Where Have I Been Lately?!?!

Lost.

I have had literally the craziest turn of events in the past few weeks that I’ve even had to take a step back from blogging. Now of course (since I’m a happy go lucky person) I try to make the best out of every situation because hey I’m alive! So, what has happened? Let me fill you in…

First:

HOMELESS

I was forcibly evicted A.K.A. kicked out of my place. No two weeks noticed, no warning, literally told to “pack my sh*t and GET THE F*CK OUT”. Now, if it were just me I’d say “fine, I can live on my friend’s couch until I figure things out” but oh that’s right… I have a TODDLER. So, the whole couch potato thing is just out of the question.
Second:

CAR-LESS

Now it’s one thing to not have a place to stay, which is stressful enough, but to also have the only source of transportation taken from you seems to add on extra stress onto an already stressful situation… Did I mention it’s stressful?
Third:

JOB-LESS

Now this one, is half true. I do have a “job” but it is minimum wage and it’s “part time”. Which basically means part of the time you will be scheduled to work, MOST of the time you will not.
Now, while all of this is taking place let’s not forget I’m a full-time( 19-unit) college student and a single mom to a two-year-old. You might be wondering; how do I remain sane through all of this?
Honestly, I have no clue. I don’t know if it’s the constant “everything will be okay” pep talk I have to recite, or the simple fact that I’m happy to at least be alive and in some what good health… or maybe a combination of both. Whichever it is, it’s working. I haven’t spiraled into a deep dark depression, I haven’t given up on everything and lost hope, I haven’t cussed out those who forcibly evicted me and a toddler with no place to go, I simply kept going.

If you are like me and your life has recently made a 360 turn into Crazy Town, then here are some things that have helped me to get through this short “bump” (more like Mount Everest) in the road.

1. Accept change

This I feel is the hardest, so I must address this first. No, I won’t have the same room back that I decorated to fit my personality. No, I won’t have a nice car (or any car for that matter) for a while to take me to and from. No, I won’t have the luxury of not having to stress over how to afford my next meal again. All of it is gone. Yet, that’s okay! In order to truly keep going in life you must accept change, even when you perceive that change as “bad” “awful” “horrible” *insert another negative adjective that comes to your head* Change, no matter what kind, is good.

2. Keep going

Although my life took this huge turn into the unexpected, life didn’t stop. Bills didn’t stop. School didn’t stop. Day care payments didn’t stop. Assignments didn’t stop. Due dates didn’t stop. Nothing stopped. So, why should I? Therefore, neither should you! Yes, things have changed, yes things are different than they were before, yet that doesn’t mean you must stop. You have to keep moving. I could have just said “I’m done with life” and decided to drop out of college, stop paying my bills and fall into debt, pulled my toddler out of daycare hindering her ability to learn and socialize, quit my job and be broke and completely give up. Yet as you all may know, that will only increase your problems and leave you even far worse than where you started from.

3. Stay focused

With everything that has gone on, I found it extremely hard to focus. It seemed as if I was constantly moving, always doing school work, taking tons of notes from class, completing assignments, yet wasn’t productive? I felt as if I was reading chapter after chapter for class yet wasn’t retaining the material? I realized I needed to focus. Focus plays a key role in conquering anything. I started to take at least three minutes out of the day to do absolutely nothing. No phone. No TV. No laptop. Nothing. Just simply breathing. Take that time to truly focus, think about things that are positive, that make you happy, think about how you are alive, how you will get through this, hell think of French fries and unicorns if that’s what makes you happy!

4. Make a plan

Now with everything going downhill, you’ve hit rock bottom. Great thing about hitting rock bottom is there’s only one way to go… and that’s up! So, make a plan! It doesn’t have to be a ten year, color-coded, alphabetized strategic detailed plan of how you are going to become a trillionaire overnight, solve world hunger, and stop global warming. Yet make a weekly plan, if a week seems too far fetch make a daily plan! Write down an idea of what you plan to accomplish for the day. Brainstorm ideas of how you are going to move forward, whether that be apply for at least five jobs a day, sell some of the things you no longer need to get some cash flowing in, enroll in schooling (if you aren’t already), anything! Little steps are all it takes to start a big journey!

Regardless of the obstacles life throws at you, you can and will get through them.

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Both of My Ex-Boyfriend’s Family’s KNEW About the Abuse!!! (PART TWO)

Now, we left off with how my (first) ex’s family did nothing to prevent the abuse, unfortunately my second ex’s family was no different. Here’s his family in a nutshell…


  • His father, made lots of money, never cooked, never cleaned, was the “man” (A.k.a BOSS) of the household, and had a tragic upbringing. His mother died during his birth and father died when he was five years old. He was stuck being raised (abused) by his grandmother and his grandmother’s boyfriend. He would endure beatings, live with a strict excuse for a “father figure” and decided to flee his home country to find a better life in the United States once he met my ex’s mother.
  • His mother, had her first child at 16 by a previous man, never knew her own father, had a hard upbringing as well. Met my ex’s father at 17 (he was 23), instantly “fell in love” with him and they both moved to the United States. His mother worked mainly in factory jobs, cooked, cleaned, took care of their children, followed every barking order the father gave out. She drank heavily, (almost every single day) had many sad drunken nights where she would cry and confess how she never knew her father and wish she had a dad growing up. My ex’s parents also weren’t married because (these are his father’s exact words)

 “I’ll never marry you, unless your mother is dead. When that b*tch dies, then maybe I’ll marry you”

What a great “father” right?

