The Worst Month of My Life *Warning, graphic content* (2/3)

 *Warning, there may be triggers in this blog. There are stories of abuse and suicide. If you are in immediate need of help, call the Domestic Abuse Hotline at 1-800-799-7233 or the Suicide Prevention Hotline at 1-800-273-8255 

The worst month of my life started while I was at a bachelorette party for one of my best friends. I was worried about leaving Fred, my dog, with my partner, because I knew he liked to go out and drink with his friends. I am not opposed to this; however, I feel it should be done responsibly and driving drunk is not OK. On the second day/night that I was gone, my ex told me he was going to go to the lake to hang out with friends. When I called him later that evening he told me he went home, grabbed Fred and that the dog was tied to a boat on public docks while he was at the bar. I was not OK with this and I made that known. It was not acceptable in my world to leave a dog on a boat by himself where public can freely grab him. I also asked if they had a ride home, because I could tell he was already intoxicated. He said his friend would drive them, and they would be driving the boat to a private street so it was OK (his friend was also intoxicated). We had been having a lot of disagreements leading up to this point in our relationship, but I was mad. I will admit, I lost my cool. I was pissed that he left my buddy tied to a boat by himself and that he thought it was completely acceptable to get in the car with a drunk driver because they were taking side roads home. When he got home, he called me again and I was still mad, and still was not keeping composed. I was definitely having an emotional response to the situation. Eventually he admitted that he lied about having Fred on the boat and that he had been at the house all day by himself. He had left him for over 12 hours, in the house and did not have anyone check on him. The lies and the lack of responsibility for the dog made me even more upset. Yes, I was yelling and emotional, but I felt like no matter what or how I said things he never listened. Eventually his phone died and he decided not to charge it so I could not get ahold of him the rest of the night. This, again, made me more emotional. I went back to the hotel room and tried to sleep. The next day he finally called when he woke up and charged his phone. The conversation started with me telling him that I was upset that he didn’t even try to call back the night before, that I was hurt that he would lie about something as simple as watching the dog, and that he thought it was OK to get in the car with a drunk driver. He had a way of turning conversations back to what I did wrong. Yes, I had an emotional reaction the night before. Yes, I admit that is not the way I should deal with those situations. But, all the blame was put on me and there was not any admittance of fault on his side. At that point in our relationship, my self-esteem was at an all-time low of my life. Low self-esteem is something I have been struggling with since I was 7 years old, but it had never been this bad. 

When I was driving home, I was hysterical. I didn’t think I deserved to live anymore. I kept picturing my car going into the center divider. I kept wishing another car would hit me that way I wouldn’t have to kill myself. So instead of causing a car accident that could hurt other people, I started repetitively hitting myself in the face. I didn’t feel the pain from it because I was so numb by that time. I hit myself so hard for so long, I gave myself a black eye. When I got home, he finally apologized and told me how broken I was and how I needed to get help. I heard a lot about how broken I was and how that caused our relationship to be bad. I wore that black eye to work and told people that it was from Fred being so excited about me coming home from the weekend. I continued on with hating myself and everything I was, it became the only thing I knew how to do.

