Once upon a time……… isn’t that how most Fairy-tale’s begin? Well, my “love-life” had been far from a fairy-tale. In high school, I had one boyfriend that lasted my freshman and sophomore year. We broke up during the middle of my sophomore year so unfortunately, I ended up single my junior and senior year. I never had a problem making friends, just getting a boyfriend. I’m convinced that it was because I was considered a “good girl”, you see I stayed out of trouble, loved school, never smoked, never drank or took drugs. But above all, I behaved myself when it came to boys. Hence my “good-girl” image.
My mama raised me right, she raised all of my siblings right as well. When I graduated from high school in 1979, I decided to work instead of going to college. I had received my cosmetology license while in high school so I was able to pursue my hairdressing career at the time. I had been out of high school for about a year when a girlfriend talked me into going to Mickey Gilley’s Nightclub (yes, the one and only) in Pasadena, Texas. It was there that on May 22, 1980, I met my now ex-husband. You see, I was 19 and he was 31, yep you are correct he was 13 years older than me!
My mother tried to talk me out of the relationship, but I thought I knew it all and married him 4 months later. Nope, I wasn’t pregnant just stupid! I was in love with the idea of being in love. We were two years into the marriage when I became pregnant with my now 35-year-old son. I must say, to this day he is the only blessing that came out of that marriage.
My little man, taken in 1986.
He’s all grown up!
It was early on in our marriage that I knew my (ex)husband had a drinking problem, but when you’re young and impressionable. You don’t really understand that there is an issue. But looking back now, I realize that it was the beginning of my denial. I was subjected to almost daily verbal abuse, but only when he was drinking. When he wasn’t drinking the relationship was tolerable. When my son was 3 years old we moved from Pasadena, where my family lived to Louisiana where work was taking my (ex)husband. I too worked while living in Louisiana and being away from home was the only normalcy that I had.
Sadly the verbal abuse eventually became my normal. Always being told that I was no good, that I couldn’t take care of a house and could never take care of a man and that I was pretty much worthless. This actually started when I was pregnant. I remember being about 8 months pregnant, he was drunk and yelling at me to get out, he yelled that being pregnant was all I wanted anyway. I remember always being unhappy and scared. But I remember that voice inside of me letting me know that it wouldn’t last forever. That my abusive marriage wouldn’t last forever.
I would come home from work and I would never know where in the house he would be passed out. It’s like I was living this nightmare that I couldn’t wake up from. I moved out twice, taking my son and a few of our things. We would move back to Texas from Louisiana. Then he would call and tell me everything that I wanted to hear, so we would move back.
The abuse was never physical, only verbal. But it cut deep into my core. I was beginning to believe that I was the person he was making me out to be. The breaking point finally came when our son at four years old had accidentally pulled a 25 inch TV onto himself. I remember running into the bedroom where he was on the floor with the TV and chest of drawers on top of him. Since the TV was sitting on top, everything fell on top of my child. I kept screaming for my (ex)husband to come and help me but he was too busy sitting in his recliner drinking. He just yelled back to me to take care of things myself. I was able to lift the TV and chest of drawers off of him and carry him to the bed. I could clearly tell that something was wrong with his leg. I practically had to beg my (ex)husband to come and look at his leg. When he finally came in the room, he told me that there wasn’t anything wrong with his leg and then he proceeded to bend his little leg up and down as my little baby cried out in pain.
I told him that I was taking him to the emergency room. Not surprisingly he declined to go with me. As it turned out, his leg was broken. I remember calling him from the emergency room, but he never answered. He had passed out. That was my turning point. I remember the day I told him we were moving out for the third and final time. It was over the phone. There was no argument.
We had been married for eight long years. To this day I will sarcastically say that I was in a “coma” for eight years because I barely remember that young woman that dealt with what she did for all of those years. There were so many other circumstances that I had never told anyone about to this day.
My son and I moved back to Texas and into my older sisters’ home. We lived with her for a few months until I was able to get on my feet. I learned to love myself again, and I found my worth. I now know that everything that I went through was what I needed to go through to make me the strong independent woman that I am today. If there was anything positive that I can say about my ex is that he never faltered from paying child support.
I’m am overwhelmed with pride, of the man my son has become. He’s such a wonderful husband, father, friend and son. I’m so grateful for the love and support that I had and still do receive from my family.
If you or anyone you know is in an abusive relationship, whether, verbal, physical or both. Please know that you or they are never alone. Help and assistance are only a phone call away. Please contact The National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) or online at http://www.thehotline.org