  • His oldest brother from a previous man, was neglected. My ex’s mother dedicated her entire life to my ex’s father. She sadly chose a “man” over her child. His older brother soon turned to alcohol at the age of 13, gang affiliation, and his ultimate downfall… drugs. He had mental illness and the drugs of course, didn’t make it any better. He soon became homeless and was put into rehab after rehab. Nothing, even to this day, has helped keep him clean. He is currently in prison for “Breaking and Entering” and “Possession of Narcotics”
  • His older brother, had it worse of the children in the household. Being the first born, first to experience his father’s beatings, once so badly as a child that the mother had to call the police, sadly she changed her story once the police arrived to protect her “man”. His older brother was smart though, he decided to join the military at 18 and never lived back with his parents again. He married and they are currently living a happy life. Good for him!
  • His younger sister was a teenager still in high school. She sadly follows every bark that my ex would yell at her, she was sweet yet also very shy. She was highly insecure of herself, her looks, her weight. Always comparing herself to a celebrity wishing she had the same things they had. She was too shy to stand up for herself, to say no, and unfortunately may fall into the arms of someone like her father one day, or even worse.

In looking back at my life, I noticed a pattern, not only were they both abusive towards me. They both had similar upbringings.

  • Father was “in charge” (more like controlling)
  • Mother/females in household were treated “lesser” than the men
  • Mother/females in household were expected to do everything when told to

So, of course when my ex would yell commands at me, make fun of me in front of company, take all my money, throw temper tantrums, and still expect me to make his plate during dinner time, fold his laundry, and drive him around, there his family was…

Doing absolutely nothing.

 I noticed that his barking commands behavior towards his sister was similar to how he would treat me.

“Get me something to drink!”

“Make me something to eat!”

“Give me the remote, we are watching what I want to watch”

“You aren’t wearing that!” (Yes, he would even tell his younger sister what to wear)

I, since I had just been treated awful months prior to our “relationship”, would tell him “stop talking to her like that!” or “why are you so mean to her?”. It’s funny how I could notice when he is disrespecting others, yet when he would disrespect me I would let it “slide”, would act as if it was “no big deal”, and make excuses for his behavior over and over again. He would never listen to me and would shun his behavior off with “it’s just how we are” or “you’re just sensitive you don’t get it”.

His mother sadly did the same. She would stand by and watch when he would throw his temper tantrums, throw things, punch walls, and storm off in the car leaving me behind at his house. (My car had broken down on the way back from a trip with him which I will create another post about soon! Be on the lookout) so that was his secret weapon. He would make sure that I was either stranded at his house so that his family would know my every move or left on the side of the freeway to find a way back home… whichever he found convenient.

Now his father, he acted as if he was truly blind to it all. He literally saw his son’s behavior as something that was “normal” and even worse, “expected”. He expected him to be the “boss” to tell me what I can or can’t do. So, the day he dropped me and my daughter off on the side of the freeway and I was back at their home later that afternoon all his father said to me was…

“Don’t be sad.”

Don’t be sad? Are you kidding me? Not, “Oh I’m going to teach my son to do better.” Not “ I’m sorry that my son is an asshole for doing that to you and your baby.”

Just a “Don’t be sad.”

I’m not sad alright, I’m pissed!

After living through the nightmare of being in yet another abusive relationship with family members who would brush off the things that were said and done to me I began to realize the reasoning’s behind it all.

They are all victims themselves.

Now by all means them being victims does not (I repeat, does NOT!) excuse their behavior, it explains it. I have found that in order to grow as a person, in order to truly mend, and start to move forward you have to find answers. When you find the reasons behind why someone did something and accept their actions for what they were it makes it so much easier to finally move on and let them destroy their own lives. Holding resentment, holding a grudge, hating the person for what they did will only hinder your journey in truly healing and moving forward.

Although yes, I was angry at both of my abuser’s families, I was heartbroken, I was depressed, I felt defeated, worthless, and felt like those two excuses for “men” wasted a huge chunk of my early adult life I truly realized something that made this healing process begin…

They are the ones suffering, they are the ones insecure, they are the ones depressed, defeated, and feeling worthless.

As the old saying goes, “hurt people, hurt people”. Which is very true. I can never turn back time and stop what was done to me, yet I can move and grow from it. I can take what happened to me and turn it into a positive situation to truly help others around me just like anyone else who has been hurt before.

Yet those two families, my two ex-abusers, they sadly will never change. They will never progress and move forward in life and change their abusive ways and that’s their choice. They have the same chance to take what they’ve been through and change their life around yet sadly they won’t, they choose to hate others, to hurt others, to stand by while others are being hurt. They will continue to find new victims, to hurt people, to by-stand and do nothing while others are being hurt. And that is sad.

I only had to deal with them for months and months, yet they have to live with themselves for their entire life, literally.

Both of My Ex-Boyfriend’s Family’s KNEW About the Abuse!!! (PART ONE)

Yes, sad as it sounds, this is true. In both situations (my first abuser and second) both families knew about the abuse yet, did absolutely nothing. This awful incident not only happened with my first ex but also my second. Talk about a double whammy! This story is so insane that I had to break them into to two parts. So, stay tuned for part two!

Let’s start with my first ex, the other half of my daughter’s genetic makeup.

His family background wasn’t “picture perfect”.

His father made all the money, controlled his mother’s every move…

“You can’t go anywhere in my car without telling me first.”

“You’re not wearing that.”

“You’re not going out with your friends!” “You aren’t spending my money on that, you are spending it on what I think you’ll look good in.”

Not only did his father “run the show”, he also drove a Lexus, brought in around $5,500 a month, and since they were cheating the system, their Section 8 rent was only $180 for their three-bedroom home. So that $5,500 stretched a long way… so I thought. The father would lock his money up in a bedroom safe… and to make matters worse the house was… broken.  Not the physical house itself, but the people and things inside.

Broken, manipulated, defeated.

The house had no food, barely any silverware, yet a huge flat screen TV? The father kept a mini-fridge in his bedroom full of food. Sadly, like a beggar on the street, I would see my ex or his siblings sneak into the bedroom when the dad was at work to grab a small bite of food from the mini-fridge. “Family dinners” were non-existent and the father would only give the mother $50 to buy groceries that he liked so that she could cook him something for that evening.

