My ex loved to poke me in the chest and shove me. I guess I didn’t consider that abuse. I didn’t have black eyes and broken bones. Just bruises on my chest. But it escalated. Went from poking and showing and throwing things to hitting.
I did leave him after two years in California and went back to my parents. I had two kids by then my son who was five and my daughter who was two. My parents weren’t supportive and his mother sent him a ticket to go back to NY because I had come back. With no support system I returned to California with him. I didn’t know at the time, but he was having an affair with friend. They were friends that came over to our house often. Didn’t see it or maybe didn’t really care.
Shortly after we became involved with an evangelical church and I thought god was going to save me. He didn’t. I was pregnant again. and things were Ok for awhile. then it happened again, pregnancy that is. I considered abortion, but being this newborn Christian, I decided against it. One turned into two. So I had three children under the age of 18 months.
Well the “friend” returned into our life with her new husband. They became our great friends. They had small children my twins age so it was good. Good until I found out she had an affair years before with my husband. I felt so betrayed. Needless to say things did not go well after that. One time we got into it and he became more than just poking and shoving. He had me in a corner on the floor, kicking me and spit in my face. God only knows why I didn’t leave. I guess because I had no where to go with five kids the youngest being maybe 18 months old.
He lost his job again and found one in LA. I didn’t move with him but stayed behind and found a job. It was crazy with five kids and with child care, but I felt free. But without support, no parents, no siblings, no relatives I felt overwhelmed.
My mother had died right after the twins were born. Such a shock and I was still in my twenties. Then my Dad died two years and ahalf years later. I was done. This couldn’t be happening.
I moved back to NY and lived in my fathers house with the five kids. It was a small house so it was a bit crazy. I felt extremely sad and lonely and now I had no parents. So after six months I moved back to California. I figured I could survive in California sunshine easier than freezing in NY.
But I did have my own money. thinking that without the pressures of money, maybe give it another try. Still hadn’t got it thru my head that this was not going to work. And it didn’t. I guess I was terrified of being alone and he was my only family. And I did so want my family to be together.
I finally returned to college. I loved it. I bought the girls to the child development center on campus. But he was jealous. Started a fight over the dishwasher!!! I wanted me to hand wash the dishes and not waste the energy on the dishwasher. He wound up smashing the big oak chairs on my big thick oak table and breaking the walnut legs. He also proceeded to punch my arm black and blue holding down on the table. He left and went to work. I was a mess. When he returned that night, I couldn’t believe he had the nerve to just waltz in. I called the police. they came. I was hysterical and he told them some story and they took me to county mental health!! I was the crazy one. The cop looked at my bruising arm and realized what I had been saying was true and waited for me at county and drove me home and made him leave, I filed a restraining order the next day and filed for divorce.
I wish I could say that it was the end. It wasn’t.