I finally saw the light.

by Texas Survivor
(Texas)

High School Years

I was 14 when I met my abuser in the fall of 1998 at age 14. I was already a broken, beat down little girl due to the abuse I'd witnessed and suffered. And, my new boyfriend *Jake seemed to understand because he lived with this woman who did not seem to love or care for her son at all. Jake and I were kindred spirits, soul mates. I remember feeling safe because I could call him in the middle of the night and he'd stay on the phone until I stopped crying. When he learned the extent of the sexual abuse I experienced at home, we came up with a plan to run away to Mexico and get married. At 14 and 15, you think that your love can survive anything. Four months into our relationship, Jake's best friend was murdered by a group of boys Jake called friends. The crime shocked our small town and sent Jake into a downward spiral. He'd get angry and storm off after calling me names. He'd threaten to kill himself and say the only thing keeping him going was me. He was using cocaine and pills to numb the pain of losing his friend. One day, Jake shoved me. I turned around and told him to stop. Then he shoved me again and I drew my knee up instinctively and kneed him in the groin. He backhanded me across the face. I remember my heart breaking and feeling like I could strangle him all at the same time. I ended the relationship right then.

The next few years were interesting. Jake and I became friends after a brief period of not talking to one another. One day I called Jake only to be told by his mother that she'd sent her trouble-maker son to live with his father in another city. I wrote him a few times, but mostly, we didn't speak again until I was 16. Then I reconciled with Jake. We were blissfully happy, as we were the first months of our relationship two years before. I moved out of my mother's house just before my 17th birthday and began living with Jake and his mother. I was still in high school and working and Jake would walk to my work so that I didn't have to walk home alone. It wasn't perfect, but we were as happy as two teens in that situation could be. Then it fell apart. Long story short, he spent six months in jail for defending me against his own family. I moved back in with my mother and graduated from high school a semester early. When Jake was released, things were okay for a while. Then, as it happens with drug addicts, he began using again. Cocaine and meth changed him. Suddenly, he was suspicious of a young man that gave me a ride home from my second job each night so that I didn't have to walk home alone in the dark in a bad neighborhood. After a nasty fight, I went to work and he followed me, berating me each step of the half-mile stroll. In the parking lot of the burger joint, he called me a whore, accused me of sleeping with my co-worker again, and shoved me. I fell to the ground. The co-worker in question (*Tim), another friend, and my supervisor rushed to my aid. The next morning, I returned to my apartment expecting to find Jake asleep. Instead, he was wide awake and beyond irate. He scolded me, pushed me to the ground, and assaulted me. I found my own place and briefly dated Tim, the guy from work. Then Jake came to my work one day and begged me to come back to him. He swore he would change and get help. I was vulnerable to the begging because I'd heard that Tim was considering getting back with his ex. Jake and I reconciled again and things went really well at first. He abided by all the rules I set forth. A few weeks after I found out I was pregnant. Jake seemed happy and things went well for another month or two. Then I lost my job and things fell apart. By December, Jake was back in jail for failing to fulfill the terms of his probation for the gun charge stemming from his arrest while defending me. He had shoved me a few times, but the final straw was when he pushed me in the front yard of my parent's home. I was almost relieved when he went to jail, but I was lonely..

The next five years were interesting to say the least. Jake and I were over forever in my mind. I focused on raising my son, who was born in the Spring of 2003, and attending school. I met and married a man there and we had two little girls before separating in the fall of 2007. Then, Jake contacted me in December 2007, asking if I would ever let him be a part of his son's life. I resolved to be a friend to Jake and help him get on his feet (he had no family to turn to) so that his son could see him turn it all around.

2008 - 2011
Jake got out in February of 2008 and immediately began working for my friend (his first day was a week after he was release). He worked hard and helped me pay bills. He was wonderful with my son and even helped me with my other two children. We reconciled after a month and things were great. Even after he lost his job. He went back to school and began taking courses for a degree. Part of his grants went towards the household bills. Then, in October 2008, I got the shock of the century. I was pregnant again. And this one was so surprising because I'd had tubal ligation surgery in 2006. Despite the odds, the pregnancy was healthy and I carried to term. Then, our little angel was born in May 2009.

