I am the abuse victim….

I am the abuse victim….

I realize more and more how much I play into the victim role. I truly wish to stand up and break free from it. Not live my life worried on the negatives of what they may try. This week was defeating. My ex’s still play a huge role in destroying everything good in my life. Misery loves company I guess. I have been failing at my attempts to escape all that haunts me. To not live in fear of the what if’s. I was ready to give up my blog because of my abuser. Isn’t that crazy he isn’t in my life anymore yet I’d let him still take from me. Writing is my therapy it’s one of the good’s in my life. Therefore it’s vulnerable and open for my abuser to target. So I need to once again summons up whatever courage my frail soul may have left and push back. He has hacked accounts created issues within. So I change the passwords. I use my unity with Marc to rebuild. I focus on the good things. Marc and I both have our own places. Both home are stocked with love and food and all needs meet at both. No one is behind on any bills. No one is really stressing financially. Although my head seems to be screaming I need to work and bring in more we truly are just fine. Stumbling is okay it’s not defeat. So I spent the week wallowing in my hard work my abuser destroyed then I shook it off. I woke this morning ready to conquer the new obstacles he had laid before me. I can regain what is lost with effort. My abuser will not get the gratification of seeing me remain defeated as I am already standing tall again. My ads are back up. I will have the site running better than ever by the end of the week. I can achieve anything. I’m not alone.

The Daycare Provider

The Daycare Provider

I am 18 years old. I am a mother of 2 at the time with my third to be on the way. I have completed my high school education and I am feeling trapped by my abusive husband, my children, my life. I decided that I could go to college for free. I could easily get state aide to provide payment for the daycare and I could get a grant for college. I could do something with my life! What a plan. I worked diligently to put it in action. Let me tell you what understand dhs and the requirements to get into college, daycare paid, books bought, and I had no license at the time. So getting my license was a large task to complete as well to make this happen for me. I had my heart set I was so excited. I pulled off dot after dot on my to do list. I found what seemed like the perfect daycare. The home in a rich sub division. The nanny a young married woman with impeccable cleaning skills. She was licensed and made nutritious meals. I took so much pride in the achievements even though it went unnoticed to everyone else. I remember talking of buying the books to my grandma. I had put up a ad at the local grocery store to babysit and I had babysit with taking my kids to earn the cash for my school books. Well grams thought I was ridiculous. I’d never finish I was wasting my children’s money. As that is who it rightfully should be used for not books. So I didn’t share much of anything about the journey at Lmc that year. I thought the daycare provider was my friend. I think I have pretty much always had a need for that ” friend “. My husband had told me to invite her out one night. We went to karaoke at the sliver beach bar. I knew by the third drink his red headed ass drank I would not enjoy the night. I had no idea how much it would destroy me from the inside. They drank and I mean they drank heavily. I stayed sober of course I was pregnant. My pregnancies we always awful. I was very ill and I had preterm babies. I wasn’t able to have sex. My husband didn’t think waiting was in his duties. He took the daycare provider home that night. He took her to my bed. He repeatedly called me to the room when his drunken state left him unable to stay hard for her. Making me help erect his cock. I’d race from the room and retreat to the kitchen the furthest room from them hoping I could drawn out what they were doing from my mind. He’d call me in again her this time wanting me in there. 🙁 I cried and I cried. I slammed the fridge in anger once after leaving the room and Keith ran out and grabbed my throat looking deep in my eyes and telling me not to do that again. I slept that night in my children’s bedroom floor under the crib. I sobbed and I sobbed. I never could feel good about being naked after. Not until I meet Marc. I couldn’t have confidence to be nude. The Daycare provider’s name was Megan. She and Keith would begin to see each other regularly. Even though she was married herself. She became pregnant in fact. Keith claims the child to be his although Michigan law made him her husband’s. In anger I tried to tell her husband. Keith eventually left me taking every possession I owned. The two of them making me into the monster who was crazy. I was biter and vindictive they would say. I think it changed friendship for me. I can’t trust. I can’t be open. She flaunted that she was better at everything a better wife took better care of the kids. She was his age she had the education and the time as a mom I hadn’t gotten yet. She stole it all from me for awhile. Later dropping it all like a bad habit. I am sure that was about the time she realized what that life she stole entailed.  I desperately wanted to ask her if it was worth it? If her son now is a constant reminder to the person she was to me and her own husband. The man that she had promised to love? I heard she later divorced, remarried, and moved away. I felt relieved knowing we wouldn’t bump into each other at some grocery store. Keith has showed the pictures of his son to myself and the kids. Bragging still of the time he had with her. They’re face book friendship and so fourth. It makes me sick to my stomach. It hurts that one day just as he and his mom did for his grandma and her children. My kids will search for the answers and siblings that they don’t know about and will hear of all these horrid tales. Of the children carelessly created and how they have no relationship or knowledge because their father never could figure out how to be a father. My heart breaks that my pain could be their’s one day.

