Don't you Dare Hit Me One More Time... Baby...

Originally posted THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 18, 2014

Edited for formatting April 22, 2015

Don't you Dare Hit Me One More Time... Baby... 

Welcome to the Four Seasons! Lovely weather we've been having.

Well...yes. Each individual day has been quite lovely indeed. We had a nice Fall day on Monday. Winter was in full swing on Tuesday. Yesterday we had a nice Spring breeze. And today is... hot ass Summer. 

While some may love this (and more power to 'em) weather that's all up and down and shit causes me pain. Really really bad pain... everywhere. Makes me crabby.

"It's sometimes better to be absent than to be bad company..."

 Yes. Yes it is. I've kept to myself most of today... because I'm a bit.... shall we say... bitchy. I'm in pain. I hurt... everywhere.  And needless to say I'm anxious today and thinking about things I don't want to remember.

…Things I’ve learned I have to let myself remember…

But... I've decided to use my anger for good today instead of evil. Instead of bothering people with my bitchiness, I've decided to write to speak up for women people who have been in my shoes.

I've decided to write something today in a style in which I don't normally use.

I'm going to write what happened... exactly as it happened. Not as a twizted tale... No creative liberties. Nothing allegorical (well, within reason...literalism isn’t really my strong-suit)

This is what happened to me... because shutting up and getting over it doesn't make it go away...

Domestic violence is everywhere, and we should never "shut up and get over it".

 *trigger warning*

The following is graphic and raw

 When I met Adrian* I was young and naive. I wasn't always very honest about things. I didn't know a damn thing about the real world.

At 21, I was essentially a child. Adrian was 8 years older than me, and maybe he just did a good job pretending, but to me he was this older and wiser guy who wanted to show me the world. 

And he did show me the world. He taught me a lot.  I wasn't always willing to learn what he wanted to teach me. But I'd eventually give in, and I'd realize how much of the world I had never untapped before. I wanted to learn more.

Adrian taught me to be the woman I always wanted to be. He helped to build me into a strong, independent woman who didn't need him anymore. 

Want him? Yes. 

Need him? No.

But then he changed. I realize now it may have had a lot to do with the idea that I was just as happy on my own as I was when I was with him. That confused him. Made him suspicious. He was convinced I had someone else. 

I was climbing a ladder and he didn't want to follow me. He didn't want me up there on my own either. 

What the fuck, Man?

After all that time, he became the weak-minded and naive partner. Dependent on me to show him the world. 

But everything I wanted to show him was up that damn ladder. 

The ladder he refused to climb. 

He kept pulling me off.

Ouch!
And before I knew it, he was hurting me physically too. A lot.

It started with small things. Lighters. Pens. Remote controls. 

Thrown at me. At my chest. At my face. 

Then the stuff got bigger and more dangerous.

Cans. Bottles. Silverware. Pans. Sets of keys.

Then it just got ridiculous.

Chairs. Tables. The vacuum. My laptop. Shovels. Buckets of dirt.

I've never hit you!

Not with your hand, you haven't.

But he did put his hands on me. On my throat. 

Around my throat. 3 times. 

3 times too many.

Picked me up and threw me against the wall. 

Pinched me until I bled.

Grabbed my wrists and twisted until I had bruises.

Pulled my hair.

Pushed me out our front door onto the porch and then locked me out.

He pretended to rape me (without penetration) before pushing my head into my headboard, spitting on me, and then leaving me to sit convulsing in terror in my own bedroom.

I've never hurt you!

You hurt me every day.

I've never hit you!

Not with your hand you haven't.

I've never laid a hand on you!

Yes you have.

Listen to yourself, you crazy bitch!. You're not making any sense! You just said I never laid a hand on you and then you turned it around. You're so fucking crazy!

And when I finally was able to kick him out of my life, I was happy. 

Very happy.

Until I realized my Rock was gone.

I don't mean Rock in a literal sense. Not like a ring or anything.

Adrian was my Rock for a long time. He was my family. My support base. 

He would be there to comfort me when I was crying because he had just slammed my head against the kitchen cabinets. 

I hated him for what he was doing to me. I hated how he kept me down.

But he was my Rock. And without my Rock I fell apart for awhile.

This makes no sense, but it's what happened.

And I never said anything...to anyone about it... until long after it was over...

I'm confused now. All the time.

*not his real name

It still hurts more than anyone will ever know or understand, but it's made me stronger than I ever thought possible. 

Domestic violence will always be around, but it's important that we know that we should NEVER be afraid to talk about it.

No matter what anyone says, domestic violence is not a private issue and we should never "shut up and get over it"

My loneliness ain't killing me no more. I'm stronger than yesterday. 

Don't you dare hit me one more time... Baby...