I was born August 1987 in a little town in SC named Rock Hill. I lived in the general vicinity until the summer before 6th grade. We moved about 45 minutes away to Indian Trail, NC. We we officially in the suburbs at that point and I remember being terrified to ride the bus to school for the first time and when I stepped on, I quickly sat in the very first seat, hoping nobody would notice me.

I moved on to make many friends in school and in the neighborhood. A lot of us were my grade level and the others were only 2 years ahead but we all got along great. My school bestie, Sara, was on the same street as me and I loved how easily we could get together—especially after Rock Hill where we were in a rough area and my parents preferred I not go adventuring out of the yard.

I became a cheerleader (a huge dream of mine) in 8th grade for football and I also made the basketball cheer team as co-captain with my friend, Sam. I was over the moon.

When I started my freshman year we voted for who we wanted on Student Council. There was no election hub-bub, we just wrote down who we would think would be good for a certain position and tuned it in and apparently I was well known and liked enough that I became VP of the freshman class….I WAS SHOCKED…people knew me? And liked me, I guess??

Here’s where it gets juicy. I had my first bf freshman year, slightly into sophomore, he turned out to be a bit intense to say the least (years later he tattooed my name on his thigh 😳—like wayyy after we were together). Anyways, my sophomore year I was introduced to “B”. He was 2 years older, went to another school, and drove a brand new Mustang that was of course lowered and souped up. I was completely smitten and he showed interest and I just couldn’t believe someone as handsome and whatever else was so interested in me. We started dating in January and things were great besides petty little high school arguments.

That year his school lost the venue for their prom and had to find somewhere last minute….like prom was the day before graduation. I was absolutely shocked that my parents let me go with him. They were very strict (to the point of getting driving records of anyone I rode with—if I was allowed to at all). I got a dress, spent hours on my makeup, I felt like a princess when I was done, it was wonderful.

Prom was kind of a bust so we spent 15-20 there for pictures and then the rest of the night driving around in his parent’s Corvette that they let him borrow and pulling over to do things that teenagers do that they have no business doing.

At this point a conversation about my period came up because I had been late. I wasn’t at all concerned as I was very irregular and sometimes 2 weeks on, 2 weeks off, or a month with nothing…you just never knew. AND I was on birth control. He made us get a pregnancy test and we went back to his house and took it. Fn POSITIVE. I was 15 and this was the day before his graduation.

I called my mom and refused to come home because I was facing certain death if I did, I thought. I ended up telling my mother over the phone and she calmly asked us to come to the house because obviously there was a serious chat that we needed to have. I’ll never forget, the first thing Mom said to B was “so when are you leaving her?” It was a lot. But after all of the fighting and stress we came to a conclusion about what to do. He would move in and we’d raise the baby, not marrying before I graduated high school.

Okay so this is going to be a post all on it’s own but the gist is there was a forced abortion in June while I was still 15. It shattered my world and I was in the type of depression that I didn’t even know existed. My parents didn’t’ understand my pain and they thought that keeping B and I apart, after we were just pregnant and living together, was a good idea. Nope. There was a lot of strict parenting going on and I was in such a miserable place that I felt like I had to get out of there ASAP. I knew that the law in NC was that I could leave home at 16 and there wasn’t a damn thing they could do about it….no cops could make me go home, nothin’. Sooo on September 23, 2003 I played sick so I could stay home and B’s mom came and got me and I moved in with him.

March 2004 we got married in Maryland, where at the time a Dr. note saying you’re pregnant or have had a child would override a parent’s signature (because mine were obviously not signing) and in August 2004 we welcomed my wonderful, sweet baby boy into the world.

It was rough. B is a classic narcissist and was VERY abusive. We traded his muscle car in for a very nice SUV for the family and instead he took out the back 2 rows and filled it up with speakers for bass competitions. He got me a 2 door car that lasted maybe 3 months. I waited it out until after my son’s first birthday…a few months later, around Thanksgiving, we decided to stop sleeping in the same bed and do some version of a separation until I could get a place…which was extremely difficult after his narcissistic side isolated me from all friends and family. Seriously, I was threatened with physical violence if I wanted to harbor a relationship with anyone from my past—parents too. My Mom didn’t meet my son until he was 9 months old and it kills me to think about that. I was basically held captive.

Finally a girl I worked with at Chili’s and I decided to get an apartment with our tax refunds around March 2006…that only lasted until August because I had no idea how to manage my money or a household. I moved back home to my Mom again, finally, after ALL I’d been through. (And I’ve left out some pretty heavy details like being shot at by my FIL when I was bout 5 months pregnant). I left B’s house with trauma out the yang from not just him but his parents and they kept a hold on me for so long and I was so terrified they’d come after me and take my son and I couldn’t bear the thought of him being raised int that abusive house, but they’d certainly done a great job of beating me down to where I thought they had some power over me. I spent YEARS changing phone numbers and hiding.