The house was filled with emptiness including the “family” who resided inside.


  • His mother, (49 years old) had no Driver’s License, a gambling problem, no job, no car (she had sold hers for money… to gamble and lose all in the same night), and no social life. This woman could drink alcohol for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. His father and mother weren’t married because (these are her exact words) “I wasn’t about to have his income mess up my welfare”
  • His older brother, (30 years old) a dr*g dealer, made enough money to obviously not live in their household anymore… Hell, I don’t blame him!
  • His older sister, (26 years old, a rape victim from her mother’s negligence as she left her in the hands of many viscous monsters while she gambled the small amount of welfare she collected. Also, a victim of domestic violence. She would tell stories of how her ex “V” would beat her, look through her phone, stalk her, even hurt her so badly that she had a miscarriage of their child-to-be and may never be able to have children again. (She had told me these horror stories during the second time I met her, explaining the abuser’s name tattooed on her shoulder) She never graduated high school, never worked at a real job for longer than a week and a half. Never truly had or met any goals in her life. Still lived at home with her parents, with no plans of ever moving out. Can’t go more than an hour without smoking her lungs away.
  • His younger sister (12 years old), a fragile soul, quiet, very sweet. Yet in her eyes I could tell that she has witnessed it all.

When I first moved in I could tell right away that something was off. They were almost “too welcoming” “too nice”. Little did I know that they saw me as their son’s “meal ticket”.

A young 18-year-old smart college girl, goals, promising future. That was more than enough to get their monstrous son out of the house. A son who has never worked (at the age of 22), barely graduated high school, $30,000 in debt to a vocational college that he’ll never use the fifteen month degree he obtained.

(I didn’t know any of this coming into the relationship or else I would have run for the hills!)

Okay now back to the bystanders… As the time went on with me living there, every time my ex would yell at me, hit me, rip my things up, punch walls, throw my things out, tell me to “leave” yet the second I head out of the house scream, “You’re actually going to leave me? How could you do that you f*cking b*tch!” one thing was always the same…

His family would always be there, by-standing, never saying a word. Witnessing the entire thing go down, without doing anything to prevent it.

They would never stop him, never say what he was doing was wrong. I remember his father telling me,

“Y’all are grown! This is what grown folks go through!”

Those words still to this day make my heart ache. This is not what “grown folks” go through! It hurt me deeply because I had nobody to turn to, his “parents” obviously weren’t going to help me. I always saw “parents” as those who were meant to protect yet all his parents did was enable, by-stand, and neglect.

Throughout all the things my ex put me through his parents never did anything about it. His mom would say,

“Well what did you do to make him angry?” “Well you should have done XYZ instead of ABC.”

It was always a way to flip everything he had done onto me. Looking back, I realize why…

She, was a victim of abuse as well.

Having a controlling, unloving, boyfriend (since they never married) for over 20 years. Being told what to do, what to wear, when to jump, how high to jump, what to cook, how much to clean, for years! I learned that not only did my ex’s father cheat on his mother (he would even bring my ex and his older sister with him to places with the mistress, what a scumbag), he also had previous children that he would neglect and never take care of. To flee his child support payments, he even moved to a whole different state… to find his new victim, my ex’s mother.

Although she stood by and never tried to stop her son at the end of the day I actually am the one who feels sorry for her. I’ve learned through constant research, analyzation, and through my own self experiences that she is just like me, a victim. Sadly, instead of escaping, she turned to alcohol and gambling to ease the pain of her “relationship”. She brought children into the world with this “man” who never loved her, never cared for her, and never treated her with the respect she deserved. She saw the violence I endured day after day, the arguing, the damaging of items as the “norm” due to her past with this “man” who continued to treat her badly over and over again.

I only had to endure the mistreating’s of my ex for seven months, she has had to deal with this “man” for over twenty years of her life. That’s almost half of her entire life dealing with a monster disguised as a “man” a “father” a “provider”.

Although I will never forget his mother or sisters standing by while I was being mistreated, I do forgive them. I’m not excusing their by-standing behavior yet explaining the reasoning behind it. They are victims of abuse themselves. They are victims that sadly will never leave their abuser, who will continue to stand by and enable the one who claims to “love them” hurt them repeatedly, who will continue to endure the pain and hurt for the rest of their lives, just like my second abuser’s family….

Part Two coming soon! Stay tuned…

My Boyfriend Found a Condom Under Our Bed… And We DON’T Use Condoms

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My stomach dropped.

My heart racing out of my chest. A gold Magnum condom wrapper, opened. Empty. Laid underneath my bed. I didn’t know what to say, I didn’t know what to do. I just stood there with this “Deer in headlights” look on my face. My boyfriend staring at me, rage and disbelief in his eyes.

Now, let’s backtrack.

When I met my boyfriend, I was a second semester Freshman in college. I met him on the second day of Spring Break vacation. I lived in the dorms. Of course, living in the dorms there were parties, beer pong battles, twerk offs, you name it! I lived in what was known as the “party hall”. I myself wasn’t necessarily the “party girl” but, my roommate was! She loved to go out and meet new people every day, loved to go out and party every night… so much so that she ended up having to drop out of college second semester! During the time my roommate was enrolled in school, I made lots of friends just from association.

“Oh, you know *insert one of the numerous nicknames my roommate had*, come hang with us!”

“You’re B******’s roommate? You’re definitely invited, come through!”

My roommate is how I made about 95% of my friends in college. Although she herself was the a piece of work (maybe I’ll make a post about that her and her shenanigans later, stay tuned) I forever thank her for introducing me to all the people I met throughout my first semester in college, all the experiences I created, and breaking out of my “shy shell”.

Okay, now back to the condom.

