Hidden Abuse - My Story, Part 1

 I previously wrote about the family sexual abuse I experienced as a minor. Also At least with the first one I didn’t know it was abuse. I thought it was normal and accepted. Well the sexual abuse endured a little later, still as a minor I knew wasn’t normal. The abuse experienced as an adult is a different story. I knew it wasn’t right, well sometimes knew. Sometimes it was disguised as jokes. Even when I knew the sexual or verbal actions made me feel like shit I didn’t know what to do because when I didn’t tolerate it the abuse kept going on and on and on.

I would try to get to a safe place  in our apartment and he would break down the door if it was locked. If I went outside he would lock me out, unless I took his dog with me. If I tried to go somewhere and he saw I had my keys he would follow me out of the apt. 

Here’s a picture of Jasmine looking like she’s floating, to break up the heaviness.

The yelling - hours or even days of it - often times didn’t end until I allowed him to sexually abuse me. I knew it was sexual actions that I didn’t want to do, that often physically hurt me and I didn’t know it was abuse. I didn’t know it was abuse even when he had my head over the bed, throwing up because of his appendage being shoved down my throat and him getting turned on as I couldn’t breath because of the vomit as I was trying to push him off of me.

I’m a Black Belt in American Kickboxing and American Karate. I know how to and am physically able to defend myself, which I have in the past. There was no defense against this. I had nowhere else to go for a while, with the exception of living in my car. I wasn’t ready for that and I didn’t realize until much later just how much he was abusing me and even grooming me to take the abuse, to be his slave, without me realizing how much I had already become one to him. He took away my strength, sometimes secretly, sometimes not so much.

These types of people tear you down. They do all of it this when it’s hidden from other people. I would beg for quite a while for the psychological warfare to end. I use that term because that’s really what it was, not only abuse. I would explain I was close to my limit until I react and I needed a break. The break would never come. I would snap. I became the bad person because that’s the only part of the story that was seen or heard about. It wasn’t believed by some when my side was told. 

I had to be secretive about working my way out because I just didn’t want to be homeless since could only get 30 days at Transitions of PA safe house & most housing assistance had a much longer wait list. So I went to a city where people don’t want to live because it’s a shitty place to live. Still it’s better than living in my car. Still, I was able to get out and despite it being on government assistance, I live on my own and no longer abused. I no longer live in fear of making a mistake or doing something he doesn’t like.

Despite having had a brain tumor twice and being disabled this is a much better life. I live for me. I live for the now. I have happiness and not that bullshit pretend happiness that an abuser provides. All of this here, it may seem like a lot. Like how could I not recognize that this was abuse? I was degraded and conditioned to stop seeing it. Others only knew the lie so others supported this conditioning. 

When I was ready to get out I had to tread carefully to avoid ending up living in my car with only the clothes on my back and my purse and phone. Then when I did get out I had been so conditioned I gave him some more time being back together. Just not living together, I made sure I kept my out, an out other than suicide that is. It took a few more months and I was finally able to fully break free. If you are going through something similar, please find a safe way out. Don’t let them know you are thinking about leaving and even if they never got physical before, the night you try to leave they might. So please, make it a point to leave when they aren’t home.