I was introduced to an amazingly charismatic and charming man through mutual family members months ago. He told me that very night that he had PTSD being completely honest. If only then I knew the meaning to his words. I didn't. I had a very small idea of what PTSD, but how severe it could be I had no idea. I didn't think too much about it, I never thought that our relationship would only go farther than friendship. But his persistence constant charm and just ability to make me smile eventually won me over and we started dating.
I got a first whiff of PTSD when I saw him yell and curse at a young teenage girl who was skateboarding in the middle of the street. We got into a huge fight with yelling about what it right and yada yada yada and it ended in him in tears. I felt bad for him, and caring for him we got past it. There were more outburst past them a lot of time it ended in him getting a ride home, or even walking the 5 miles to his house. It went on like this for months.
After one major outburst that turned into him issuing many physical threats and verbally abusive things being said he took off into the street, enraged and drunk. I made him get in the car after following him for safety reasons when I saw him try to attack an innocent bystander on the street. The whole ride home he kept telling me to drive calling me colorful words the whole way. Yelling at me when I stopped behind cars and at stop lights that he didn't say I could stop. He screamed at me to take him to the airport and i just cried taking him home, hopefully his family would know what to do. He jumped out of the car when he got there and I drove home in an anxiety attack seeing his blood all over the car I didn't know what had happened. His friend text later that night saying that my bf needed me and he was bleeding and what happened. This was the real first taste I had. The next day i spend the day researching PTSD knowing he needed help.
After he contacted me the next day we agreed that we would start going to therapy. We went to one session. After that, he didn't need it anymore. He could do it by himself. Also I haven't yet mentioned that he doesn't take the medication prescribed to him, saying it makes him drowsy and explode worse later. Things went on this way for more weeks, him blowing up everyone once in awhile, then apologizing and my love and desire to help him, just taking him back. Problem was life would throw another obstacle. I became pregnant. He was so excited the whole time we were together he kept saying how he wanted to marry me and have children with me. He told his whole family, but our happily ever after was cut short and I miscarried. Part of him blamed it on me, the other part himself and his anger from stressing me out. That's where things turned for the worst.
He became violent now in his outbursts, grabbing me by the hair, the neck, holding me down and throwing things at me. All the while calling me names, telling me I'm the worst thing that ever happened to him, and how he was going to cheat on me. Then he'd say how he was going to kill himself. I prayed for my safety wanting to get away usually taking hours for him to leave me alone or alot of butt kissing and distracting to get him to calm down. The next day he'd apologize we'd talk about it and how we were going to fix things and be okay. We'd get help. He'd make me fall in love with him. I wanted to help him. I wanted to be with him. I loved his family and apart from the anger everything he is and what he stood for.
It went like this up and down for months. I became pregnant again. This time he changed. Completely for weeks he was the perfect man. Cooking cleaning catering and calm the whole while. We had disagreements for sure, but it was solved quickly with conversation. Minimum violence, no name calling and we were good. I could finally see the family we were supposed to be. The husband I had dreamed of having. And then as fast as the good came it faded. He started to get pissed off. Not understanding the hormones of a pregnant woman, the cravings. Getting mad when I was doing things wrong...He blew up. Driving the car around dangerously. Yelling at me threatening to take me to an abortion clinic. I took him to his house and he was blaming everything on me. That because of the food i wanted, didn't look good or wasnt what he was making and the fact I got quiet (pouting he calls it) I ruined the day. He told me to get out of the car. I wouldn't he told me if i started the car he'd smash my window. I told him not to threaten me and he said it's not a threat it's a promise. I tried to drive away he smashed my window. Then I saw blood. On my hands and legs covered in glass i drove bawling all the way home.
He called a few times, saying everything is my fault he's booked a flight tonight he's leaving. Going back to his hometown and "f me and f my baby." That is when I hung up.
Now this happened this afternoon. I haven't stopped crying, my visions of our happy little family we were just discussing last night out the window. The smiles we exchanged this morning in our bed, just memories. && I'm alone flecked with cuts from the glass. Scared. I want to call him, to try and fix it to help him. But my family and his tells me to stay away. Now it's my choice whether to keep that baby. How is that a choice? It's my baby. How can I turn my back on the man I love? He needs my help. Or am I just making life harder for him? Is letting go the best answer? I don't know who to talk to about PTSD no one I know really understand it. That is why I joined here.
