I don’t know if I should be writing about this or not, but it often consumes me and on a daily basis and I know there just has to be a way to move on without falling any deeper into a dark place than I already have. I’m scared that I won’t, scared that I never will. I just wish somebody would fix me sometimes or tell me what to do, how to do it …

I’m gonna try to keep it brief, but to the point. I’m as desperate to be understood as I am forgiven for my stupidity.

Please know that I’m not doing this for pity, as it’s embarrassing, humiliating and I’m desperate to put it behind me, I’m hoping that sharing it will help me – hopefully I’ll not regret it and delete this blog afterwards or in the days to come as I’ve huge plans for myself, my kids and our well-being.

Here goes.

My last relationship was an unhealthy one.

When I met ‘S’, he was charming, sexy and said all the right things. People warned me of his sexual history, his reputation for betraying friends in one way or the other and how some of his family ‘had no use for him’. But to me, it was all gossip and this being a small town, there’s always rumours about any given person for a number of reasons. He treated me wonderfully, so I decided to continue with the relationship and let things fall where they may.

The first several months were fine, we laughed, entertained our children together, started making future plans, etc. Felt like we were a ‘family’. He had 3 children as well, and his only son, his oldest, lived with him … and within a year they moved into our house.

The first few months were great, nothing seemed to change and I was happy, I thought we all were. I came home one day from shopping and showed him a shirt I’d purchased, a pretty pink blouse that showed a wee bit of cleavage, he became irritated, threw the shirt onto the floor and told me I wasn’t wearing it. From there things started to escalate … he started to control what I wore, where I went, who I talked to, screened my calls, checking my cell phone, etc. It really felt as though we went from happy to hell over night, I often ask myself how I let it get to the point it did.

At the time I was working security and would often be posted at a local hotel where they had a club and camping grounds. At random, he would text me and ask me what I was doing, who I was talking to and I’d often reply with the usual ‘just hotel guests’, or brush it off and try to change the subject, it was a little difficult to answer, I mean, I was at work. Imagine being a waitress and trying to answer that very question. Sometimes, they’d have somebody else working with me, a man naturally, as I was the only girl working for them at the time.

His text messages started to become non stop some nights, I’d barely have enough time to answer one before getting another, but they were getting more and more odd. You know when you have a conversation with someone and sometimes they’ll tap your forearm or whatever with their fingertips kinda thing? His text messages would say things like “since when are co-workers allowed to touch each other” or “when you make your rounds around the camping grounds, are you really walking or are you going off to fuck/blow him”, etc. Just started getting crazier and crazier, I of course, would say “nobody is touching anybody” and he’d come back with the most obnoxious accusations. Come to find out, he was sitting in the parking lot, all those hours, all those nights watching me.

I know what you’re thinking, enough is enough and I should’ve put him the hell out, but it was already to the point of shoving, and him placing a knee on my chest to hold me down – not letting me leave the room when we argued or telling me he wasn’t leaving and if I tried forcing him out, he’d do this that or the other thing. I knew by the time what he was capable of doing, so yes, I was afraid of him. He was loud, big and intimidating, I’m 5 2″ and at the time, may have weighed 120lbs.

He cheated, he lied, he kept his old apartment and met young girls there on his lunch breaks. He stole money and other possessions from his family and friends, the list goes on and on. I didn’t learn of some of these things till very late in the relationship, that, or the wool was simply pulled over my naive fucking eyes and I didn’t wanna believe what I was seeing.

I guess he’d gradually had enough himself … I was at work one afternoon and my youngest son called me, he had just gotten gome from school. He told me that ‘S’ was gone, and the house was empty. I panicked, left work and when I got home – I thought I was going to DIE. He’d taken everything, groceries, furniture and all the kids clothes (told a mutual friend, he didn’t  know if the clothes belonged to my sons’ or his).

I was devastated, happy he was gone I think, but shocked and hurt just the same. I remember going for a drive, with the music cranked loud, windows down low and just screaming and crying thinking OMG what the fuck has happened, how did I get here?

Over the next few days I learned a lot about him (as stated above), I’d had a young girl come to me, claiming she was 4 months pregnant, and his father came to me ‘warning’ me of various other things and telling me he didn’t want to see me ‘lose’ anything else, etc.

Gawd, this is so long – I don’t blame anyone for not reading it.

The 3rd day after we’d broken up, I was out with a girlfriend talking, crying, doing the usual stuff we do when a relationship ends badly. I arrived home approx 1am. He was in the driveway. I got out of the car and he said to me, get into the van. I walked past him and didn’t say anything. He told me again to get into the van and that he only wanted to talk. Again, I ignored him. He yelled at me and said I’ll give you two choices, you can either get into the van or I’m going to put you into the fucking van. So, I got in.

He pulled out of the driveway, headed for the highway and once on the highway, started yelling at me asking ‘who were you with’. Dumbfounded, I said nothing at first … then quietly said, no one. He pulled into a very dark area off the highway, short little dirt road, more like a driveway, only it was dark, with lots of trees which kept it well hidden from anyone passing by.

He continued to yell at me, and started to say things like ‘I was going to know what it felt like to have 2 cocks in me in one night’ … spit flying when he yelled, grabbing my arms, not letting me speak, I was crying and afraid of him. He knelt in front of me, shimmied my pants down and actually smelled me, still accusing me of ‘being’ with someone. He started getting rough with his hands and wouldn’t stop screaming in my face, telling me he outta fuck me for spite, etc, etc. I told him to stop being so fucking crazy, get off of me and he hit me in the face, I could taste the blood on my tongue. With one hand around my throat and the other one ‘guiding’ himself, he managed to force himself into me as I cried and said to him, why are you doing this over and over …

I thought I was going to die that night, he could’ve killed me and no one would’ve been able to do a damn thing about it till it was too late.

I remember afterwards, he sat in the back seat and cried and cried, telling me how much he loved me and that he was ‘sorry’. I don’t remember feeling anything at that very moment, I don’t even think I was crying anymore. He then asked if I had an extra 20 bucks.

I eventually reported this, gave a video statement and went through the entire process of going through a trial. Only to be called in by the senior district attorney (I believe that’s what SHE called herself) and was told that it wouldn’t really result in anything more that me being the one being drug through the mud, etc. Basically she was telling me it wasn’t worth going through with. I couldn’t speak, hung my head in shame, fought back the tears and left. I was given a $2000 bursary from victim services for counselling, but it has since run out. I did speak with one woman, I explained it all, relived it in my mind when I told her about it – only for her to call me the next day and say that she didn’t think she was the right fit. So I didn’t bother pursuing anyone else.

I fear hitting the ‘publish’ button on here, fear being judged, but thankfully – if I regret writing about this I can simply disappear. That’s the reason I tried to keep the details to a minimum, though it’s still long I know, but …

This replays in my head often, every single day, every single detail. I don’t think I hate him, maybe I should, but in any event – one thing I’m very certain of, is that I wish nothing but misery in his life.