Being Branded…..

The day that I meet my first husband was also the day I meet the man I’d later let brand me. It was at a party at a dinging, dirty, disgusting trailer in the country side. The trailer was owned by my first husband’s mother and he was the only one residing in it. Living off mommies coat tails as I use to say. Jeff was the cousin I am not sure if there was an actual blood relation as Keith called many cousin’s who weren’t actually that. Jeff was tall and mysterious. He worked at the same job that I had at the time. When I moved in with Keith it was Jeff that was my protector. It was him who would hand me the Tylenol after the fights. I grew close to him and his family. Nicki his cousin and right hand becoming my very best friend. The only person I had trusted back then. I remember not knowing that shaving pubic region was a thing and Jeff chasing me around the house telling me I had a bush. He took pliers teasing he would pull them out. It was only a few months into living together that Keith’s jealousy ended Jeff residing in our home. Jeff got into trouble and he went on the run. It never stopped us from talking. Throughout years of being in opposite states and separate lives we always stayed in contact. Jeff eventually got picked up and sent to prison. Letter after letter I sent to him. Telling him all of my deepest secrets I held so close. Phone calls and letters continued throughout the years. We made plans of marriage of him whisking me away from all that was and us creating a life together. I am not sure any of the outside world knew how close we had grown. Of course I am not sure if that was only existing in my reality or if he shared such thoughts. It felt like a lifetime he was incarcerated and life carried on on the outside of those bars. From 0 to 8 kids I had gone. When he got out I wasn’t single but dropped everything to run to him. I left the man I was dating at his home to be picked up and taken to Jeff. I had no words to mouth to him. I was shocked he was here standing before me. This was the day my dreams were suppose to come true. This was suppose to be the time that my fairy tale would begin. Yet neither of us could speak to the other. We spent the majority of the day together like that. Barely speaking not having any words. I texted of my children and I am sure that was an overwhelming conversation. He had not planned to come home to a ready made family of the numbers mine had. Another girl was texting him too… One who was a friend of a friend or maybe she was suppose to be a friend too. The second that I heard I had held a vengeance and anger in my heart for her. Jeff teased to the house how she was speaking of blowing him and needing a ride there. Everything I had believed in was a lie. I just kind of distanced myself for awhile. My return to the group showed them now in a relationship. I tried not to think of the empty promises and of the lifetime of letters. The more time I was around the more Jeff made it clear he had a burning desire to sleep with me. He married….. It deterred nothing. He would ask me over with lies or claims to needing smoke or wanting to tat me and then take each opportunity to touch me he could. My mind went in two entirely different directions. One side thinking this man is playing you he is married who cares if he is unhappy your no ones second choice. The other side thinking that this man came home from prison and you had over a half a dozen kids. How could he not be overwhelmed can you blame him for not choosing you? Let him make things right it’s you he loves. I would cling to everything he said. The speaking of how awful his marriage was. How love less it was. I would hear his wife with the same complaints. The day he did the tattoo on my back the one that was suppose to be a tinker bell but who knows what the final outcome is cause I surely can’t tell. He kissed down my neck and confessed his love for me. Months went by like this. Text, calls, adultery.  I don’t even know who I became. I did every single thing he asked. I never questioned the pain I would cause when everything came to light. Why the hell should I feel guilty clearly she took him from me. He placed every doubt in their marriage I needed into my head. I told him I could not be in his bed unless he left her. That night when I left their home I thought it was over. I had refused sex and left him angry. I told him it was over I would no longer continue this lie of a life. By 7 am my phone had been ridden with calls of him leaving her. He had packed his things was at his mothers and waiting for me. My heart raced maybe he did love me. Maybe him being with her was a mistake and now he was going to right all the wrongs in my heart and be mine. I ran to him. Letting in drama and anger from every direction. I took off to the next state hiding in hotel rooms. Dreaming of a life with him. Laying on a bed one day he told me I was his and would be his till the day I died. I had conformed to being exactly what he wanted. I went to bat with my landlord to allow him to live in a home he was not legally able. I allowed cps into my life because of his background. The wife he had was biter and rightfully so as she too tried many avenues to ruin my life. Laying on that bed though everything seemed perfect. I mean he was with me telling me he loved me. That I was his. I laid back and he asked to brand me his. How my mind could think that this was a good idea I have no idea. The 26 year old me sure had a lot she needed to learn. I allowed him to tattoo his name all the way across my vagina and take pictures to share with the world. Can you imagine the backlash I got and the pride he took in branding me property. I truly believed I belonged to him. Belonged to a man as if I was property a married man. One that was not my husband. Things went down hill from the moment I allowed him to brand me. Everything I couldn’t see I can now. The selfishness that was Jeff. I had allowed myself to become someone that was a disgrace to my character. I can’t escape the memories as I am still branded. I am amazed by how much a man is able to change me and who I am. Bringing in one toxic man will destroy all that is good in your life. I can’t forgive myself for who I became while thinking I was in love with him. I can’t forget it as much as I wish I could. I want to forgive myself for the choices I made with a foggy mind. I wish I had known then what I know now. I wish I could take back the foul choices I made.

