When Emotional Turns Physical

On our one year wedding anniversary we moved into our first apartment together, for a while it was just us. It was non stop fighting and Michael wasn’t even one yet. He didn’t sleep through the night until he was almost 5. The mental and emotional abuse was terrible. Any chance he got he was putting me down, calling me every name you can think of, and as strong as I tried to remain, I felt lost but still I believed this man loved me.  No matter what I did I was wrong, and there was no way for me to prove him wrong. Whenever anyone was around us he acted like he was the best husband in the world. Now, don’t get me wrong although he disrespected me; He loved his son (Our other wasn’t born yet) very much. Michael was the only reason Mike had ever appreciated me. One 4th of July I had to work and we were fighting very badly, when we had arrived at my work he was threatening to take Michael and never come back. I truly believed he would try so as I was trying to get to Michael, Mike was attempting to hit me with his car and at one point actually did hit me. I finally was able to grab Michael from his car seat and brought him into my work. My co-worker and good friend took him so I could go into the bathroom and check for any bruising or blood and completely broke down. How could a man who supposedly loved you try to run you over for trying to protect our child. I was mortified and didn’t know what to do. I feared him, so never once did I call the police on him because I didn’t know what he would do to retaliate against me. I was weak, and alone because no matter what I said, his lies were stronger than my truth. I had a few close friends who witnessed what he had put me through, and a few that played both sides including family members. He was a master at manipulating people and 95% percent people believed him over me. Who would lie about being a victim of domestic abuse? I never wanted sympathy, I wanted someone to help me gain strength. I felt like the little girl I used to be hiding in my closet whenever my mom and her boyfriend were fighting. I tried to stay strong, but I couldn’t unless Michael was around, because in his eyes I was once superwoman. I read to him every single night and taught him how to read and write at a very young age. He may have seen me as superwoman but he was my superman.


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