I don’t recall exactly what happened earlier that day. If I had to guess, we both went to work in the morning, he may have worked out after work, and then he decided to go to the weigh-ins instead of coming home for dinner and helping with the kids.
The fighting schedule is hard to accommodate; excessive gym time, moody at home due to cutting weight, and out late nights afterwards to grab drinks. Meanwhile, I prepped his meals, I worked two jobs, and I cared for two kids.
Overtime, I couldn’t stand it. I absolutely hated his local stardom, and, after time, I just wasn’t about that life anymore. He already spent so much time away prepping for his own fight, why did he have to go to every weigh-in on nights when he wasn’t even fighting? Why was it so hard for him to just stay home and be a helpful partner?
At this time, there was a lot of things I wanted from him. I knew I wasn’t happy, but I held on for all the happy days. I lived every day between “it is what it is” and ‘’things could be worse.”
On this particular night, I don’t know what set me off, but I remember blowing up his phone and yelling all kinds of profanities and stupid shit. In retrospect, I was most likely jealous. I was feeling down on myself, had gained a lot of weight, I was depressed and tired, but did not know I had resources to get help. I remember being so angry, I found a bottle of shitty tequila and chugged it in utter self-loathing.
I remember wishing that something bad would happen to me. That I would somehow die of alcohol poisoning and that he would come home and feel really bad about it.
The phone calls turned into drunk, belligerent calls. I wish I remember what I had said, but something hit a nerve. And I know, whatever I said, was so rotten and horrid that he would have to punish me.
“You wait.”
That’s all he had to say to transition me into panic mode. I don’t think I’ve ever sobered up so quickly. Great. Now, instead of accidentally dying, he was going to kill me.
I did the first thing that came to mind; grabbed his gun and locked myself in the bathroom.
I grabbed the gun because it made me feel safer, even though there was no way in hell I could ever shoot a person in the face. The safety was still on to prevent accidental fire. I just wanted to use it as a scare tactic.
I heard him coming down the apartment stairs, barging through the front door. I remember hearing his cousin trying to calm him down. There was banging on the bathroom door and then he kicked it open.
There I was. Standing there with a gun pointing right at him.
And then BAM. He grabbed that gun so quickly out of my hands. The flurries of punching ensued immediately after.
I am fighting, for what feels like my life, and he is fighting me like one of his opponents in the ring. He grabs the back of my head, and then my face and his knee have a quick meet and greet.
Somehow, his cousin manages to get him to stop. He’s yelling mean things to me as he is being pulled away.
I’m in shock. I say nothing.
All night, I say nothing.
He tells me to come to bed and I quietly obey. As soon as I close my eyes, it’s morning.
I don’t know if I slept at all, but I remember feeling empty and dead inside. The right side of my face was bruised and swollen, so I covered it up as best I could and went to work. The nurses in the clinic tell me that my face looks puffy. I made up some stupid shit about having an allergic reaction to a dirty makeup brush.
At home, he tells me he is sorry, but I just made him so angry.
Then he tells me he loves me. And just like that, all is forgiven.
*******
Isn’t this crazy? What in the drunk fuck? LOL No joke, I surprised myself as I was typing this out. Can you believe I hoped for accidental death? That I felt I needed to DIE just so that he could be motivated to be a better person? Isn’t this just the stupidest thing you’ve ever heard?
Stupid but very real and very, very valid. The feeling of worthlessness and emptiness, like I’m stuck in a black, dark hole and no one knows I’m there. I was invisible.
I recently watched The Maid, on Netflix. There was a part where she sinks into her couch and into a hole. I could not have related more to her at that very moment. My heart and stomach hurt for her and for myself. The moment where the last of your dignity is snatched away and there is just nothing. No feelings, no thoughts. Just silence and darkness.
The fascinating thing about domestic violence is that you can feel a sense of danger and security at the same time. Hated and loved, happy and sad, valued and worthless. All at the SAME FUCKING TIME. It’s no wonder people think we’re crazy.
So even in my moments of darkness, I loved him. Even after an incident this terrible, we went on and had one more child together. After a really bad day, he’d hit me with a love bomb. If you’re not familiar with love bombing, it’s a manipulation technique where they overwhelm you with love, affection, extravagant gifts, etc. Anything to get him out of the doghouse and me into his chokehold. But my gosh, when the days were good, they were GOOD. His love bombing had me weak in the knees and head over heels. He was sweet and said all of the things he knew I needed to hear. I loved him enough to believe that the happy days were the real version of him and hoped that he would stay around for good. The man that I needed and wanted so badly would show up for me. Because after all, he loved me, too.
I know I’ve mentioned this before, but I often forget this used to be my life. I often forget that I used to be this person. But I also want to point out that I am, very much so, the same person.
Growing up, I was smart, opinionated, confident. I had a profound sense of self. I was strong. Never did I ever think I could be a victim of abuse. I was not weak.
This is a common perception of victims of abuse, that victims are targeted because they are weak. Some studies show that abusers don’t target those who are vulnerable because there is nothing to gain from them. Instead, some abusers target people you least expect; the beautiful, the confident. These abusers enjoy the challenge of gaining control over someone who is vibrant and strong. *
I don’t want to toot my own horn, but I must have been glowing AF. LOL
In DV relationships, when things get really bad, we often find ourselves thinking about how WE can fix it. We exert so much energy trying to change things about US.
Maybe if I lost weight, he’d love me more.
Maybe he’s right, I was overreacting.
He wouldn’t have hit me if I had done things differently.
Stop this. WE ARE NOT THE PROBLEM.
The only problem that needs to be acknowledged is that we fell in love with a bad person. There is NOTHING you can do that will ever change them. Whatever you are trying or planning to try – spoiler alert – it will never be enough.
Why? Because the only time they’re satisfied is when you are hurting.
If you’re reading this right now and are in a similar situation – I want…I NEED you to know that you are not weak. They pick people like us because THEY are weak. They lack so much love and light that they have no other choice but to shatter ours just so they can shine a little bit brighter.
Everyone’s DV story is different, which is the reason I share mine. I may not know you, but I know one thing is for sure…YOU ARE STRONG. One day, you WILL wake up and realize there is so much more in life. It’s going to be hard, so you’ll travel light. You will pack all of your love and kindness and gift it to someone or something that is more deserving of your time. Want to plan a trip? Do it. Go back to school? Get it. Reconnect with your friends? They’ve been waiting for you.
No. You have NEVER been weak. You have only been tricked to believe that you are.
You have and will always be, worthy of love.
Love, nori ❤
A Little about A Lot 