In reading through some of my blog entries, I've realized that the majority of my life experiences have stemmed off my interactions with a few specific people. They have been the people I've been closest to, cared the most about, or spent the most time around. I actually had this pointed out to me this morning by yet another person I love and care about. He says that a lot of my writings are saying the same things, just in different ways. I've come to see, that sometimes, that can't be helped. These ARE my experiences, and they sometimes happen to involve the same people. Luckily, I'm not forcing anyone to read what I write, so it's a personal choice for someone to take the time to read it.
This topic is a sore spot for me, since I've been through a lot in my life. I've seen and been through some foulness that I wouldn't wish on another human being. I can say there are a few people during my 35 years on this earth that have made my life a living hell and treated me like shit. I've even written about a couple of them before. One of them stands out the most though, as far as having gone through the most trouble with, and that would be Tony.
I met Tony during a time I'd been separated from my husband. It wasn't a "legal" separation so to speak, but we hadn't seen each other in quite some time, and his visits to see me and our son had become non-existent. We'd been evicted from our home and he decided he wanted to go back and live at his mother's. I had, however, already "been there, done that, and got the T-shirt". There was no way I was going to live under his mother's roof again. Let's just say, she wasn't always the friendliest to "that white bitch her son married". So, I was living with my best friend Michelle when I met Tony. Her husband was a painter and worked on the same job with Tony. I remember the first time I saw him. I thought he was a good looking man. I also noticed the 2 extremes of my choice in men. Here I was married to a black man still, and looking at one of the most redneck males to ever hit the earth. Tony looked at me like I was the best thing out there. He wouldn't take his eyes off of me that first day. Michelle and I had driven to the job site in a car I was test driving. We were taking it over there to let's Michelle's husband take a look at it.....and there was Tony.
He was dirty and covered in paint over spray, but he was definitely a ruggedly sexy kind of man. I got out of the car after popping the hood for Mike (Michelle's husband) and heard the loudest whistle I'd ever heard. "Damnnnnnnn look at all those legs on you!" If I'm not badly mistaken, those are the first words I ever heard Tony say to me. I was semi-embarrassed by it for some reason, and could feel the heat rising on my cheeks. Back then, I was a serious blusher. (Today, it would take an act of Congress to make me blush. I rarely do it anymore.lol). Mike and Tony made plans for Tony to come hang out with us at Michelle's (where I was also living). What started out as something that was more than likely going to be just a possible "hook up", ended up being a 7 year relationship. He came that weekend and never left basically. LOL.
I'd been honest and told him that I was still currently married, but just was separated, and that the marriage was on its way out. He told me he was also actually still legally married, but they weren't "together" anymore either. It turns out that that, wasn't true at all. He stayed that entire weekend at Michelle's with us, and then when he tried to return to his own home, he'd been tossed out on his ear. (His belongings had already started finding their way outside into the yard, if I'm not badly mistaken) Soooooooo, back to Michelle's he had come, and there it was....the beginning of the end!
I've had my eyebrow split open from flying cordless phones being hurled at me, knives stabbed into the furniture close to some part of my body as I sat on them, and could have lost a baby one time because I didn't even know I was pregnant before that attack. I've been dragged from a vehicle onto a dirt road, and stomped into the ground like he would fight a man. I've been covered in bruises from head to toe, so bad that they far surpassed anything anyone has ever seen on television. Through all this, I stayed. I stayed because somehow, in my own mind, I thought it was my fault. Somehow, I'd come to believe I deserved everything that was happening to me...and most of all, I was scared to death to leave.
(During those years, I had many people tell me how stupid I was. I wasn't stupid at all. I am now, and always have been a quite intelligent human being. I was scared. People who have never experienced domestic violence shouldn't really ever speak on it. Too many people pass judgement when they have no clue what they're talking about. Living like that, it's like being brainwashed. Hell, before it ever happened to me, I was adamant that no one would ever treat me in such a way. Then I found myself trapped in that lifestyle for over 12 years. It's VERY hard to get away from, and SOME people aren't as lucky as I was. Some women, never make it out alive. In that respect, I am quite lucky....and for me, I wouldn't trade the experience. I know that will sound crazy to some.)
I put up with the craziness for about 6 years....until one night, in a drunken rage...he woke up our 3 year old who was asleep down the hall. I went to comfort her and get her back to sleep, and left him standing in the kitchen. Now, in all those years, the kids had never actually SEEN him do a thing to me. This particular night, he came strolling down the hall with a butcher knife in his hand, heading for the bedroom I was in. I saw him, and then I saw that knife, and all I can say is that something inside of me "snapped". (I've had it told to me, that that was the instant my motherly instincts kicked in. I hadn't cared enough to protect myself all those years, but knowing he was about to bring his BS in front of my child was all it took to finally stand up and end the shit from happening ever again). My normal reaction to him would have been to cower, slink away, or run. That ISN'T the reaction he got that night. I had changed completely in that instant. I told him to bring it on. I asked him "wtf he thought he was going to do with that knife". I told him if it made him a man to harm his child's mother right in front of her, then to go right ahead, but to make sure he killed me when he did it. I explained to him that he didn't want to leave me alive in that house that night, because what he found waiting when he came back, would not be good for him. The knife dropped to his side, and a string of expletives rushed forth from his mouth. I bet you he called me every name in the book all at one time that night. He told me I was crazy as fuck (to which I replied, "yep, crazy to have tolerated this shit for all this time") and turned on his heel to go....but not before he mustered up a nice fat ball of spit and phlegm. He stood there hocking that thing up and I knew he intended to spit on me. He turned, and spit right in my face. I wiped it away with the heel of my hand, and asked if he was done. He walked away that night...different than he'd ever been, because he knew at that moment, that I was no longer the person I'd been. He no longer had control, and he KNEW it. We stayed together about a year longer after that (violence free), but it eventually came to an end.
He and I created 2 beautiful little girls together, and I'll always be grateful to him for that. Without him, those kiddos wouldn't be here. He's gotten his act together, quit drinking, and actually holding down a steady job. (Hell, he's doing a ton better than I even am at this point. Pfffft!) A lot has changed since I went through all this stuff with him. I am no longer that woman that will put up with anything and everything that gets thrown her way. I won't tolerate being talked down to. I am now A LOT stronger BECAUSE of what I went through with him, so when I say I wouldn't trade a minute of what happened to me....I MEAN IT. It stinks that I had to go through some horrible things to become who I am today, but to me, it's worth it to not be that weakling I used to be.
I may have been through hell, but I look at it this way....I fought with the devil....and I won.
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