Part 2 of the 2nd baby daddy

Part 2 of the 2nd baby daddy

So why stay in such a toxic place with him for 15 years… I believed honestly that no one else would or could love me. I thought that the emotions he showed were love. I would leave all the time and just to end up right back in the same spot. His tears of forgiveness and his words of “I’ll change” always played with my guilt. I would hear him say I don’t have anyone else and know to my core that was true. He has no one. So I’d stay and be miserable thinking if I didn’t maybe he would commit suicide. That would clearly be my fault if he had and how could I then face my daughter? I have watched my own children go toe to toe with the man they have known as their father their entire life to come to my defense. He does want to be a good father. He doesn’t beat his children or neglect them. He would without question give them his last dollar. He has given up his life to raise them. The truth is though our children deserved better than what they seen with us both in the same household. So now here is the tough part. I have paid my price for freedom and broke away from this man. But he is the father to my children. Even the ones he doesn’t share dna with the bond is there. Even through whatever anger the kids have right now the love is far greater. I want so badly to foster a relationship with him and the kids and make it a positive loving experience for them. I just do not know how. Chuck doesn’t know how to be loved or love. If your own mother is able to toss you across the room to your grandma in a argument with your father it is clearly hard to understand love. Our childhood stories are not the same. The pain we carry from them is. I have more understanding then most when it comes to Chuck and the damage he has to his soul. He blocks out many memories as I have. There are pieces that don’t make sense to him. I think he longs for clarity to some of his childhood without the knowledge of how to find it. He is a very selfish individual but again I think that plays back to the child hood trauma too. Or is this me again making a list of excuses for the men who beat and raped me my entire life? Is it me who is the pathetic one with my list of excuses for their behavior. For my need to fix those who took everything from me. I mean lets be honest every horrible event for the past 13 years can come back to this relationship. Yet I still worry and want to help him. I want to make him a better man for my kids. I very well may be a fool.

