Stormy Eagle
Silver Member
I was the victim of childhood abuse, a true VICTIM. I suffered atrocities that were beyond my control, sometimes beyond my comprehension.
But recently, and during most of my adult years, I have allowed, and occasionally even sought, abuse.
The day I met Pedro he told me he was living in a shelter and was on Parole, and although I was living with my mother and daughter, I did my best to incorporate him into the household (until his 9pm curfew).
Starting the day after we met, I picked him up every day at 12pm (the minute his drug program ended), fed him lunch, fed him dinner, did his laundry or whatever else he needed done, bought him whatever he asked for, then drove him home at 9pm every night. With the exception of weekends, when he demanded I pick him up by 8am and drop him off at 10pm. If I didn't answer the phone every time he called he got furious.
By the time we were together a month, he had already stolen my grandmother's engadgement ring (the only thing of value I've ever owned) but I pretended I believed him when he said, "you probably put it down somewhere, you know you are always loosing things."
One month later I was reading his Parole Release Papers and found out he had Hep C...I asked him why he didn't tell me, and he denied having it, only to admit it days later. And although he had it for 20 years, and told me how awful the disease made him feel, when I asked him to use a condom he got violent (I didn't ask him to use one again). But I stayed with him.
By out third month together, he had hurt me more than once...month 12 he staged a break-in and stole $6000 cash...he was no longer welcome in our house, but by then he had moved into a room being paid for by Social Services...so I often stayed there with him.
Month 16, I was 3 months pregnant with his baby, he beat me and hung me in his closet by my neck...the next day I miscarried the baby. I stayed.
Month 22, he strangled me in front of a friend's house...she came out because the dogs were barking frantically...he jumped off me and ran. Two weeks later, after he threatened to kill me (yet again), I made a police report. They arrested him.
He is now in jail, and although at first I called the DA's office and begged them to drop the charges, with this time and space from him, I am often very angry...not only at him, but at myself. For nearly 2 years I endured daily abuse!!! I could have said no, but I didn't.
If they hadn't taken him away would it have ended? Would I have ended it? Very doubtfully...unless I had someone else to kick me around first.
I am very grateful for this last situation, it is what prompted me to start trying to pull my s*** together. But I can't believe I have encouraged people to abuse me for so long. I hate myself for asking for it. My child has suffered because her mom is such a f*** up!
A-L
But recently, and during most of my adult years, I have allowed, and occasionally even sought, abuse.
The day I met Pedro he told me he was living in a shelter and was on Parole, and although I was living with my mother and daughter, I did my best to incorporate him into the household (until his 9pm curfew).
Starting the day after we met, I picked him up every day at 12pm (the minute his drug program ended), fed him lunch, fed him dinner, did his laundry or whatever else he needed done, bought him whatever he asked for, then drove him home at 9pm every night. With the exception of weekends, when he demanded I pick him up by 8am and drop him off at 10pm. If I didn't answer the phone every time he called he got furious.
By the time we were together a month, he had already stolen my grandmother's engadgement ring (the only thing of value I've ever owned) but I pretended I believed him when he said, "you probably put it down somewhere, you know you are always loosing things."
One month later I was reading his Parole Release Papers and found out he had Hep C...I asked him why he didn't tell me, and he denied having it, only to admit it days later. And although he had it for 20 years, and told me how awful the disease made him feel, when I asked him to use a condom he got violent (I didn't ask him to use one again). But I stayed with him.
By out third month together, he had hurt me more than once...month 12 he staged a break-in and stole $6000 cash...he was no longer welcome in our house, but by then he had moved into a room being paid for by Social Services...so I often stayed there with him.
Month 16, I was 3 months pregnant with his baby, he beat me and hung me in his closet by my neck...the next day I miscarried the baby. I stayed.
Month 22, he strangled me in front of a friend's house...she came out because the dogs were barking frantically...he jumped off me and ran. Two weeks later, after he threatened to kill me (yet again), I made a police report. They arrested him.
He is now in jail, and although at first I called the DA's office and begged them to drop the charges, with this time and space from him, I am often very angry...not only at him, but at myself. For nearly 2 years I endured daily abuse!!! I could have said no, but I didn't.
If they hadn't taken him away would it have ended? Would I have ended it? Very doubtfully...unless I had someone else to kick me around first.
I am very grateful for this last situation, it is what prompted me to start trying to pull my s*** together. But I can't believe I have encouraged people to abuse me for so long. I hate myself for asking for it. My child has suffered because her mom is such a f*** up!
A-L