Chapter 1: The Gas Tank

This entry was originally written in 2011. I am not sure why or what for, but I just recently found it. I laughed and cried as I read it. Honestly, sometimes I forget that this was my life and sometimes I’m hit with triggers that I didn’t know existed. Its amazing how much the mind can bury something so deeply and when it decides to release little pieces of it, I sometimes cry uncontrollably.

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…she doesn’t notice how much time has gone by because she spent every day hoping for better days. One day she finally realizes that that day is never going to come. She realizes she just spent the last few years fearing for her life while embraced in the arms of her hero. -Except it wasn’t an embrace, it was a rear naked choke. And he wasn’t a hero, he was a douchebag. The only reason she was still there is because his arms were stronger than her entire body and she was afraid of what those arms could do to her. And trust me, there was no All4One in her house.. his arms DID let her heart break…everyday actually, along with some windows and doors. She remembers the first time; it was as quick as a snap and more painful for her ego than her face. But it wasn’t that bad and he said sorry and he promised it wouldn’t happen again.

It did. And no matter how painful and how bad the bruises, she kept going back to him. She must have liked it….

Until one day, she had had enough. This piece of shit didn’t fill up her gas tank. Whhaaatt??! HOW. DARE. HE.

She packed her belongings, her babies, and the little dignity she had left and ran away from her OWN HOUSE. Literally, her father OWNED the house! Who does that? She needed an easy out. She needed to start a fight because he was being SO good lately, so she started one. She packed her shit so quick and was gone before he got home.

You see, it comes and goes in intervals and sometimes you are met with months of no occurrences. You can finally breathe and think, “Wow, things are getting so much better. Everything I’ve hoped for is finally here. We could be a real family.” But you can’t. You no longer know what the triggers are. Maybe it’s alcohol, maybe it’s going out, maybe it’s because of how you cooked the chicken or the socks you bought. You think everything is good until you feel labor pains deep within your 9 month old pregnant belly, except you’re not in labor and those aren’t contractions; that’s a good right-hook to the kidney. You can hope all you want… but it’s never going to change. Or maybe it will?

I wouldn’t know. I was too tired and too scared to stick around and find out. To all who is reading this, please don’t get offended by my jokes; they are not meant to make a mockery of such a serious epidemic. This is my way of being able to talk about it. I laugh about it because I am alive to laugh about it. What people don’t know is that, although he is completely out of my life, there are still moments where I feel afraid. Living in fear is not the life to be living and we shouldn’t settle for that. We have to fight. Don’t fight for your partner. Fight for your life. for your safety. for You.

Whatever you do, just keep fighting. Literally, duck duck jab if you have too. If you’re gonna go out, you might as well go out with roar.

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This is just a small part of my story, but such a big part of my life. This was my moment where, somehow, I got my voice back. It’s a moment you never forget.

Love, Nori