So, one Tuesday afternoon when I had a long three-hour break in between classes my first semester, an upper classman who we will refer to as “T” wanted to come over. I had met T at a party, (that my roommate took me to of course). I had noticed him smiling and staring at me from across the dark, loud, and crowded room. That night he came over to me and gave me his number and we had hung out at the Dining Commons (fancy word for college dorm room cafeteria) a few times after that. I thought he was so sexy with such a nice smile and goofy personality.  He came over to my dorm during my break period, thankfully my roommate was gone. We chatted and before you know it, we were making out. One thing lead to another and Wah Bam!

[cue love making music]

After our afternoon “Study Session”, we frantically put our clothes back on and tried to freshen up not knowing when my roommate might return. As he put his clothes on he tells me “I can’t find the wrapper?” We both laughed about it and I told him that it was fine, it’ll pop up eventually. Hopefully at the end of my first year here during Move Out Week with my parents helping me move my stuff out of the dorms! We both laughed at the thought of how embarrassed I would have been, got dressed, and headed out.

*Fast Forward to 7 months later*

The second semester of college was coming to an end. After being in a relationship with my boyfriend for about two months now, it was time to move out of the dorms. Summer was approaching. He insisted that I move in with him.

“You won’t have to pay rent.”

“You won’t have to be three hours away living with your parents.”

“We won’t have to be separated.”

“You can be together with me at all times!”

His controlling abusive behavior had already started yet I was too naïve to notice the red flags right away, like him wanting me to move in with him already after two months of being together.

It was Move Out Week and time for me to take all my stuff out of the dorms. My parents knew I wouldn’t be moving back with them in the summer so they decided not to make the three hour drive to lend a helping hand. We began emptying my desk, my closet, boxing up all my items. Empyting out all my dresser drawers, returning the dorm room back into the egg shell white room it was before I moved in.

My boyfriend begins to grab the totes that are under my bed when it happened.

Underneath my bed, opened, empty, was a gold wrapper. A Magnum condom wrapper.

My boyfriend immediately closes the door that was being held open by my trash can, so nobody can hear what was about to happen next.

“What the f—k is this?” “Who did you cheat on me with?” “I knew you cheated on me! Just tell the truth! Who did you cheat on me with!” “I knew you would be cheating on me instead of going to school! You are such a f—ing hoe!”

He was screaming at me, telling me how he knew I was a cheater. How he should have never trusted me, how he regrets even meeting me.

He’s throwing all the things we just spent an hour and a half boxing, out of the box, throwing plastic totes yelling at me telling me how he can’t believe I cheated on him and finally leaves into the hallway.

I, of course, chase after him.

He was my first boyfriend, I didn’t want to “lose him” especially since I knew I never cheated on him and that this was all a huge misunderstanding.

I repeatedly kept telling him over and over that I didn’t cheat…that the condom wasn’t from when we were together!

Being nervous I even began to lie, “I don’t know where it came from”. Even though I did know where it came from, even though it was from me.

I felt that no matter what I said he was angry and not going to believe me.


Long story short, he went crazy, smoked an entire pack of cigarettes in the dorm parking lot as I continued to plead my case over and over again. Then the strangest thing happened, we came back inside.

It was so strange that although he just had went crazy on me minutes earlier (for the first time), he returned back to “normal” and continued to help me pack up my stuff and moved me into his house that day. He went about his business as if none of it had happened, as if he didn’t go on a rampage, as if the condom incident had never occurred. For some odd reason I started to blame myself for what happened and thank him for even “letting me stay with him” after all of this. As if I was the one who did “something wrong”. That whole day I felt as if I were walking on egg shells, avoiding saying anything that might make him think about the dorm room incident again.

Throughout our entire toxic “relationship” this situation is the number one thing that whenever he would hit me, choke me, break my things, rip up my clothes, slap me, he would always come back to to use as his number one excuse.

“But you cheated me! I saw the condom!”

“I looked through your text messages while you were sleeping because you cheated on me! We both saw the condom!”

“You deserve me slapping you because you slept with another dude! Don’t make me tell everyone (referring to his family who also lived with us) about the condom!”

I can be 100% honest with you all…. I never cheated on him, although now looking back, I wish I had. I wish I had secretly found someone else to rescue me away from the long dangerous journey that was ahead for me, to steer me clear from a monster.

Yet, sadly I never did.

From this condom incident, I realized something very important, that can relate to all kinds of relationships.

What you do before a relationship is before a relationship.

If your partner or someone you are dating is interrogating you with personal questions about your past right off the bat, run and fast! This is definitely a huge red flag.

(I’ll leave a link below to a previous post about potential red flags).

Now if they are asking you questions about your past, such as what was your favorite movie as a kid, that’s one thing. Yet if they are asking you how many partners you’ve had, how many people you’ve slept with, when was the last time you had sex, etc. Then run! My ex would try to make me feel ashamed for anything and everything I did (especially the condom under the bed).

In example:

“You kissed a guy at 13? You are such a hoe! You are so stupid! You know they were just using you right? You’re such a dumb slut!”

“You kissed a guy that wasn’t your boyfriend in the eighth grade! I’m so disgusted with you, you should be ashamed of yourself!”

These are just some of the many things he would tell me. He would always interrogate me about my past yet wouldn’t share not even one detail about his own. He would ridicule me and tell me how “a woman should” “X Y and Z” yet would never see a flaw in his own actions. It took me a long time to realize that everything I’ve done and experienced in my past is normal, is okay. He would do anything to make me try to hate myself, to break my self-esteem, to make me feel as low as possible, to make me feel ashamed of myself as well as of my past. It took me a long time to realize and accept myself as well as my past. I had to realize that:

Your past is your past… and everyone has one.

(Here’s a link to a previous post I made about some potential red flags questions to look out for!)

 https://time2mend.wordpress.com/2017/01/16/am-i-attracted-to-abusive-men/

 

Getting Caught Stealing with my Abusive Ex-Boyfriend!

The only thing running through my head the entire time was…

“What if we get caught stealing?”

