The beginning...

So, here I am, faced with the commitment I made to 411 people that "like" the Facebook page to post a blog with an overview of my story before I delve deeper into it in future blogs. Personally, I don't like saying that people "like" the Facebook page, because liking anything with the term "Verbal Abuse" seems wrong to me.

I know that I made a commitment to this group to slowly grow it until I have the time to manage it full time and turn it into a charity. It has been growing at the right rate, which is slow. I feel like we, together, will be able to help many women move in the right direction to heal.

I've shared it before, and will many times in the future. I decided to do this because when I searched online for personal stories, there were none. I found no validation and continued to feel like I was crazy, alone, and stuck. When we are safe and feel comfortable telling our stories, they will be extremely beneficial to the women* that read them.

This will be raw and unedited, and hopefully the thoughts will flow. I'm afraid to re-read it and edit as I write because there are humanistic characteristics and mistakes that will make some of you feel more comfortable with me. Today I have constantly thought about where I should begin. Do I pick a story out of so many and let it flow or do I gloss over the surface and continue another time with stories? I don't know yet. All day I have been bombarded by memories, as I am most days. Today was different because I want to share with you the best way that I can. I have been moved while responding to emails and Facebook messages lately by the stories and pleas for help. I realize over and over again that we are NOT alone in this. Our stories have different details, but are so much the same. We are afraid of our next word, step, or even breath whether we are still in contact with the abuser or not. The breath of the abuser is always on our neck, sticky and chilling. He changes, he stays the same...no matter...because it is always there.

Married once before, I met this man with hesitation that was overridden with infatuation. He was charismatic, confident, successful, playful, and interested. I never had felt true self confidence and was very concerned that I would never find someone to love me. He stood me up twice and I still went out with him because he talked to me like no one ever had before. We spent a fabulous week together shortly after because my son was at his father's for half of Christmas break. I fell fast, but his "easy going" attitude about me kept me from wanting to tell him. There were times that I should have walked away. Hind site is always 20/20. I can remember now that, during the first week after our first date, he told me that I was average looking but he could make me pretty. I hated this comment, but part of me wanted to be what he thought was pretty. The breaking down started the first week. I probably was under the impression that I could not be broken down by someone else because I had already done it to myself. I tried to remain calm and maintain balance, even through several times when he needed a "break" and when he had sex with his ex girlfriend. I stayed because I knew, no matter what, that he was it for me. A year after leaving, I know he was. If he had treated me like a human, that is. Dating, our relationship was kept secret because of our business relationship. No one found out that we were together for a year. I was five months pregnant and starting to show. Everyone at work thought that I was seeing a married man because I would not talk about my new boyfriend. I had to tell HR and go through the appropriate paths to have all of my files audited that went to his company.

He refused the pregnancy and told me to leave. He told me he was moving 45 minutes away and selling his house if I didn't get an abortion. I begged and pleaded. I am ashamed of how desperate I was. I wanted him to at least be in her life, and promised that he did not have to be with me. I was told I could not have children...and I was being blessed with one more. I could not "take care of it". That's my choice. Still, I called for a week. I emailed him babycenter, "Your baby's development" updates. I left letters on his door about what it meant to be a parent. I felt for him, never being a real father. He had been a step father for 8 years. The girl called him daddy...yet he hated her mother for leaving and never spoke to the girl that was a daughter to him again. I feel like I was blind, even knowing this. He called me one day and said that he was sorry. He turned on his beautiful, charming side, and I melted. A week later, he still had not told me he loved me, but had moved my son and myself in with him.

I thought that he hated us. Jokingly one day, I tried to get him to admit he even liked me. His response had something to do with me being too needy and if I wanted to stay in his house, I needed to realize what he was doing for us. It didn't matter if he liked me or not. The helper in me "knew" I could fix him...and it appears I have.

Email from right before I found out I was pregnant. I was already afraid and justifying why I needed to hear this...I hate seeing it now, but this is how he melted me:

Tell me ONE thing you think I do well, and one separate thing you like about me. No, I don't need this to feel better about myself. I am 100% confident in myself. No, I'm not being needy. No, this isn't a big deal. Yes, I need you to do this. After you tell me, I won't say another thing about it. Promise. I know you're irritated with me right now.

His response: You make me feel needed, like I'm wanted and that I'm a part of something.



He needed me, and that is what I needed. This is all I can do tonight. The memories are flooding in...but I will be sure I type them as they come to me and compile them in a blog that flows more for tomorrow. This is tougher than I thought...and I haven't even started.

*I want to make it clear that an abuser can be anyone. Male, female, child, relative, stranger, friend, etc. For the purposes of my story, it is a male.