The Story Behind My Baby Daddy Number 2

This story goes way way back. You see after a failed marriage I found myself alone and clinging to anything or anyone who showed attention or love. I was living on my own in a small one bedroom apt. I had 3 children and a 4th on the way. I was young just a mere 20 years old when I meet Charles. One day sitting in my apartment with a friend we found ourselves feeling about as stir crazy as it gets. My friend, she had married as a teen as well. They had separated shortly after their I do’s and I had never had meet him only knew of his existence. As the night went on and the jitters grew we both contacted the men we were still legally married too. Somehow a brilliant idea of a 3 some for the use of a car crossed our minds. Neither her or I had any means of transportation. Her husband, well he had many questions and never really just said yes. Which is really all we cared to hear. So we hung up rather quickly to proceed to asking my husband. My husband was far quicker at responding with yes. In fact 10 seconds after calling he was already on the way to us. Upon his arrival the two of us took off in the car he had arrived in. Leaving him to babysit his own children. We were in the middle of a nasty divorce. Surely we were not on good terms whatsoever. But the offer of sex put all that aside. Once we were in the car we had no idea where to go or even what to do. We ended up in Walmart just walking the aisle without making a purchase. I remember thinking I had just sold myself for a trip to walmart. We debated not going through with our end of the deal but there was a very significant difference between my husband and hers. Mine would take what was owed to him even if she was a stranger. After walking Walmart for a measly 30 mins we went back and fulfilled our commitment. Nothing of the threesome was enjoyable. It had not been my first and it wouldn’t be the last. The next morning her husband started to message us. He was curious about the deal he had not taken. I think he was disappointed when he had found out that Keith had. He ended up coming to take us to run errands the following day. In the car he and I sat while his wife, my friend, went in and out at varies stops throughout the day. Charles later ended up messaging me. It was so long ago that our messages were on the yahoo messenger platform. AT first he spoke of wanting his wife back. Quickly it turned to him having a desire to make me his. I was kinda seeing someone on and off at that time. I was facing an eviction from my home I had just lost my job and my husband. I was a complete disaster in heels. His attention drew me in of course. It was all I had craved. Being wanted, desired, loved, fake or not it felt amazing. Soon he and I were seeing each other and his wife and my soon to be ex husband ( we had already started our divorce proceedings before these events played out) were as well. It had become a wife swap in real life. In the beginning I had just gotten my taxes. We ran away together hotel rooms and time spent with the kids. We enjoyed ourselves very much together. Both of us lavishing in the others attention. I was pregnant though and stress weighing heavy. I eventually would go into preterm labor just 3 weeks after us getting together. I had my daughter at 26 weeks gestation. She and I both were transferred to a more equip hospital and this seems to me to be the beginning of the end for anything that was or could have been healthy between the two of us. My daughter was transferred out of the state. With no vehicle this would put an incredible strain on myself. My husband he now thought this was not his child. I had put her up for adoption. Only to back out last min. Emotionally I was a complete basket case. After having my daughter I hit postpartum depression full force. I began to drink. Leaving Charles home to tend to children he had no part in creating. I was at the bar almost every night of the week. Even nights when I would say I would not be going there was nothing up there tonight I’d find my way there. I would have random men bringing me home or friends dropping off my car as I had disappeared. I had no way to cope with the feelings I was experiencing never did I feel there was a single soul who would understand. The verbal abuse started shortly after my drinking did. I think in my head I believed everything he said about me. Soon we had cps, and police all the time. I didn’t even know who I was frankly. I gave custody of all 4 of my kids to my ex husband. From there my depression grew! There were times of homelessness. We ended up at Chuck’s families residence. While there the abuse grew into rage. I remember on one occasion Chuck took telephone cord and wrapped my wrist tying me to the dresser because I was trying to leave. When I was trying to break free running between the two exits of our room he moved a wooden chair that obstructed him from reaching me and containing me. The chair was thrown onto the bed as I still trying to break free from the cord. I finally manage some leeway with the cord to have him throw me backwards. My neck connected with the chair that was thrown on the bed. I instantly dropped tears flowing letting out a scream. The I am sorry’s always flooded once that line had been crossed and I was in real pain. I remember the door’s being boarded up. This happened for 2 reason’s one of which was to keep me in. The second to keep out another man who resided in the home. As he loved to have his way with me as well. There were many times that I would say no to sex. I would cry plea not to have to. I eventually completely gave up fighting it. I would lay on the bed arms crossing my chest and state… I don’t want this I don’t like it but if you will not have it any other way then please quickly do what you need to. I would cry and cover my face. I would say that this was only because of the obligations. I’m not sure what I felt exactly obligated me to do so. The other man in the home Chuck would allow him to join at times. They would say we were going fishing but really it meant they were taking me to the woods or a river so that the rest of the house wouldn’t know of the horrible things they executed on my body. I tried several times to leave. I never could successfully though. I learned much of his horrendous past. The struggle he had feeling loved as a child. The abuse and addiction ridden childhood. I used that to excuse his behavior. I did try a few times to reach out and tell someone what was going on but it never seemed to be heard. I can remember making attempts to jump from his moving vehicle and ending it. Eventually I ended up pregnant. Only for us to run to illinois and the abuse grow, weeks later a door knob to the stomach and a horrendous fight in a bathroom left me miscarrying on the bathroom floor alone. I ran after that time I planned an extravagant exit strategy and took a bus to a train and moved back to michigan. I was homeless for some time bouncing between relationships. One day the feeling of hunger took over me. I could think of nothing but how I could obtain some substance for my stomach. I called chuck.  I had opened the door to pandora’s box all over again. He bought me pizza hut with the agreement I gave him sex. Behind the dumpster in the pizza hut parking lot with the rain pouring I fulfilled his request so he would fill my stomach. I got pregnant again that day. Can you imagine if my child ever ask her conception story how I can possibly share. When I found out I was pregnant he flooded with empty promises that I took straight to the heart and believed. He went to river wood and got anger management. I got sober and I got my head on straight. I fought and won my kids back and I gained a home for us all. The abuse may have dwindled down a bit for some time. Only to come back full force again. The belittling was a daily routine. I remember the first time I had hit him back. The first time I took myself to his level and let him get the best of me.  I still have a list of excuses for both his behavior and mine. He now feels an abundance of pain when he reads my blogs of the true love I have now. Of my thoughts to what he and I were. I still have this obligation hanging over me. I still help him in more ways than I can count and I feel like a complete fool for doing so. I keep thinking back to the times when I was too drunk to wake up and he took care of my duties. The times when I was alone and hurting and he sat with me. The time that we had this big fight resulting in me throwing him out but then the cat litter got thrown through out the house and I called him to come back… Cat litter clean up worth abuse I wonder how my head even could process that to be so. How on earth I feel the right to judge my own parents when I gave my children such a mess to live through. My children have watched me get punched, kicked, have heard of my rape, have seen first hand the abuse I endured. I did not protect them. I did not think that any of us were worth a better life. Now the abuse Chuck endured as a child I am more then positive effects the who he is now. I am sure that he thinks that he loves me. I feel guilty that I have now bought my freedom from him. I feel like I still need to be punished. Like the life I am leading now I am not worthy of. I wish I could erase it all from my kids memories and my own. I wish I had bought freedom 13 and a half years ago. I can’t go back. I have scars deep. I couldn’t stand before my bf and feel good about being naked for quite some time. When he tries to talk to me and share his feelings I can’t be anything but defense to him. I try so hard to not but it’s not something I am able to help.