Two weeks later, I was in the wedding that the bachelorette party was for. The wedding was for two of my closest friends and I was excited, at the time, because my abuser was able to get off work to be there. I thought it would give us an opportunity to have a fun night together. We always connected the most on the dance floor. It was where I felt safest and happiest with him. The beginning of the wedding was great and we were all having a good time. I felt surrounded by people who loved me. At one point, my abuser left the dance floor to grab a drink. I do not know exactly how long he was gone for, but it was enough time that multiple people asked me where he went. I shrugged and tried to not let it bother me. Eventually I decided to try to find where he went. I found him by the keg, trying to recruit someone to work for him; my abuser was a supervisor at his job. I asked him to walk around the front with me and when we were alone asked if he came to the wedding to be with me, or to recruit people for his job, which already took a significant time from our relationship. He was not happy with this comment and started to criticize how needy I was and how he can’t be with me all the time. I also knew the person he was trying to recruit well enough to know he would never even apply for the job. I started crying and told him how I felt like I was far from being a priority in his life and that so many other things came before me. How I thought if we were around my friends for once, he would hang out with me. Yes, I was crying and emotional, but that did not justify the response that was to come. We were sitting on a bench and he said he couldn’t do this anymore. He said he couldn’t be in a relationship with me anymore. I begged him to make that decision sober in the morning, instead of while he was intoxicated that night. He started crying and I hugged him to try to calm him down. He pushed me away. I tried to rub his back because I knew he loved that and this time he grabbed me and pushed me to the ground in front of the bench. He then stood up and kept grabbing me by the arms and body to pick me up and slam me back down onto the grass. He would pin me down, then pick me up and slam me down again. I didn’t know what to do. I felt so helpless. I hoped someone would walk outside and see, but I was also so embarrassed that it was happening that I didn’t want anyone to see. At one point I heard a car start in the parking lot and hoped they would intervene, but no one came. I can’t recall how long this went on for or what got him to eventually stop. When he stopped, it felt surreal and I didn’t know what to do. But I felt like it was all my fault. I felt like if I just let him do whatever he wanted to and if I didn’t cry, then that wouldn’t have happened. I blamed myself for the whole situation. We decided to leave the wedding and go home. I waited till he fell asleep, then cried myself to sleep next to him. I had to go to work early the next morning, so I snuck out of bed, went to the bathroom to check for bruises, being thankful I didn’t have any, and went to work. At work, my first communication to him was to send a picture of me smiling from the top of a lift tower, hoping that would help him to forgive me. We agreed to talk when I got home. He justified his actions by repetitively telling me it wasn’t him and he doesn’t know what got into him. He sulked around the house for 2 days, showing how sorry he was. We didn’t talk about that night again for a long time, and whenever I would bring it up, the subject would change very fast. A few days after this incident, he left for work. He would be gone for a few weeks at a time for his job. I was sad about him leaving because it was about to be my birthday, which I hate celebrating, but he had convinced me to let him plan something for me. I don’t know what he had planned, but I knew it wouldn’t happen because he would be gone.

First photo sent to my abuser to try to convince him to stay in the relationship the morning after he physically assaulted me. No wonder my eyes are so red.

 

Six days after he physically assaulted me, I hit a mental low. I did not know how I could continue my life and I thought the only way out of my current situation was to end my life. To get out of the house, I decided to drive down the mountain to my favorite Pho restaurant to have a meal by myself. I went over to a store to look for work clothes. I walked into the store and within 30 seconds, walked out thinking, “What’s the point of spending money if you aren’t even going to be alive tomorrow.” I walked back to my car thinking about how I would end my life without harming anyone else in the process. I concluded that I would either drive my car off the side of the mountain, or jump off the rocks at a vista point in the mountains. My thoughts and calmness about it terrified me. So, I decided to reach out for one last lifeline. I called my abuser. I told him I was scared of what I was going to do and that I wanted to commit suicide. I told him I didn’t think I was worth breathing the air on this earth and that I felt there was no other way. He reminded me that he was up north for work, couldn’t come back down because his crew needed him. He said I needed to snap out of it. That it was my demons talking and that I needed to pull myself together until he got home in a few weeks. I begged him to come home, I told him multiple times how I was afraid to be alone. He told me he loved me, but that I knew he couldn’t come home. He kept saying I needed to snap out of it. He then had to go back to his crew and said he loved me. After we hung up I sat in my car and cried for a long time. I looked into the back seat to my dog and thought about his life without me. I knew he would not have the same life if I was not there. I also thought about my sister. I thought about how she would live every day of the rest of her life wondering how she could have stopped it. She would feel that pain forever. With those thoughts, I knew I could not go through with it. I knew I had to go home and treat the next day as a new day. So, I drove home, called my abuser to tell him I was home and continued on with my life. He never once tried to reach out to my sister, the police department, or any friends to ask them to check on me. I was so embarrassed about the physical assault that I was scared to reach out to anyone and have to tell them why I didn’t want to live anymore. The suicidal ideation continued until the day I decided to leave the relationship, which wouldn’t come for another 2 and a half years. 

 

Over the rest of our relationship there were more assaults, there were bruises, there were broken things around the house, and he would restrain me telling me it was for me own good. Some of it I remember details and other are a blur because I was in survival mode. I would go between submitting to the physical violence and fighting back. I hit him once. He had me pinned at the top of the stairs and I was so scared of what would happen if he threw me down them, so I slapped him. We didn’t talk often about the physical assaults, but if they came up he would remind me that I was the one who hit him. It was held over my head and I felt so guilty about it. Looking back now, I know it was in self-defense and I try to offer myself more forgiveness. We were both unhappy in the relationship at least 80% of the time, but kept trying to “make it work.” I never told a single person about the physical assaults until a few weeks after I left the relationship.