Therapy Part 1

So as part of my therapy, I have been writing my bad memories or experiences down. The obvious place for me to start was with my relationship with Ian. So I started. There will be more to come with this one but for now I want to share the first part of my survival story, For what it is.

He hit me. How could he break the one promise he made to me. I was angry and scared. I wasn’t swinging at him. I wanted to push him away. He was part of the reason I was angry. I was about to lose my job, we just found out I was pregnant. All he could do was lay in bed and watch tv all day while I went out busting my ass at a part time job, while dealing with bad pregnancy symptoms. So how could he hit me. I pushed, he swung. It wasn’t even a punch. He hit me with a fisted slap. That was the beginning. The lost trust. I sat on the bus the whole way home, unable to even look at him. Years later he tells me he wants to forget the past. Well I cant live like that. I have for too long now. This is my side of the story. This is why I can never be with him again even though I love him. Even now I hate myself for loving. I even hate him as much as I love him. The slap was the real beginning. But even then I didn’t make him leave. And even then he still didn’t make any effort to support our growing family. All he cared about was the pot. Or drinking. Or whatever else he did. I don’t know because while he got lazy and didn’t do shit I was busting my ass, walking through the snow to work every day. Helping people who acted better than me because they had better jobs and I was just the person who bagged their groceries. Even before the infamous incident there were moments of rage. I have nightmares even now of him swinging lead pipes at me. He missed but shattered the crystal vase he bought me, just like he shattered my heart. He would throw my phone at me. He would constantly call me names. I told him once of one of my dreams of being a singer. He laughed at me and called me a “fat ass bitch who cant hold a tune”. I began to have doubts of carrying our child. How could I bring a child into this world having someone as violent as him as a father? Me, someone who firmly believes in abortion as murder, actually considered it. If just to protect them. I was terrified to bear his children. My fears and doubts were apparently eveident. I remember the night he held me down on the bed and held a buck knife to my stomach. He said if I didn’t want the baby he would cut it out of my stomach for me. I look at her now, The child I did give birth to and wonder how can I ever tell her that her father threatened her life before she was even born? Or worse, that because of her father, her twin did not survive? That was because of the incident. He claims my mom started it. This is the truth as I remember it, and believe me I can not forget that day no matter how hard I try. As usual he was laying in bed, in the middle of the afternoon. I had already left my job and had been begging him to at least try to find work. The reason he had been let go of his previous job at Bass Pro was for sexual harassment. He claims his innocence. I have many doubts. But anyway I had been begging him to find work. I was having a difficult pregnancy to begin with and since I had lost my ID and was unable to get another one at the time, it would have been pointless for me to do much until I could get my ID. But we were running out of food and money and my dad hadn’t paid the rent in months. My mom was still fighting to get her SSI but was not getting any income. It was 3pm and he was still sleeping. “I” pushed him off the bed. Not my mom. Me. I was pissed. It was the middle of the afternoon, I was pregnant, and he acted like he could care less. So we argued. I told him to leave. As he was packing his stuff (which he left all over the apartment. His philosophy was to just leave things wherever they dropped or he put them down. He acted like no matter what I would clean up after him) He tried to take some of my CDs. I had lost most of my things only months earlier when we left California. I was pissed that he would try to take my things from me. I do realize that arguing over a stupid CD was childish. I never claimed to be perfect. He grabbed one particular CD that I liked and with one hand he crushed it all over the bed. In my childish rage I grabbed his favorite slayer CD. I ran into the kitchen and grabbed a knife to cut the CD (I’m really very weak) He claims he was running in there because he thought I was going to hurt my self. I don’t believe that. I believe he was going to hurt me. My mom stood in the doorway to stop him. Looking back at that moment I truly understood how much my mom loved me. But in his rage the bastard pushed my disabled mother to the side like she was a rag doll. She hit the ground with her arthritic knee. We argued some more while my mom called the cops. Just before the cops arrived he picked up a stack of 36 cds (I counted them later) and threw them. I do not know if he was aiming for me or not, but whatever the intention they hit my stomach like a sack of bricks. He stalked out before the cops arrived. I did press charges but I also agreed to the plea deal. Anger management and some probation. Three days later, I began bleeding. When they checked me out, I had lost amniotic fluid and with that my daughters twin had also died. I am grateful to have her, but I still mourn the loss of the other, along with my other miscarriages. Unfortunately because of my stupid heart and me being too much of a romantic for my own good, Our story was only beginning

To Be continued......