Dinner by 6

Dinner by 6

I have generally lead a submissive life. I haven’t shared much of that with Marc. I find it spilling over and him giggling at me for things he has no idea the underlyings of.  Things like dinner being done and on the table when he gets off of work. Since I was 16 years old it was a requirement. To have dinner on the table by 5 is what it was mostly (6 is Marc’s time to arrive from work). Keith didn’t give much room for error. It wasn’t always beatings and his mom visiting with pain meds after. Sometimes the punishment was simply being made to sleep on the carpeted floor of a room alone in a dark isolation. Where we lived I was very isolated from the world. This tiny trailer in the middle of no where. I think the closet corner store was at least 12 miles. Even though his attention mostly negative I still craved it upon his arrival because it was far better than none at all. I carried that on relationship after relationship some more strict with the rules. I always worked so hard at dinner on the table when they walked through the door. I wanted to leave that life behind. I bought freedom right? So why is it that I spend 10 mins texting that dinner will be late ( it’s never late more then 10 mins after him walking through the door) before he arrives. Then a few more when he gets here. My stomach already upset all the time now it’s turning at my failure to have his meal ready. The stress from the day…. the disappointment….I now have this gut wrenching feeling he will be angry at me….   Here is the thing the man NEVER gets angry with me and I KNOW this. He walks in and giggles when I say it’s got 3 mins till finished and apologize. He constantly reminds me it is just fine to be late since he is not ever use to eating at such a early time in the first place. Yet I sometimes want to cry I feel so badly for not having it ready. He laughs that he is the first person I feed. That we get his plate and utensils and everyone falls in line behind him to make plates. He doesn’t think this is necessary either. I wonder if my past will continue to taunt me ….. I have no reason to worry of the time dinner but it’s been 6 months of the constant it’s okay reminders and I feel no better when it’s not completed. I love to cook but if I can not time it for that food to be ready upon him walking in my chest feels heavy and I feel sad. INSTANTLY! UGH