Thanks if you read this. Sorry it's so long. I'm very emotional and lost.
I got a first whiff of PTSD when I saw him yell and curse at a young teenage girl who was skateboarding in the middle of the street. We got into a huge fight with yelling about what it right and yada yada yada and it ended in him in tears. I felt bad for him, and caring for him we got past it. There were more outburst past them a lot of time it ended in him getting a ride home, or even walking the 5 miles to his house. It went on like this for months.
After one major outburst that turned into him issuing many physical threats and verbally abusive things being said he took off into the street, enraged and drunk. I made him get in the car after following him for safety reasons when I saw him try to attack an innocent bystander on the street. The whole ride home he kept telling me to drive calling me colorful words the whole way. Yelling at me when I stopped behind cars and at stop lights that he didn't say I could stop. He screamed at me to take him to the airport and i just cried taking him home, hopefully his family would know what to do. He jumped out of the car when he got there and I drove home in an anxiety attack seeing his blood all over the car I didn't know what had happened. His friend text later that night saying that my bf needed me and he was bleeding and what happened. This was the real first taste I had. The next day i spend the day researching PTSD knowing he needed help.
After he contacted me the next day we agreed that we would start going to therapy. We went to one session. After that, he didn't need it anymore. He could do it by himself. Also I haven't yet mentioned that he doesn't take the medication prescribed to him, saying it makes him drowsy and explode worse later. Things went on this way for more weeks, him blowing up everyone once in awhile, then apologizing and my love and desire to help him, just taking him back. Problem was life would throw another obstacle. I became pregnant. He was so excited the whole time we were together he kept saying how he wanted to marry me and have children with me. He told his whole family, but our happily ever after was cut short and I miscarried. Part of him blamed it on me, the other part himself and his anger from stressing me out. That's where things turned for the worst.
He became violent now in his outbursts, grabbing me by the hair, the neck, holding me down and throwing things at me. All the while calling me names, telling me I'm the worst thing that ever happened to him, and how he was going to cheat on me. Then he'd say how he was going to kill himself. I prayed for my safety wanting to get away usually taking hours for him to leave me alone or alot of butt kissing and distracting to get him to calm down. The next day he'd apologize we'd talk about it and how we were going to fix things and be okay. We'd get help. He'd make me fall in love with him. I wanted to help him. I wanted to be with him. I loved his family and apart from the anger everything he is and what he stood for.
It went like this up and down for months. I became pregnant again. This time he changed. Completely for weeks he was the perfect man. Cooking cleaning catering and calm the whole while. We had disagreements for sure, but it was solved quickly with conversation. Minimum violence, no name calling and we were good. I could finally see the family we were supposed to be. The husband I had dreamed of having. And then as fast as the good came it faded. He started to get pissed off. Not understanding the hormones of a pregnant woman, the cravings. Getting mad when I was doing things wrong...He blew up. Driving the car around dangerously. Yelling at me threatening to take me to an abortion clinic. I took him to his house and he was blaming everything on me. That because of the food i wanted, didn't look good or wasnt what he was making and the fact I got quiet (pouting he calls it) I ruined the day. He told me to get out of the car. I wouldn't he told me if i started the car he'd smash my window. I told him not to threaten me and he said it's not a threat it's a promise. I tried to drive away he smashed my window. Then I saw blood. On my hands and legs covered in glass i drove bawling all the way home.
He called a few times, saying everything is my fault he's booked a flight tonight he's leaving. Going back to his hometown and "f me and f my baby." That is when I hung up.
Now this happened this afternoon. I haven't stopped crying, my visions of our happy little family we were just discussing last night out the window. The smiles we exchanged this morning in our bed, just memories. && I'm alone flecked with cuts from the glass. Scared. I want to call him, to try and fix it to help him. But my family and his tells me to stay away. Now it's my choice whether to keep that baby. How is that a choice? It's my baby. How can I turn my back on the man I love? He needs my help. Or am I just making life harder for him? Is letting go the best answer? I don't know who to talk to about PTSD no one I know really understand it. That is why I joined here.
Thanks if you read this. Sorry it's so long. I'm very emotional and lost.
