Last night my boyfriend and I got on the subject of why he is so afraid of trying for another kid.
When I first got pregnant almost 5 years ago, it didn't even cross my mind that it wasn't his... until he mentioned the possibility because I had been with someone else for a short time before I got pregnant.
My second son also is biologically someone else's (we were apart for over a year when that happened) and it only took a month to get pregnant while it took 3 years to have my first son (and I was with someone else about the time of that pregnancy). It seems as if he might be shooting blanks and the son we thought was his, may not after all be his...
This someone else was someone who raped and abused me. So because we started talking about that, I told him that I wish he had never brought it up...After four years of pushing that far into the back of my mind. Hiding it and locking it away. Putting it where it was unreachable that I was able to continue my daily life without thinking of it every day and sleeping at night.
Just to have it ripped to the surface again like an old wound.
I need to get this out. So I'm warning you now. If reading about abuse and rape will trigger something, please DO NOT READ PASSED THIS POINT.
The first signs of trouble started when we got into an argument, I did what I always do and fell asleep when he walked off, and then woke up to being choked. I called my ex-boyfriend, met up with him down the street and just sat and cried for awhile. I never told him what happened, he just assumed it was a fight and I needed to be around someone.
We ended up moving 3 hours away from my family and friends to go live with his dad. I still maintain that this was one the of worst mistakes I've ever made. A few years prior to this I had dislocated my knee and it's been a chronic problem since. A few weeks after moving to his dads, we got into an argument and he walked out again, so I fell asleep. I woke up at 2 in the morning to him storming into the bedroom, dropping onto the bed and then yelling at me. I got up off the bed to leave the room when he grabbed my leg at an odd angle and pulled, dislocating my knee. We popped it back into place and I used his dads old crutches for awhile.
About a week after that his dad called from work and asked us to bring him some waters because he was working down the road. We weren't from the area and ended up getting lost. So we walked about three miles before deciding to cut through the fields. We ended up about five miles away from the house before we finally started going the right direction through the woods. When we got into the woods behind where the trailers were, we got into an argument because I was hot, tired, and sore. He shoved me, I tripped backwards over a log and slammed my head into a tree.
One night, a few weeks later, I woke up because I couldn't breathe. My face was shoved into a pillow and he was raping me. I blacked out after a while because I was hyperventilating and couldn't breathe very well. When I came to, he started yelling at me that it was my fault, he was angry that I had made him do that and he sat on top of me when I tried to leave the room and pulled my arms behind my back, eventually popping my shoulder out of place. His dad had to help him put it back into place, and never once did he ask how it happened, nor did he seem to care.
A few days after that happened we went and picked up his mom (his parents were divorced) and her and I got into an argument because I had snapped at her son. That ended up in an argument with him and he ended up punching me. The next day I decided that I would just try and hitchhike my way back home and met up with some guys who were headed that way. We were out at the basketball courts and before they were ready to leave, he showed up. They left and when we got home he slammed me into the wall and screamed at me some more.
Eventually my ex started calling to talk to me because my mom and dad were worried about me, and he was the only one I was allowed to talk to because he knew I wouldn't tell him what was happening. But every phone call resulted in a black eye or busted lip. If my best friend was on the phone too, shouting insults that my bf could hear, he would threaten me with a kitchen knife.
My best friend Billy was there for me a lot and convinced me to call my mom. When her found out that I was trying to leave, he went ballistic, grabbed a knife and threw the phone against the wall. I grabbed the pieces, locked myself in the bathroom and called 9-1-1. He turned the knife on himself just before the cops showed up, and ended up being taken to the hospital for evaluation.
I stole his dads phone that night, called my dad and left.
and now I am reliving that. there is no peace. No part of my mind is safe and music, the internet... it only distracts for so long... so how do i move on? Because I don't remember how I fought through the hazy pain the first time.
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