School days part 2

Going to school provided me an opportunity to prove to myself that I wasn't stupid. Jeff kept telling me I was, and I believed him. The first semester, Jeff and I took the same class. Machine shop. I did well in the class, but really didn't like it. 

Jeff was working, but decided it was too hard to go to school and work, so he quit his job. This resulted in us eventually having to move. For some reason, Landlords expect people to pay their rent. When I realized we were going to have to move, I started looking for another place to live. One we would be able to afford. There weren't a lot of options. I finally found a small trailer in a trailer park, near the school.

The rent was very low, because the trailer was in very bad shape. The landlord was willing to rent it for just the lot rent, if we would fix it up. Jeff didn't want to, but agreed we had no choice. The first thing we had to do was put a front door on it. Jeff got a piece of plywood, hinges and a padlock. He put it up as the door. It worked, I suppose. It looked terrible. At night we locked it on the inside, daytime when we left, locked on the outside.

When we got more money, we paid the rent for the next few months. The extra money, Jeff used to buy a privacy fence. He said that the neighbors were nothing but trash and he didn't want anything to do with any of them. The neighbors where mainly lower class, working people. It was more that he didn't want me or our son to get to know any of them. Abuser use isolation as a method of control. I was used to not having friends at that point, so I gave no argument.

Both Jeff and I continued school. Our son went to daycare. I realized I didn't want to keep taking machine shop. The shop teacher suggested I take some academic classes. He said I would do well in them. I did. I found I liked taking the classes. I learned. I made good grades. 

Money was very tight. Jeff got a part time job at a nearby convenience store. He would take (steal) cigarettes and used the extra money to buy beer. I suggested using the money to fix our home up, rather than buying beer He reacted that he gave enough da.m money to the family and needed to be able to relax after spending all his time working and going to school. He asked me what I was doing to support the family. I suggested me getting a job...wrong suggestion.

Jeff exploded in anger. He started screaming at me, hitting me, kicking me. He pulled my hair, knocked me to the ground. I at first tried to fight back, but when I did the blows got harder. He liked to hit me in the head with his fist. Even when I was down on the floor, begging, he continued hitting me. I passed out. 

When I came to, Jeff was sitting in his chair, drinking a beer. My son was laying next to me crying, asking me to hug him. I did held him close and told him how much I loved him. Jeff told me to stop my whimpering and get my lazy a$$ off the floor. I did. I was dizzy, felt sick to my stomach, and disoriented. I looked at Jeff, told him I was sick, struggled to bed and passed out. 

The next morning, I still felt very ill. I got up, fixed breakfast for my son and myself. I didn't go to school, just sat very quiet. My head hurt so much. My son stayed close, and wanted to sit in my lap. He put his arms around me and started singing a song I would sing to him when he was sick. I dozed off and on. I had no energy. My son kept singing to me. He also kept going and getting me water and telling me that if I drank I would feel better.

Jeff came out of the bedroom about noon. He asked me what the hell I was doing sitting on my a$$. He told me to get up and fix him something to eat. I told him I was not feeling well. He told me he didn't care, it was my job and get off my lazy a$$. I started to get up, but was so dizzy, I fell down. He started laughing at me. Then told me to forget it, to stay laying on the floor like a dog, all he wanted was a beer.

A few hours later, I felt better, Jeff was very drunk. I took my son outside to play. I stepped outside the gate to speak to one of the neighbors. Jeff came out the door, asked me what I was doing. I told him, being polite to the neighbor and watching our son play. Jeff stood there until I finished the conversation. When I came back into the yard, he walked up to me, put his fist against my cheek, told me he didn't want me talking to our trashy neighbors.

My son saw his dad, ran over, kicked him, then ran out the gate and started singing the theme from "Cops" ... "bad boy bad boy...what ya gonna do, what ya gonna do when they come for you?"  Jeff walked outside the gate, grabbed my son's arm, dragged him into the yard, shut the gate, then turned him over his knee and paddled him. It was a open handed spanking, not a beating. My son did not deserve it. I yelled at Jeff to stop and he said if I said anything else that I would be next.

I pushed Jeff on the back, my son got away. I told my boy to go to his room and shut the door. He did. Jeff pushed me to the ground, then kicked me twice. He called me a bitch. Then told me if I ever got in his way when he was disciplining HIS son again, he would kill me. He then went in the house, sat down and drank himself into a stupor.

I got my son from his room, went outside, and we stayed out until after dark. We went in one time, to use the restroom and then get something to eat. We had a picnic outside. I pointed out some stars. My son asked me if his daddy was a bad boy. I just hugged him and told him that sometimes people do bad things, but that no matter what I loved my baby boy. I told him he was my Monk-Monk and always would be.

Jeff used alcohol as an excuse to batter, but that is all it was, an excuse. He later stopped drinking, but still found excuses to hit both me and our children. Jeff also would react violently whenever I would disagree with him, or suggest he do something he didn't want to do.

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