Just Wanted To Get This Off My Chest

I have been sticking my head out of the water trying to catch my breath while someone, something pulls me down...

Deeper and deeper.

I was lost. Sometimes I feel like I still am. Like I'm just now wandering out of a deep forest. Somehow I found a way out.

Its not the way I thought I was going. This was never in the books. I never wanted this. & like everything that I have ever loved, I tried EVERYTHING to keep it.

I don't know if this is the reason why I'm always losing what I love. I said something along the lines of, "It has to be me. I am the only common denominator."

But I've lost all that I thought I was.

I say, thought, because now that the forest is clearing. I can see that I was not even myself. I was living a lie. To appease a beast that could never be pleased. I was making a life for my future that was never in the cards.

I don't know who that girl was. I barely recognized her. Hollow eyes, skin and bones, fucking sad sack of shit making excuses for everyone who ran all over her because she loved them.

I'm glad I lost her. Somewhere in that forest she died, and I rose from her ashes. I will burn this forest to the fucking ground and replant the seeds of my future in its wake.

But I still feel the water. Its at my feet. Its shoving me into a great abyss. Its at my neck.

I'm scared. I worked so hard. I sacrificed so much.

Failure is no longer an option. Even if I'm just here out of spite. To spit in the face of those who doubted me. I will drink this ocean of water and spit every last drop in their faces!

On days when its quiet though, when I'm left with nothing but the awful memories in my head. All the mistakes I made, all the times I saw the signs but chose to ignore them, every time I said, "It's going to be fine. Things will change"

I cry.

But I'm being taught that things did change. The future is looking bright and clear. It wasn't what I thought it would be, but that's exactly what I needed.

When I look back and read these old posts. I remember that my whole fucking life I have just been looking for someone to accept me in all of my weird, crazy, fun, out-going, fucked-up-ness.

All I needed was to finally do for myself and not what everyone else around me wanted. To finally accept myself. To love myself enough to do what I needed.

Since then, everything has been in my favor. I still don't know how I got so lucky.

To be here. To be alive after everything. To NOT have given up even though I wanted to. To have met people who align with me.

I prayed for someone to come around and let me open up. I prayed for someone to let me, be me. I prayed for someone to let me come cry in their arms and say nothing. I prayed so hard for you.

I’m so happy to call you my husband. My life has never felt complete. Until you. Until Isabella and Felix joined our family. We may not be perfect, but you’re perfect for me. 

I don’t even know where to begin. 

My relationship had been on the rocks for quite a while. There were things coming into the light that neither of us liked. I loved him though. I was willing to prove it, to put everything aside and show that I wanted to be with him no matter what. I never thought that we would end up like this.

Our last 24 hours together was like a bad dream. A nightmare I couldn’t escape or wake up from. When I looked at him, I could barely see the man I loved behind those golden fiery eyes. He was someone else. Someone who did not love me. Someone from my worst nightmare.

What happened is long, and I’m honestly tired of repeating it, but I’ll let you in my mind. At first, when he started questioning me, and I soon realized that it didn’t matter how I answered, that he was going to hit me anyways. I gave in.  I gave him the answers he wanted, whether they were true or not. I thought if I gave him what he wanted, maybe he would stop. He didn’t.

The questioning got worse, his emotions were all over the place. He did some things to himself and he tried to reach out by sending pictures to his friends. Of course, everyone started freaking out. No one even knew I was with him. I was like a timid mouse being held in the corner by the mighty house cat. They tried to calm him down. They tried to help him. When he held me down and told me we were going out together while he cut my throat, I knew they were just adding fuel to the fire.

I hadn’t lost all hope yet. I thought to myself, he’ll calm down, he’ll go to sleep, and the next day he’ll realize that he was overreacting, that he’ll let me leave. So he did calm down, eventually. And we did sleep, well he did. About 5 hours later, when he awoke, when I thought it might finally be over. He showed me that it wasn’t. And the questioning started again. I thought to myself, this is it. I’m going to die in this house. 

He had cut me with the razor blade 4 more times, I didn’t know how I wasn’t feeling any pain. He told me to clean myself off, change my clothes, we were going to the liquor store. So I did. At this point, I’ve realized that if I don’t do exactly what he says, he’s gonna cut me or hit me. So we go get a bottle. And we drink it. The whole fifth. I don’t even feel drunk. How can two people drink a bottle together and I don’t even feel drunk?

We drove around town for what felt like forever, but probably was only a couple of hours. After almost crashing his truck, he made me drive. Aimlessly, at first, but eventually we were headed to Jackie’s house. She’s the only one he would really talk to you. Everyone else he just kinda cussed at and then hung up on. When someone pissed him off on the phone, I paid for it. As much as I wished we would’ve crashed or gotten pulled over, we didn’t. Surprisingly, I handled driving and getting punched in the face at the same time very well. 

Jackie’s house. I remember seeing it and thinking, “Oh my god. I might live through this.” She tried to help. She really did and I love her so much for just making the pain stop even a little bit. As much as I wanted her to save me, as much as I knew she couldn't, in a way I felt like she did because it was 10-15 minutes where I wasn’t getting hit and that meant so much to me. Poor Jackie, she was a mess. And after getting dragged out of her house by my hair and hit in the face in her living room. I’m sure she was worse than just a mess.

I will never step foot in another red truck for the rest of my life. The beatings were worse now. There were no questions. There were no breaks in between. Just hits to the face over and over again. I prayed he would knock me out. Shit, I prayed that the last punch would be the one to end my life. It never was. So now, we were on our way to his mom’s house. He was going to kill me. She just got a .38 snub nose after her house got broken into in July. His exact words, “You know where we’re at, right? This is it. Are you ready?” And I said, “I know where we’re at. I’m ready.” I wasn’t lying. I was ready to die. I was ready for it to be over. I didn't care how, I just wanted the pain to stop.

He had the gun pointed at me and said, “Get in the fucking truck.” I didn’t even hesitate, I didn’t cry or whimper. I just dragged my feet to the door. Thats when it went off. My ears were ringing, I screamed but didn’t run. I just backed up to the kitchen where I was. He went outside. And like a fucking angel, Bonnie saved my life. She slammed the door and told me to run downstairs. So I did. My adrenaline was at an all time high. This was my chance to get away. I didn’t have to die.

I’m not a stupid person. Never was. So I weighed my options. He could go around the house and come through the back door, so I stayed by the stairs. When I heard his voice upstairs talking to his mother, I didn’t even try to listen. I felt my way through the dark and as quietly as I could, unlocked the back door. I hauled ass after that. I have never felt so happy to be running in the middle of the night, with no shoes, in the mud and dirt, and bushes, hopping fences and trying to keep my breathing under control so I wasn’t being loud. I stopped, and hid for a second. That’s when I heard the gunshot and his mother screaming.

I didn’t know what happened. I was still in super stealth mode. I wasn’t ready to die. I was ready to do whatever I needed to survive this. When I saw the police lights, that’s when I came out. Everything was a blur of police lights and repeating the last 24 hours. That’s when I found out what he had did. I know its not my fault. But it will always be a heavy burden on my heart. I loved him. I loved him with every piece of my being. I wish I could’ve helped him. 

I never knew I would live through my worst nightmare. I didn’t know how strong I could be in such tragedy. Life has a fucked up way of letting you know. 

24 stitches, a fractured nose, and bruises all over.