My stomach growling, skin bruised, mind and soul hungry for food… I sat there in the parking lot trying to mentally prepare myself.

I had stolen in the seventh grade once. Back then I didn’t steal something I really needed but more to be “rebellious”… but I’m not too sure how rebellious stealing a pack of gum was, but hey at the time I felt unstoppable!

This time was different.

My boyfriend had emptied my last $20 out of my account (for the third time), he needed weed. And if I “loved him” then of course I would give him the $20 to support his addiction. Of course, he would “pay me back” although he hasn’t any of the bajillion times he has asked, but maybe this time was different. (It wasn’t). So, there we were in the T****t parking lot. He’s explaining to me,

“Take some clothes, put them in your bag and come out!”

“You better not get caught or else I’m done with you!”

“Just do exactly what I told you!”

“If you love me you will do this!”

I was starving, I hadn’t eaten a real meal since Tuesday morning, it was Friday afternoon. To make matters worse it was the beginning of July in California, so the weather was blazing hot. I had originally told him

“Why don’t we just steal some groceries, so we can eat them? We can even just eat them in the store as we walk around and then leave.”

As usual, he wasn’t having that. He got angry at me and started going on his long narcissistic lectures about how he knows everything, how little I know, how stupid I am, how he is a genius and I need to listen to what he says, how he is the “greatest person to come into my life” and how I should be “trusting everything he says” including his “plan”.


His plan was:

  • Steal cute clothes
  • He’ll take the clothes I stole and sell them on Craigslist
  • We will use the money to buy some groceries

Now although I did agree that it sounded like a pretty good idea, I liked mine a lot better. I just wanted to walk to the produce section snack on some strawberries, grapes, and hell maybe even some carrots, as I walk around the store and then leave. Yet “I’m an immature idiot and don’t know anything” (his words exactly) so I didn’t.

I listened to him instead, big mistake.

As I look back now, I find it funny how although he had the “perfect plan”, although he “knew everything and how to do everything perfectly the first time” (once again, his words). It was me who had to execute his plan, his part of the plan was to stay in the car, with me being the idiot doing the stealing… I guess he is the “smart” one in this case.

So, there I was. I walked in and tried to act as casual as possible. I felt as if thousands of eyes were staring at me, watching my every move. I walked straight to the Junior’s section and grabbed a dress, a romper, and some shorts. I walked around and tried to find a place where nobody could see me, I slowly placed them into my bag.

I was so nervous.

I decided to go to the restroom. I felt that “nervous poop” feeling and it was close to the exit. I walked into the stall, took the clothes out, folded them neatly and tucked them deep into my bag placing my wallet over them. I tried to calm myself down. I headed outside the automatic sliding doors. As soon as I was outside I walked to my car. I felt as if I was speed walking while holding a “I just stole something” sign. I felt as if I looked so obvious that I just did something illegal yet, nobody saw me.

I didn’t get caught.

Now I know what you are thinking, “Isn’t that a good thing you didn’t get caught?”

No! It sucked that I didn’t get caught because now that I had accomplished it the first time my boyfriend didn’t want me to stop. Every time we went somewhere he saw me as a pawn.

“Just steal X Y & Z, for me one more time.”

Yet it wasn’t just “one more time”. Every store we went to he wanted me to take something for him to resale for 100% profit.

Now my first time stealing for him he sold the clothes for $30. I was sort of disappointed because I thought to myself,

“I risked my freedom for 30 bucks?”

I also was a little excited thinking of all the twenty-seven possibilities (California sales tax included), at the 99Cent Only Stores, of groceries we could buy!

Not only did we only get thirty dollars, it gets worse. It’s what the $30 really went to that tore my heart out of my chest… He used $20 of it for weed! Then we used $5 to get me two half pound burritos and a drink from Del Taco. The other 5$ he used to buy blunt wraps.

I was devastated!

I felt useless, defeated. All the hassle, all the anxiety, all the nervousness to steal for nothing! It made me sad to know that this wasn’t going to be the first and last time he wanted me to steal something. To make matters worse I knew that every time he said it would be money for groceries, that also was a lie.


Don’t be like me.

If someone who “cares” about you is trying to force you to do something illegal for them, don’t do it! Think of it this way, if they are wanting something for their own personal gain then why are they having you do it? Being manipulated by someone to do something, especially something illegal, isn’t someone who “cares about you”. Always remember that at the end of the day, if you get caught doing something for them, you are the one going to jail!

 

 

 

My Ex-Boyfriend Tried Killing Himself When I Broke Up With Him!

Now before I begin I want to make something very clear. Although in this post I may say a little joke or two here and there, suicide and suicide attempts are not a joke or laughing matter. If you or anyone you know is showing any signs of attempting suicide, take it serious and intervene immediately.

Here is the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline 1-800-273-8255


Okay, so there I was, pregnant, crying, alone, in our apartment. I just took that plunge, the hardest leap I’ve ever taken in life by breaking up with my abuser. My very first boyfriend, the only guy I ever moved in with. The person who claimed to “love me” and “care about me” then would end up hurting me, minutes later. After the police had to forcibly remove him and his belongings out of the apartment I felt a little safer but knew he would return… Which he did, the next day.

My phone ringing off the hook, voicemails popping up one after the other. First, he would call from his number, then I would block it. Then he would call from a different number, then I would block that one. Then he called blocked, over and over and over. I was so tempted to answer, to say that “I take it back” to just start over, to let him back into my life. Yet, I stood my ground. I knew that this was right for me. Although I didn’t answer the phone calls I did listen to the voicemails.

“Please answer the phone, I will never do that again!”

That” referring to him trying to throw me down the stairs of our second story apartment!

“Answer the phone, it’s cold out here. I can’t stop crying and wheezing, I have asthma let me back into the apartment to get my inhaler!”

He was saying anything and everything to pull at my heart strings, he knew how to manipulate me and was trying his hardest for me to give into him one last time.

