Have you ever had a moment in time where you truly thought you were about to die? I’ve had several. I remember the first time he hit me. I thought it was funny, I almost thought it was cute. Because guys only hit you if they really love you and you’re upsetting them right?
Wrong. But the girl I was then sure did think so. I met him at a really vulnerable point in my life, I was so lonely and wanted someone to love me so bad. I was very over weight and wasn’t having any luck with relationships because I wasn’t attractive.
He came in and showed me the attention I was desperate for. He took me on a date, a real date. We went out to a bar and I remember just being on cloud 9 because he was so handsome and he seemed really into me.
We got a hotel room after to party, that’s when he brought out the meth. I had used it in the past here and there. Just to stay up late drinking with it. But I never did more than one line a night so it wasn’t ever a big deal to me. So this time was no exception, I gladly took the meth offered to me.
The next day I felt real cruddy, coming down and exhausted and he offered me another line. It instantly picked me back up and I was ready again. My car broke down at his house and I ended up stuck there for the whole weekend but I didn’t mind too much.
I used meth the entire weekend. When I left I had urges for more, I craved it but I didn’t understand the cravings or why I craved it. I had been taught about addiction but nothing I was taught prepared me for the real thing.
He would call me and ask me to use my car, I’d hurry all the way down there and let him. He’d leave me with some meth and say he’d be right back and I believed him.
That’s how it usually was with him, he’d leave me with just enough drugs to tide me over so he could go out all night with my car. But I would have done anything just to see him, and make him happy and get a little high to top it off.
I was losing weight so incredibly fast I was hooked. I got so addicted to watching the scale go down more and more. Not long after meeting him I moved into a hotel with him and both our sons. When I got to the hotel I put my son inside the room alone and went back to my car to get my clothes and he was crying so bad like he was terrified and it gave me a really bad feeling.
I kept that bad feeling the rest of the night, we smoked meth in the hotel bathroom while the kids were in the room. That was the one and only time my son was exposed to it, and the next day watching him sit at the hotel table eating a bowl of microwaveable Mac and cheese, I knew I couldn’t keep him there.
It hadn’t even been 24 hours and I knew I didn’t want to expose him to that. I called my grandma and asked if he could stay with her for 2 weeks while I looked for an apartment. Just two weeks. I don’t know why she agreed, he had never been away from me. Maybe she knew and felt something was wrong. But she came right away. In my mind I really thought it would just be two weeks. But that was the last day that he was ever mine.
Those two weeks turned into months, and years. But we will save him for another story.
Now newly free of responsibilities I could do whatever I wanted. I was high 24/7. He sold drugs to everyone we knew, I had student loans and he was blowing through it a million miles an hour and I had no idea because he had total control over my car and my money.
Sometimes I would be sleeping and a car down the street would rev its engine and scare him, and he’d pounce on me. Punching me straight in the face while I was asleep, shoving his fingers into my eye sockets. Oh that was his signature move.
I have had my eyes gouged more times then any human can possibly have had their eyes gouged. I stopped fighting him over time just so that I could cover my eyes. I have scars on my cheeks from his nails scrapping the skin trying to force his fingers under my hands to get to my eyes. One time he got so mad he couldn’t get to my eyes that he tried to shove something in my ear to bust my ear drum but it was too big.
He used to make me take my clothes off so he could search me, I was still pretty overweight and extremely self conscious so doing so was humiliating but he would hit me until I gave in. So I would stand their naked and he would hit me in the face and say he wouldn’t stop until I learned to stop crying. Because he can’t be with a girl that’s scared of him. He trained me not to cry or flinch when he hit me, he trained me to take severe abuse like some kind of a zombie soldier.
He used to board the windows and door up with wood and a drill and not let us leave the room for days at a time. I wasn’t allowed to eat, I had to watch him eat. On so many occasions he convinced himself I had a secret cell phone and would order me to find it. Threatening me with the worst if I don’t give it to him. I would crawl around the room looking for a phone I knew wasn’t there just to prolong the beating.
One time he followed me with a wooden board, saying he would beat me with it if I didn’t find the phone. He didn’t, I don’t know why he changed his mind but he didn’t.
I showered very little, we didn’t have running water. And when we did I was afraid to shower because he had once sat me in a bath full of water and said he would hold my head under water and I believed him. One time I showered and used a white wash cloth and it was totally black after using it because of how dirty I was.
Towards the beginning of our relationship he used my college financial aid card to transfer money from my friends card to my card. I mistakingly tried to show off for him and his friends saying I knew her information and could rob her if I wanted.