I remarried when I was about 22-23? He was a good man, a paraplegic from a motorcycle accident but he was fully capable of caring for himself and even lived alone. He started out great! My son loved him and what better role model to teach him that life throws you some shit sometimes and it’s all in how you let it affect you. He, “W”, was an inspirational speaker, did adaptive sports, and was building a race car in his garage. I thought it would be wonderful and my son would have a strong father figure to teach him how to overcome hard times.

It didn’t work out. I could list reasons and blame myself and him but it’s not worth it. Neither of us stayed who we were, nor did we grow together.

Off and on for years B reached out saying he was in a committed relationship and he had changed and I would honestly, hand to God, give him a fair chance to show me. At one point he seemed to be doing so well, his gf was wonderful and also had a young son, and we decided to do a trial of Todd (son) living with his Dad. It lasted only a few weeks until Todd came to be with me for Spring Break and told me his father chokes him. Hm, funny coincidence, that was his favorite with me as well. After calling and confronting him and then being attacked every which way, Todd definitely didn’t go back. At this point he was around 11. (When the gf ended up leaving she reached out to me…just like his second wife did…to see if B was as violent to me as he was to her). POS

I struggled majorly with my mental health, struggling to keep a job. One was a retail position where I stood by the door and I had a full blown pass-out, hyperventilating, dissociating meltdown—by the door. I’m applying for disability after years of similar things happening.

We lived with my mom for a good long while and God bless that woman, I couldn’t have, and to this day still couldn’t do it without her. She’s been a second mom, my step-dad has been Todd’s father figure and he doesn’t at all feel like he missed anything with B gone…he liked it better that way.

After the Spring Break incident I left the decision of if he wanted a relationship with his father up to him…zero input from me. I didn’t wan’t my personal experiences to affect his decision making so I never talked poorly of his father and around 7th grade his Dad got married again and had his, now, third child. The usual came soon after…”I’m different, I’ve changed, I just want to know my son.” Todd agreed to give it a shot but felt so uncomfortable after a few visits because of his fathers inappropriate language about the size of his “manhood” and other sexually related topics that shouldn’t be discussed, especially with a 7th grader. He didn’t want to go back.

Well well well, what do you know….wasn’t that long after that B’s new wife “M” called asking about abuse and telling me her side of things that I’d heard from B. It was all textbook. He’s a violent man who kinda seems to hate women tbh and he gets his jollies by physically hurting them.—Off topic but there was one time he choked me so hard I had fingerprints on my neck and at the time I worked as a hostess at a sports bar. The manager let the other hostess and I run to the craft store for ribbon and every single girl that worked there wore a pretty little ribbon around their neck like mine. I felt so supported in that moment.

Okay so third wife leaves off to CA and takes the baby with her. Now mind you, he had a daughter with his second wife (who literally just ran off and left her) and he signed over custody of her to his parents. Where Todd is concerned and the only thing I ever cared about, because c’mon, raising a kid is fn expensive, was getting the measly $300/month child support he was ordered. Of course he never paid. Maybe once or twice a year, leaving him $25k in arrears. Weirdly he started paying here and there once Todd was 18 🤷‍♀️.

When I was living with Mom, going to hair school, it was coming up on my 29th and my parents were cool with me having a party at the house. Had a good turn out and a good time but the best part was that my friend David brought his friend Nick. Fast forward 7 years (almost) and here we are. Nick and I just bought our first home and he is the father Todd needed. Todd will tell you, Nick’s his dad and they both work at the family mechanic shop together. Nick does his best to understand my mental illnesses and how they affect me day-to-day (bipolar, ptsd, mdd, gad, adhd, agoraphobia, panic disorder-unspecified). He works so so hard so that I can stay home and focus on my health. We got lucky with him. We’re engaged, have been for about 5 years…it’ll happen.

Anywho, so that brings us to now. My mental health is a bitch…tried so much for it and I’m about to do some intense trauma therapy mixed with ketamine therapy and EMDR. B and the cycle that unfolded after that kind of abuse, more abuse from sig nifs, it just wouldn’t stop. I try every day to pull my mind out of the darkness as absolutely hard as I can and no most people don’t understand. But I CAN say that my son is happy and healthy and thriving. Thank you, Jesus. As for me, I’m still very much a work in progress but I’m finally loved and appreciated.

Abuse and trauma is no joke and the damage it caused can be deep and long lasting. If you’re in a situation where you need help or advice please call the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-SAFE(7233) or thehotline.org (just be sure to clear your browser history).