“How could you do this to me? After all that I have done for you and you do this? Wow! I can’t believe you would do this to me!”

Do what? Break up with a person who tried to kill me numerous times? Yes, I’m a terrible person for wanting to leave the one person hurting me, right? Wrong!


Then… his family started to call.

(They are a whole new level of bizarre which we will get into in a later post)

Of course, I didn’t answer the phone! I knew that it was either him using their phones or them trying to convince me to let their abusive son back into the apartment and back into my life. Not going to happen.

Since I wasn’t answering the phone, they began leaving voicemails over and over.

I was an emotional wreck at this point, sitting in my walk-in closet too afraid to be in the living room, or even in the bedroom. I had all the doors locked, windows shut, blinds closed. I was afraid, I didn’t know what to expect.

Would he come back with his gun? Would he throw a rock through my window? All these questions in my mind as my cell phone continued to ring over and over. I sat down and began to listen to the 8 voicemails left by his family.

“Aye (his dad’s voice)! Pick up the phone! I don’t like you just breaking up with my son, you need to answer this damn phone and explain yourself!”

“It’s me, (his older sister) I know you and my brother argue all the time but he is really sad, he is really sorry I’ve never seen his cry this much. Please answer the phone, he wants to talk to you really badly.”

All of the voicemails sounded the same, pleading for me to answer the phone, to give him another chance, yet this last voicemail was the one that made my heart race. I replayed it three times just to make sure I was hearing correctly.

“It’s me (his dad’s voice)! He just tried to kill himself! We found him in the bathroom crying and saying he felt sick and that he took a bunch of medicine! We rushed him to the hospital! You need to get here right now! It’s your fault that he did this! CALL ME BACK!” Then throughout the voicemail there is a long silence but with hospital machine beeps in the background. It’s as if he didn’t hang up the phone for about a minute then he finally hung up.

At this point I was a whole whirlpool of emotions, lots of sadness, regret, yet I was furious.

How could he be so stupid!? Why would he take a whole bunch of medicine? What would killing himself solve?! Is he seriously trying to flip this whole thing on me?! Trying to kill himself to paint me out to be the “bad guy”? Didn’t he already try killing himself before with his ex!

(Yes, he tried to “kill himself” with his ex-girlfriend when he was 19 after she denied his proposal, when he shared that story with me I should have spotted then that something about him was definitely off. More about that story in a different post)

Now I know this sounds insensitive but I thought to myself, “Why did he try to kill himself with pills? Why would he take a bunch of medicine when he has a gun?” Now of course I didn’t want him to actually kill himself I was just shocked at his tactic of choice. This is when I realized exactly what was happening, it was all an act of manipulation! He was trying to force me to get back with him by attempting to “kill himself”.

The phone rang and went to voicemail once more, as I listened to the voicemail I realized right away it was him.

His voice was shaky and sounded as if he had been crying.

“Hey…. Um… I am alright, I just really love you and want you back with me, I apologize for hurting you. I have realized I messed up it’s because I had a bad childhood that I took my anger out on you and if you please just let me back in I swear to God things will be different. I didn’t mean to try to throw you down the stairs it was an accident. I shouldn’t have drunk that Nyquil trying to end my life that was dumb of me. Please just call me back please I need you here okay? We can still be together for the baby, please just call me back.”

As bad as this sounds, I actually laughed. I laughed right when I heard him say Nyquil on the voicemail. It was sort of a “laugh of relief”, it gave me reassurance that this was all just a plea for attention and to make me “regret breaking up with him”. I thought to myself if he truly wanted to kill himself, he would have. He wouldn’t have drunk a whole bottle of Nyquil. I mean of all the things in the world, cough medicine? Really?! Well, whatever floats his boat, whatever helps him sleep at night I guess? Maybe that’s what he needed the Nyquil for…


If someone is threating you with a suicide attempt to try and coerce you back into their life, don’t accept it. Although remember to always take suicide attempts and signs seriously. Tell someone. Call the National Suicide Prevention Hotline 1-800-273-8255. Know that (in the instance that they are using it as method to manipulate you) this is not your fault, that this is a game of manipulation that you don’t deserve to be a pawn in.

Although suicide attempts are a very serious matter in my circumstance it was used as a tactic to manipulate me back into the hands of a monster.

 

 

 

My Family Doesn’t Take My Abuse Seriously…

“You can’t be experiencing PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) symptoms. You need to experience something traumatic.”

“It wasn’t that traumatic”

“That’s not traumatic enough

These are all things said to me by my “family” members when I would discuss my past in domestic violence. Some “family” right?

This is what I was told after I had shared with them my loss of memory, constant paranoia, reoccurring nightmares, lack of concentration, and how I thought I was experiencing slight PTSD.

That’s (referring to my experiences) not traumatic enough

(As if there is some sort of “traumatic meter” which can determine what is classified as traumatic in a person’s life or not).

When I heard that, my mouth dropped to the floor. I couldn’t believe it. The people who “raised me” who I was supposed to “look up to” were the very ones minimizing my abuse, not taking it serious, telling me it’s “not traumatic enough”.

Months of being isolated from friends and family, missing class and ending up failing college courses, being manipulated by the one claiming to “care” about me, being hit, choked, slapped, by the one claiming to “love me”, all wasn’t “traumatic enough”.

Feeling trapped in a cage not being able to be myself, covering up bruises with makeup, having my clothes cut up with scissors for “looking at another guy”, having my items taken and sold for drugs because “if I really loved him, I’d let him sell my things so he can buy what he wanted” all wasn’t “traumatic”.

Being a pregnant teen by a person who would threaten to kill me with a gun, almost getting thrown off the second story of my apartment building, slipping out of consciousness from being nearly choked to death because a random number texted me, all wasn’t “traumatic enough”.

Maybe I’m missing the definition of traumatic… Wrong!

