Victims, Abusers, Survivors
As a victim of domestic violence there comes a time in that span of abuse that the abused can turn into the abuser. Now with that said, that person isn’t your typical abuser. That person turns into the desperate, feeling of all is lost and will take something extreme to get out of. I don’t recall whether I have spoken of these instances or not but to be honest with the cycle that becomes it needs to be told, even if I have already said it. Those of you that know all to well what that feeling is this is nothing new for you. I just want you to know you aren’t the bad guy. I was led to believe that I was the bad guy because of the things I did to him to try to escape that world I was in.
I recall one day,among many. Even though majority of this time frame he spent at someone else’s house. Another girl, who also had a child. She knew who I was but obviously felt that she was the winner in all of this because she had him at her house. Why do women seem to think that they are the “better” one when something like this occurs? Does she not realize that he would eventually do the same to her? How do you think you wear the crown because you are knowingly messing around with someone who already was involved with someone else and who had young children involved? I cannot fathom the processing in one’s brain on just how they can justify what they are doing. Nevertheless he ended that little fling with her, but not because of him growing a conscious. The point of the matter wasn’t whether I wanted him or not. It was the fact that she didn’t for whatever reason value herself and the lives of her children to not involve herself and her children in something so potentially volatile. Something that could forever damage the lives of her and her children. There are too many cases of spouses cheating with someone and it becomes a murder scene.
Love can make us do some of the most hateful things to each other, but can also make us the most compassionate on the flip side.
I’ve been so overwhelmed with fear of him. Not to mention the emotional, psychological, and physical abuse that you can’t even see, hear, or feel. He didn’t even have to physically be there or even under the same roof, same street, or same city yet the power he had over me wouldn’t even allow me to see any potential escape route right in front of me. He had been at work many miles away and I couldn’t get out of the invisible chains he bound me with. I have tried to kill him out of the desperation, fear and raw emotion of wanting out so bad I would have tried anything. I have taken some of my son’s seizure medication and put it inside his beer bottle while he was in the other room. I thought it would have dissolved by the time he came back in there and got the beer out of the refrigerator. The medicine was a chewable tablet so I figured it wouldn’t take much to dissolve but I was wrong. Maybe if I had crumbled it up some it would have dissolved enough for him not to see it. The funny thing is I only put like two and a half tablets in the beer. I am not sure what I thought it would have done to him. Maybe I thought it would have knocked him out or made sick. I know I didn’t think it would have killed him. The dosage was not really strong enough to do anything to a grown man. Hell it never made Dusty pass out. I laugh at myself now trying to get into my own brain to somehow analyze my thought processing. I also now look at the situation as I could have hurt my own child by giving someone else his medication not realizing that was a dose of medicine he was short. He didn’t run out of medication, didn’t miss a dose, nor did I have to get the refill early. I now know what I did was wrong, more along the lines of wrong by taking it away from my son not putting it in the beer. I don’t fault myself on the act I just fault myself on the path I chose to do it.
Just like others in desperate situations we can become momentarily insane. We seem to lose sight of right and wrong. We either willfully have a lapse in judgment or just truly don’t care. I am not one to speak on someone else’s actions to say why they did or did not do something to someone. I just know the things I did to the sperm donor …well …I guess I can say I premeditated my actions. Not everything I have ever done to him have I given myself time beforehand to think through what I was about to do. When I hit him with the car I I saw was him coming after me as I got into the car knowing he had pretty much forbid me to use my own car. So when I saw him walking towards me…I floored it. I was scared. After I hit him and he somehow still managed to get up off the ground seemingly unscathed, then he got into the car with his cousin and they proceeded to chase me well, I could only feel one emotion. That was pure fear. I thought if he caught up with me and managed to get ahold of me either I would have been severely beaten or I wouldn’t be here and you wouldn’t be reading this blog.
I guess my point is that those victims turn survivors will a lot of the time have these moments. We get tired of living in fear. One minute they “love” us to the ends of the earth and then the next will stomp the brains we think with. Sometimes it is because we chose to even have the brain to think…
I am forever a survivor and will fight to the death before I ever become a victim again.
To all of my new visitors, thank you for taking the time to read my ramblings. To those of you who have been following my blog ramblings…. Why? Ha ha. You have no idea just how supported I feel knowing you care enough or whatever the reason for your returns. It truly has been a weight lifting of my shoulders experience. ❤❤❤
Originally posted 2016-01-28 23:57:02.