Andrea's Story

My Story

I’m not sure that I can accurately depict my life during the decade of my previous relationship and only marriage, but I am willing to try. I remember my relationship with my ex-husband starting off as what felt like intense flattery and pursuit. There were times where I recognized the red flags, but he portrayed himself as a genuine man with only good intentions. He was fun, lively, kind, & made every attempt to win me over in big, meaningful ways. I slowly let my guard down and he slowly started to show his authentic self but only small parts within the first few years. I remember not long after our wedding his personality changed, and I began to see him more clearly. The first time he displayed rage, our first child was just born, and I remember feeling terrified, for myself and for her. I couldn’t imagine that I had chosen such a monster to start a family, but as soon as the monster showed his face, the charismatic charmer that I fell in love with appeared just as quickly. Over the course of the next few years, he would control the money, how I dressed, where I went, and with whom I spent my time. The arguments and accusations were so overwhelming that I complied just to get peace. I found myself isolated from friends and family and slowly I lost sight of who I was. I lost my voice, my freedom, my identity, and my values started to become his own. I was alone and tired. He would leave and I would have to pick up the pieces after he wreaked havoc when he was high or spending money, and I often found myself in debt. The embarrassment from small town gossip became too difficult to manage and I lacked the confidence and strength to leave him; I didn’t think I could do it on my own, even though I was an educator and was previously strong and independent. He had broken me down. When I would feel as though I could leave, he would come back, and the cycle would start all over again. Unfortunately, the abuse deepened. The physical abuse increased and worsened over the years, and I worked diligently to hide it from the outside world, hoping that no one would ever know that I had endured such abuse and pain. He was intentional about where he hurt me, as he never wanted anyone to know. The bruises were always hidden by my clothing and my hair covered lumps as well. I was ashamed of myself and sad that it kept happening, and yet I stayed in the relationship. Once the physical abuse started, it intensified quickly, and though he never hit me with a fist, there’s not much he resisted outside of that boundary. I was the blame for the abuse and accused constantly of infidelity, which my character does not align with at all. There was sexual abuse, emotional abuse, and during my second pregnancy, it all seemed to peak. The experience of pregnancy, intended to be a special time, was one spent running for my life, with a four-year-old child alongside. We hid, we ran, we snuck out in the middle of the night; all for us to escape him. When I would leave him, the threats would worsen, the calls would intensify, and the stalking became overwhelming. He burned all of my clothes when I left once and other times put my sentimental pieces of furniture from family outside in the rain to be ruined; if I was to leave, I would be empty-handed, and that message was clear. I did my best not to leave because I was fearful for my life when I would. The coercion and manipulation were so extreme that towards the end of the relationship I actually had no sense of what was real and what wasn’t. In reality, I don’t know who that man is that I married. I only know what he was not. He is not who God intended to love me. He is not who God wanted for my children and me to model unconditional love. That was not love, although, to this day, I am not sure what it was. There are times when I question how I survived. I question why people that I loved didn’t say anything when they witnessed it. I question why people that I thought were my friends took his side and justified his behavior. I questioned why I was alone, in debt, without clothes, possessions, homeless, and most of all, I questioned why me. I don’t know that I will ever fully understand or even be able to recall all the events that took place during those eight long dreadful years. I can only say how terrified I was and how lonely and judged I felt. It took a long time for me to get to a point where I knew that I would never be able to make my marriage work and I would never be able to love him enough to take away his pain; the pain that bled onto my children and me. I do know now that his pain is not and was not my responsibility and that I had done enough, loved enough, and gave enough to detach forever. That wasn’t a marriage, his heart was not pure but that isn’t a depiction of myself and from that understanding, I could grow.