The abuse continues part 1

After recovering from the concussion I had received from the beating Jeff gave me for suggesting I get a job to help the family, I thought about leaving again. We had no phone, and I had not heard from my family in two years. The last I had heard was when my brother had written to let me know that my mother had passed away. I wasn't sure where to go, as I had no money, no transportation, and no friends. Jeff's mother had once told me that if I ever needed help to come to her. So one evening when Jeff was asleep, I took my son, the keys and drove the 10 miles to her house.

Jeff's mother seemed surprised to see me. I asked her if I could stay there and told her what happened. She told me that if Jeff got that angry, it wasn't safe for me to stay at her house. She suggested that I leave my son with her and go to a nearby free camp ground for the night. I didn't want to leave my son, but she convinced me that he would be okay with her and it was better for me to go. So I left my son with her and drove off to spend the night sleeping in the truck.

The next morning when I returned to her house, Jeff was there. Jeff's mother had gone and picked him up. Jeff had denied to his mother that he had hit me. He had told her that it was all in my head, that I was crazy. To me, Jeff apologized, promised me it would never happen again. He agreed to go into therapy and quit drinking. When I refused to consider going back to him, he said that he was going to have me committed until I calmed down. Then he told me that he had spoken to an attorney and that he could get me committed for at least 3 days and once he did that I had no chance of custody or visitation. He said, so come back to me or never see my son again. I agreed, but made him promise to go to therapy and stop
 drinking. He agreed.

Needless to say, there was no therapy, and the drinking continued. The abuse, for a while, became no more than verbal. I was called names such as cow, bitch, ugly, stupid, crazy, and a few too vulgar to write. He told me that what happened had home had better stay at home. He told me if I complained or said anything to anyone that it showed disrespect and that would make him angry. We both continued going to school. I tried very hard to do well in my classes. I didn't talk to anyone, would sit in the back of the room, seldom responded in class, but turned in my homework, did very well on my tests, and got good grades. 

I had one teacher who tried to talk with me a couple times after class. I was polite, but did nothing more than answer in monosyllables. I had nothing to say to him. He finally asked me if I was okay. I told him I was just very shy ( I was actually just scared). He gave me his number and told me that if I ever needed someone to talk with, or help with anything to call him. I thanked him. He then said that I needed to remember that sometimes people did things to other people that weren't right. The only way to make it stop was to reach out and take a helping hand. I told him that I didn't need a helping hand and to leave me alone. I never called him. I ask myself now, what did he see that would make him reach out to help me? Why was I too scared to take that offer of help? 

Christmas approached. I love Christmas. I would put up the Christmas tree, decorate, and sing and play Christmas carols. That year when Jeff wasn't around I would read the story of Jesus to my son. I also read "Twas the Night Before Christmas". We bought books, color books, crayons, and trucks. Most of the smaller toys were from the dollar store. I wanted a Christmas, but knew we didn't have a lot of money. Jeff left one evening and came home with a very expensive video game system. When I asked where he had gotten it, as I knew we didn't have the money for it, he responded that it didn't matter, it was ours now. I started to ask again, but the look on his face told me if I said anything else, I would regret it. Note: I don't know if the system was stolen or not. I knew we didn't have the money for it. I suspect it may have been, but for all I know his mother could have bought it. 

A week after Christmas, Jeff insisted my son go back to day care. I was enjoying the time with my son, and asked why. Jeff got so angry for me asking. He wanted to know why I was questioning his authority, that the boy needed to go and that was all there was to it. I said I wasn't questioning his authority. I just wanted to know why. He hit me on the side of my head with his fist, told me to shut up and stop arguing with him. He called me several names, then proceeded to slap and hit me, until I just laid on the floor whimpering. 

The next day, Jeff took our son to day care. He then came home, proceeded to drink until he had finished a 12-pack of beer. Then I found out why he wanted my son to back to daycare. 

I got pregnant. I found out three weeks later when I went in to get my tubes tied. I couldn't get it done because of being pregnant. First I cried. Then all I could think of was how precious another baby would be. Jeff wanted me to get an abortion. I refused. Jeff got angry, threatened to beat it out of me. I told him I would get an amniocentesis, and if there was anything wrong, then I would consider it. He agreed. Jeff has a cousin with Down's syndrome, I was 36. It was considered high risk for birth defects. 

I made a decision that no matter what, I was going to have my baby. This was my 11th pregnancy, I had two live births, one still born (at 26 weeks gestation), and seven miscarriages. I had not wanted another baby, but since it happened, I was thrilled, even if Jeff was not. I had the amniocentesis, but waited to get the results until it would have been too late to do anything. 

One time during my pregnancy, Jeff slapped me. He did it in front of his mother. His mother got in his face and told him that if he hit me again while I was pregnant, she would castrate him. He didn't hit me again, not while I was pregnant. It was about 3 months after my daughter was born before he hit me again. His verbal and emotional abuse continued. I just accepted it. I was tired all the time, in addition to the pregnancy and taking care of my son, I carried a full load of classes. All I wanted to do was sleep.

It is obvious that he is following the abusers pattern of dominating his victim and demanding (undeserved) "respect". He also was letting me know he was doing this for my own good just like the old plantation owner, he was the "Massa", discipling (beating) his slave while professing to be a "loving'" Master.   

If you feel you are being abused or know someone who is being abused call the National Domestic Violence hotline. 1-800-799-7233.