It all changed one July night. I tried to leave after an angry confrontation, but he pushed me back and blocked the only exit to our bedroom. Jake's wild arm swinging knocked the carrier off the bed. Luckily, baby girl was fastened in and unharmed, but terrified. I tried to squeeze past Jake to get to her, but he shoved me so hard that I flew back six feet and slammed my head on an armiore. I blacked out for a few seconds and came to with him begging for forgiveness.

I had a major medical crisis when the epilepsy that I'd suffered with as a child returned. Without warning, I had a tonic/clonic seizure. After that day, I had seizures at least twice a week. In addition, my Papa was diagnosed with cancer. By the time the diagnosis came, it was too late. I spent most of that summer at my Papa's bedside when I wasn't at work. Jake resented that. Then August 2010 came and I found out that Jake had burglarized a local store and set a small fire inside. I was livid, beyond angry. One night, as my grandfather lay in hospice and I was at home preparing to take my little boy in for surgery the next morning, Jake started an argument with me over the car. He yelled and cursed. I threatened to call the police about the burglary. Jake shoved me into a steel door headfirst. As I came out of a seizure, Jake looked at me and said, "See, if you tell anyone about it, I will kill you. And then I'll kill them (the kids)." I told him it was over and that he had 30 days to get the hell out of my house. The next day, my son had surgery and we spent the rest of the day in my Papa's room. Papa passed away that night. Jake refused to go to the funeral, to the viewing, to the wake.

I spent 30 days frustrated and terrified and just waiting for the other shoe to drop. I went to lunch with my mother and Jake called me all day long. When I got home, Jake was livid because I didn't take his calls or bring him food. I said that since we weren't together I didn't have to do those things. I turned to pick up my crying 1 year old and felt a jarring pain in my lower back. The next thing I know, I'm on the floor, my baby beneath me and my feet tangled in the splintered remains of a baby gate. Jake had kicked me when I turned my back. I gathered my baby in my arms and checked her for injuries. She seemed okay, so I tried to leave the house. Jake began struggling with me for my baby. I refused to give up so he wrenched my arm back and up until a sickening pop filled the room. I went limp with pain and he snatched the baby from me. I ran for my phone and Jake dropped our baby so that he could chase me. She screamed in pain and I dialed 911. Jake disconnected the call and pinned me against the back door begging me to forgive him. I couldn't get to my baby because he blocked my path so I ran to get help. Then Jake appeared, carrying my baby. He brought her to me when he saw that my neighbors were watching. I took her from him and walked away, refusing to listen to him as he begged forgiveness. The police arrived. As soon as I knew that Jake was safely in handcuffs in a police cruiser, I showed the police my injuries and then told them about the other crimes Jake had committed. See, in Texas, a first time family violence charge is a misdemeanor that carries a maximum sentence of 1 year in jail and a $4000 fine. Making sure that Jake faced another crime would increase his bail amount, making it harder for him to get out and hurt or kill me or my babies.

After months of therapy I realized that the abuse I suffered as a child made me vulnerable to the domestic abuse. That didn't make the consequences of the abuse any more bearable however. I lost custody of my older two daughters when my ex-husband learned of the assault. I lost a good job and my health benefits. I dropped out of school. My credit was destroyed. But time does make things better. Jake faces 20 years for arson – 20 times the maximum sentence for family violence.

It’s been more than a year this occurred. I get a little stronger every day. I lost 60 pounds. The seizures slowly but surely stopped and I'm getting off the meds now. I am with the most wonderful, gentle, loving man who works hard to take care of his family. He loves my children as if they are his own. He and I will get married later this year and we are already in the process of terminating Jake's rights to my son and baby girl. My fiance will adopt them a week after our wedding. My fiance is none other than Tim, the co-worker from ten years ago. Sometimes I kick myself because I could have had him the entire time.

You can make it out, like I did. Don't be afraid or embarrassed to ask for help. Get out before it destroys you.