cut myself to draw his blood from my veins as a child. I wanted so badly NOT to be a part of him. I remember how I struggled with anorexia and bulimia as well. I could never keep friends because I was afraid of how he might hurt them. Some witnessed his terrible temper tantrums and never spoke to me again. My sister herself got involved in drug use and other self destructive tendencies. She ended up in a relationship for eight years from the time she was a teenager until she was in her twenties... with a man who abused her. I remember him throwing a Carmex jar at her eye once. I called the police, but not before he came after me for telling him to leave her alone. His fist almost met the skin on my face. I slammed the door on him, hearing every word you never want to hear. Thankfully she got out of that. Thankfully she realized HER worth before it was too late and she became yet another statistic.
I believe there is hope for all of us. I don't believe that the people who hurt us, create us. I believe that the experiences we endure, shape us. They inspire us to be better people. For me, I have found that I am much more compassionate toward others because of what I went through. I have found that I am much more aware of who I let into my life. I have found that I don't take shit from anybody. I have found that I am more resilient than most people I know. To the women who choose to stay I say: I cannot live your life for you, but I can't be that person that stands by and does nothing. Did my father really love my mother so much that he had to beat her? Did my father really love me so much that he had to abuse me? You have to ask yourself if it's really worthy staying for. Are you sacrificing your need to feel safe for their "happiness"? If your lover were really happy, they would NEVER hurt you the way they do. You are not responsible for what they do to you. You are responsible for finding the strength to get out of your cell. You are not a prisoner. You deserve to live a good life. There ARE ways out. I do not by any means believe that you are a victim of fate. You are stronger than that. You are worth more than that. You deserve to be happy. Draw strength from your dreams. Are you living your dream by being a victim? I think not. Don't give up, and don't give in. Where there's a will, there IS a way out.
I choose to share my story with you, in hopes of making a difference. I have healed greatly from my childhood, but every day is a struggle for all who have endured struggle. I want you to know there is no one ending. You have the power to write your own story. You hold the power to change your life. Nobody is holding you back but you. There is never a reason nor an excuse for abuse. There is never any justification in it. Feel free to share this blog with others. My life story is meant to teach others, not be held in a capsule. Blessings to all of you. May your angels be with you.
In Love&Light,
3G aka Meg