These all were traumatic, very traumatic! Unfortunately, hearing this from my own “family” hurt me, made me second guess myself “Am I taking this too seriously?” “Maybe it wasn’t so bad”, it even made me want to apologize for ever sharing my abuse with anyone, made me wish I would have just kept it all to myself, not telling anyone what he had done to me, made me wish I would have just said “we broke up” and never mentioned him again.

It took months for me to realize what was said to me was untrue, incorrect, false, inaccurate, wrong! Yes, my experiences were traumatic, yes what I went through was traumatizing and it will stick with me for life. My experiences, as much as I wish could just disappear from my memory, will always be in my mind. I learned through lots of researching and truly finding myself and who I was that these symptoms were normal after a traumatic event. That it wasn’t only normal but okay to feel this way.

Sadly, we can’t choose our family but we can choose how what they say affects us. It took months for me to realize that. A person who thinks that abuse isn’t “traumatic enough” 1.  Is ignorant. And 2. Has no right to determine what is “traumatic” or not in your life.

Never let anyone, whether that be family, parents, friends, determine whether it’s okay or not to feel a certain way. They aren’t you. They weren’t going through the experiences that you went through. Know that after your traumatic experience, with time, you can and will feel better, be stronger, and overcome it all.

If you have a toxic “friend” or “family” member here’s a link below on how to deal with the toxic people in your life.

http://www.wikihow.com/Deal-With-Toxic-People

My Boyfriend Doesn’t Turn Me On Sexually…

Sounds like a nightmare, right? Being in a relationship with someone you’re not physically attracted to… that was me! Yet, of course I couldn’t be attracted to someone who is abusive towards me, who tells me how ugly I am, how I should be lucky to have him, who destroys all the things I love then explains to me how if I wouldn’t have “x y and z’d” that he wouldn’t have done it in the first place. Many people have asked me, “How did you become pregnant by a person that would hit you?”

The answer is simple: manipulation.

At first I didn’t think I was being “raped” by him because when I envisioned rape I think of Law & Order SVU episodes, or a stranger leading you into an alley and sexually assaulted you on your walk back from the grocery store.

Wrong!

Yes, you can be raped by your boyfriend, husband, wife, girlfriend, spouse, best friend, significant other, a “friend”. A rapist has no specific title. Rape can be perpetrated by anyone.

When me and my abuser would have “sex” not once was it ever consensual. It was never two-sided, it was always when he wanted to. When we had “sex”, it was always about his satisfaction, what he wanted, it was never an intimate two-person act. He had even tried to force me to have a threesome, all to fulfill his fantasies. Not one time did he ever consider my feelings, my wants, my sexual desires. It was all about control. It was as if I was a sex object, not a person.

So, during “doing the do” I would always be somewhere else, mentally. Pretending it wasn’t happening, pretending that it was with someone else, maybe a celebrity one night, maybe a man that I created from my imagination the next, just waiting until it was over.

This is not a healthy sex life, this is not how consensual sex is supposed to be.

If you or your partner insists on controlling you to have sex with them, manipulating you to have sex with them, forcing you to have sex with them, it is rape. Many may believe that just because they are your boyfriend/girlfriend, wife/husband, significant other, that it isn’t considered “rape”. Anyone can commit rape. Nowhere is there a contract stating, “being in a relationship means you must have sex with your partner”. You control your body, you control when (and if) you want to have sex and who you want to have sex with. The second you decide that you don’t want to have sex, change your mind about having sex, or simply aren’t in the mood for sex and they continue on anyway, that is rape. And rape is never okay!

This isn’t a person who respects your boundaries, this isn’t a person who respects your body, and most importantly this isn’t a person that respects you!

 

 

The First Time He Hit Me

Let’s just say it wasn’t the last.

It’s a day I will never forget.

We were together for about three weeks. He immediately would ask to “see my phone” the second we would see each other to “use it” (he had a phone of his own, yet it miraculously would stop working the second I arrived) All he was truly doing was searching through my phone. Of course, he wouldn’t find anything so he would act like he was finished “using it” and give it back.

Well that day, it was different. It went off. A simple text message of “Hey wats up? Long time no talk”.

The number wasn’t saved. That instantly sent off a red flag for him. “Who is this?!” “Someone texted you! Whose number is that!?” I truly had no idea, I could barely remember my own new cell phone number from moving there, let alone someone else’s number.

This was the first time he truly raised his voice to me, in person. [I had received an angry voicemail from him in week two but we will get into that later.] I sort of just froze there, tongue tied, stuttering. I tried telling him I don’t know who the number was.

“You must know who it is, they said they have talked to you before! They have your number!” He takes the phone and a pack of cigarettes and heads out into the garage. I follow behind, telling him repeatedly that I wasn’t sure who it was texting me and that it must not be anyone important if their number isn’t saved.

He wasn’t having that.

CALL IT!”

Knowing that I didn’t do anything wrong, I did. I called. My heart was racing. I kept thinking to myself “Why am I nervous? I didn’t even do anything wrong? Why is he so angry?” I hadn’t seen this side of him before. “Hello?” It was a man’s voice; one I didn’t find familiar enough to know right off the bat who it was. My boyfriend’s ear was on the other side of the phone, he kept mouthing “Put it on speaker! Put it on speaker!” So, I did.

Making hand motions and mouthing quietly so the person couldn’t hear my boyfriend says “Ask who it is!” So I asked, “Um.. Who is this?” “This is Jay. You don’t remember me? From the party? I got your number, we texted for a little while then you disappeared on me? How have you…”

My boyfriend instantly grabs the phone and clicks! He gave me a look I’ll never forget.

Stern, furious, and before you know it… He slapped me in the face. So hard, I felt as if I had gotten instantly sunburned on my cheek.

“You’re such a hoe! Giving your number out at parties! You probably f*cked him too! Wow! I can’t believe you! How long did you talk to him before you started talking to me!?”

