The Elephant In The Room

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If you had looked at me ten years ago and told me I would have been the victim of abuse again, I would have laughed at you. My mom beat me, my brother, pretty much everyone, but my dad. When I left at 15, I swore I’d never deal with it again. How wrong was I?

Domestic abuse is the elephant in the room, constantly. As humans, we don’t discuss it until some thing drastic happens. We tell people there is a way out or that we can help them. However, at some point, we forget that. Our protective nature over others dies. We let it go. We’re more concerned about ourselves than anyone else. Human. Nature.

I came home this year. I fell in love. Passionately. Madly. Heels over the moon. I was in love. I left someone for him and I changed everything. It’s strange falling that quickly. It’s amazing and debilitating. It blindsides you, like a ball hitting you in the back of the head. You’re stunned and then you slowly come to. When you try to explain it, no one really listens. You repeat yourself continuously, until you’re blue in the face. I don’t know if you do that for others or for yourself. For me, it was for myself.

As time went on I learned he had an addiction. He threw me out of a car to get what he was addicted to. He literally murdered my spirit. I started holing myself up inside. In case you’ve been wondering where I have been, that’s where. I was so emabrassed to come outside with the marks from being injured by him. I tried to help him. I slowed down on shooting. I started staying home as much as possible. I avoided the industry. He escalated and unless I pulled away the escalation would have continued.

Ya, that bit about throwing me out of the car happened. I still receive his texts about how it’s my fault he’s addicted to this stuff and how he should just die. It’s taken a toll. I’m scared in my head. I’m timid. I fight people who come close. In all actuality, I just want one normal night. We all discuss violence and domestic abuse when it’s in the headlines, but it happens every day. Every. Single. Day. To kids. To adults. No one is immune. Yet, we turn a blind eye. This is my stand. My way to show I’m not ok with being silent about abuse! What’s yours? What’s your story?