I had never robbed anyone before and had no intentions. I loved her, she was family to me. But he said I had to. It took me several hours to give in. I couldn’t stand getting my ass beat anymore over $200 and I figured she would forgive me and let me pay her later. So he transferred the money after getting her password and he and his friends sat right in front of me forming their plan and story for when the police were called.
Plotting together on how it was all my idea, and it was three against one. They openly discussed it right there in front of me because I didn’t matter. And I knew that. She pressed charges immediately, and they left me alone at the hotel room so they could get away in case police came for me. I asked if I could have a line of meth out of what they purchased with the stolen money and he and his cousin told me no. I didn’t argue with that, it didn’t even register in my head how crazy it was for them to tell me no. I just accepted everything he threw my way without a second thought. A felony warrant was quickly placed.
One night we were at a hotel, we hoped around hotels every now and then when we weren’t staying at his house, and I was on the floor and he just kept hitting me and kicking me and biting my lips and I remember being on my stomach and him punching me in the back of the head. He eventually grew so angry that I wasn’t being knock unconscious that he picked up the hot clothing iron and started repeatedly hitting me in the back of my head and then my face.
“This is it, this is when I die. My son will never know how sorry I am for leaving him. It’s all over now” are the words that played in my head over and over until I went black.
I’m woken up to police at the door with a warrant for my arrest. Apparently in Corsicana the cops run names of people renting rooms and try to get people on warrants that way and they got me. I hadn’t seen my face yet but I assumed it was bad because they all kept looking at me with disgust. No one asked if I was ok. They just cuffed me and took me to the car. I had never been to jail at this point and was afraid to go.
When I got to intake I wanted to prolong the process of me being booked in so I asked for medical attention for my head, they literally just took me to Ellis county and said they didn’t want to be responsible because the extent of my injuries looked so severe. Ellis county gave me a pr bond an hour later so I could go to the hospital. That’s how you know something is seriously wrong when the jails won’t keep you on a felony warrant because of how badly hurt you are.
When I finally saw my face I was unrecognizable. It looked like my face was falling apart there were pieces of skin hanging and huge purple knots all over.
My dad and brother picked me up and I just remember kind of laughing like “heyyy” and my brother saying very upset “this isn’t funny Stephanie”
I was so numb to the abuse it just was no big deal to me. I had been so broken down to the point where I believed it was my purpose in life to be hurt and to feel pain.
I wish I could tell you this is where I left him and started my life over. But I went straight back to him.
I got pregnant, and miscarried. Very quickly. Coincidentally the morning after being beaten. So I told myself I have to leave, I truly believed he caused my miscarriage and I owed it to my unborn child to leave. I left and didn’t even take anything with me. I just left as quickly as I could.
He ended up going to prison for aggravated assault with a weapon, a charge he was out on bond for against me and another charge against his brother. And he ended up with another girlfriend. That’s the only real reason I was able to stay away from him because even after the last time I left I wanted him so badly.
Abuse is so weird, how it gets so deep in our head and our skin that we believe we are dirt. We are trash. We are not worthy of love and we should feel so blessed that this man loves us enough to put us in line to make us better.
I guess I can give him credit for getting my into writing. He allowed me to have notebooks and pens and he allowed me to write. I was not allowed to talk, it made him paranoid. I was not allowed to look around the room or look up at all. That made him even more paranoid. He was convinced people were out to get him and somehow I was involved. If people were in the room with us I had to completely turn my back and face the wall and keep my face down. So I would just write every thought I had. I wrote so much, and I swore someday I would get out and I would have my writings published to show the mind of a meth addict while actually on meth.
Years later I learned that he had been sexually abused as a very small child, with beer bottles. Learning that made me understand him more. When he would be torturing me he had this look of pleasure in his eyes. He loved to hurt me. I think to him that was him taking his power back. That someone had robbed him of his innocence and he was out for blood where ever he could get it.
I went to the DA while his court stuff was going on and I dropped the charges against me. My dad told me that someday he would kill someone and I would have to live with that for the rest of my life. Well, he did. While I was in hair school I befriended someone who’s cousin was given bad drugs by him and left to die on the floor. That my ex refused to call anyone for help, and made everyone sit and watch him die.
My dad was also right that I have to live with that forever. Because I knew he was dangerous. I knew he was a monster and I still protected him. It was domestic violence and addiction disguised as a relationship.
This is one of those stories that does end up with a happy ending tho. I am now married to the most wonderful man. He is everything you could ask for in a husband and father. I get my hair brushed daily, he rubs my feet and back anytime I ask. I am treated like an actual queen and have never felt an ounce of fear towards him. I truly have my fairytale ending and know true love now.
So if he’s reading this right now, I want you to know that I don’t have nightmares anymore. You don’t scare me or control my thoughts anymore. I forgive you, I release the hold you had on me.
See what I’m feeding the Gram right here