This was the first time he ever hit me, I began to cry. These tears were different. Tears of hurt more than of pain. A crying that I had never experienced before… This is when he said something that tore me, deeper than any surface wounds could.

“I don’t know why you’re crying. Tears can’t save you now.”

I had never felt so low, so hopeless. He leaves the garage and returns to the house, as if he hadn’t hit me at all. I stood there, in shock. This is when I started to visualize that this was just a dream, an hallucination… nope, this was reality, this was my “relationship”…

That day my mind just replayed it over and over. From that point I knew that, “Something just isn’t right” yet, I never acted on it. I had that “gut feeling” that something was off. I would question his “I’m sorry’s” and even his “I’ll never do it again” yet, I never left…

My Ex Put a Loaded Gun to My Head!!

There I was… facing a loaded black 22. Never in my life had I been in the front of a gun. I’m standing in the room, my back against the wall. He began to press the gun deep into my forehead. He’s angry, chain smoking cigarettes back to back blowing smoke into my face with the gun pointed at me. This is when he’ll say something that stuck with me until this day and will forever stick with me. I can still hear the tone of his voice…

“If you ever try to leave me, I will kill you and then kill myself!”

He slaps me with the gun and throws me onto the bed and leaves the room like nothing ever happened.

That was the first, yet sadly not the last, time that he pulled a gun on me. Here’s how it began.

After being in a “relationship” for about four months, I would spend 99.99% of my time with him. I couldn’t walk to the stop sign by myself. I couldn’t drive down the street to the grocery store (in MY own car) by myself. I couldn’t even go the bathroom without “turning in my phone” to him, and if I were in there for more than three minutes, there he was beating at the door asking, “What are you doing!?”. This being my first relationship I assumed that he just “cares so much that he has to constantly check up on my every action” Yeah, and pigs fly.

I had started my period while in class so I figured I should go and buy some pads at Target before going back to the house. He never wanted to go to the store with me without me buying something (everything) for him and nothing for myself so I knew it would be best to go by myself. Going straight from school to the store was my only chance. So of course, I texted him and let him know, (more like asked his permission if I could go to the store in the first place). Immediately he called.

“Why are you going to the store?” “What’s that noise?” “Call me as soon as you get there!” I did. He proceeded to talk to me the entire store trip. Just to “make sure” I wasn’t doing anything “out of the ordinary”.

I tell him I’m about to head out of the store and that I’ll see him when I get there. As I walk out a lady approaches me in her van saying, “I love your hair who does it?” My hair had a nice black to dark brown ombre to it. I told her, “I do”. Although I’m a very social person I was brushing her off, trying to get to my car so I can leave. The time continued to tick on…

She asked for my number so I can contact her about doing her hair. I told her that I’ll take hers down and call her. I didn’t want some random number calling my phone, he would flip. After about six minutes, which felt like a lifetime, she drove away. I rushed to my car and sped to the house.

When I pulled up I did the “normal routine” of what he expected me to do when I pull up.


  • I get out the car
  • I hand him my phone
  • He gets in the car, searches through it [glove department, under the seats, the backseats, the trunk]
  • He goes through my phone and keeps the phone for the remainder of the day
  • He grabs my belongings (backpack, purse, and the Target bags) and goes through them, grabs the receipt

This is what he would do every single day after I come home from school. He searched my car. He searched through my phone. He made sure that anything and everything I did, he knew about.

When he grabbed the receipt, that’s when all hell broke loose. “1:16? It’s 1:45! What the f*ck took you so long? You went somewhere else didn’t you! Who the f*ck did you go see?! You cheated on me didn’t you!” He screams at me to go to the room and close the door. I already knew what this meant. So, I did.

I go into the room, my heart racing. He usually follows right behind me but this time he didn’t… which made me even more nervous. I didn’t have my phone so I had no clue of what time it was, I just knew it had been at least five minutes and nothing? Still wasn’t in the house or in the room. I smell cigarette smoke. He must be smoking a cigarette going through my stuff to see if he missed something, the usual.

The door slams open! He goes straight into his closet and pulls out a black box. I had never seen this before, I didn’t know what to expect. It was a gun. My heart dropped. I had never felt this level of fear in my life. I didn’t know what to say, what to feel, what to do. It’s as if my mind froze, everything was moving in slow motion. He kept asking “Where’d you go!?” “Who were you with?!” The gun in his hand the entire time. When I explained to him the lady outside of Target situation, he didn’t believe me. There went his scenarios, “You cheated on me after you left Target! You went to some other dude’s house! Then decided to bring your stupid ass here!” I began to beg…

I begged him to leave me alone, to let me leave, that I just wanted out, I wanted to end the relationship. Big mistake. That’s when he points the gun straight at my head and presses it into my forehead.

“If you ever try to leave me, I’ll kill you and then kill myself”

His voice.. that sentence.. the gun.. everything played in my head over and over that night, even after his one thousand, “I wouldn’t have hit you if you wouldn’t have x, y and z.” “I wouldn’t have had to pull the gun out if you didn’t this, that, and this.” “It won’t happen again.”

Never once did he acknowledge ownership for what he had done. Never once did he apologize. Never once did he say he believed I didn’t cheat on him. And it most certainly did, “happen again” (but we will get to that in a later post)

Ladies and gentlemen, this is a serious issue. I could have easily been murdered right then and there, at 18. He could have easily shot me in the head, shot himself, and nobody would have gotten the real story. Yet he used this as a tactic. To instill fear into me, to make me never try to leave him again…

It worked.

If someone ever pulls a gun, knife, or any other kind of weapon out on you, that is not love. That is not a relationship, a “spouse/partner”. They will do it again, they aren’t sorry. After a situation like that, if you value your life it’s best to leave, make an escape plan, and leave, never turn back!

Here’s a link to making an escape plan to safely leave an abusive relationship.

Your life is worth it.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/09/18/leaving-an-abusive-relationship_n_5840504.html