Tales From Being A Mentally Broken Teenager

The physical and mental abuse started almost immediately in the relationship. I was just 15, and he was 17. I was not mentally strong enough to realize how wrong this was at first. I mean, my dad hit my mom, so I assumed I might have deserved to be hit too.

Driving down the highway, I am in the passenger seat gazing out the window. A car passes, and it is full of guys. SMACK! Right across the face, because he assumed I was looking at them. Blood drips from my lip, and I am stunned. I did not see that one coming.

We broke up often, and the relationship was turbulent at it’s best. He would never let me go for long. He would harass and stalk me to no end. And I would go back, but not because of why everyone thought. During this two-year time, I was protecting my family, and actually myself, in a sense. I learned early on that he was very mean, and what he said he would do, he did.

From stalking me, threatening me, hitting me, and driving me off the road (after I got my driver’s license) … there was no end in sight. So I always went back, because it was how I survived. It is how I protected my family from the promises of blowing up my house, killing my brother, and killing me.

I was kidnapped by him in the high school parking lot. Students walked by, no one caring enough to try to stop it, or maybe they knew better than to get involved with this crazy person. I was kicking and screaming, because I knew I was surely to die that day. By the grace of God, he did not kill me.

Threatening to bury me under concrete, throwing knives at me, raping me, my soul died a little more each time. Yet, my mind didn’t understand that I could have gotten out, and I could have gotten help. Mentally, I was still protecting my family and myself from what I believed he would do if I did not stay.

A teenage mind is not fully developed, and especially one that grew up in an abusive home. I would lie if asked where a bruise came from, why my lip was swollen, etc. I tell you, the locker hit me a lot. That was my go to story. I don’t know if my parents believed me, but nothing was ever said.

At some point, things must have gotten worse. I remember my father taking me to the District Attorney to get a restraining order. I believe I was 17 years old. That piece of paper was a joke. If anyone is a victim of domestic abuse, and has ever gotten a restraining or protective order, you know how useless they are. A piece of paper will not save you if someone is determined to hurt you.

I don’t recall exactly how I was finely able to be free of him. But one day, he just finally let me be. I learned from those years. I learned that no man would ever lay a hand on me again. I knew that if I was ever hit again, the person better hope they kill me. Because if I got up, I would certainly kill them.

This monster that took up much of my teenage years, ended up spending over 12 years in the prison system. He continued his pattern of abuse, but was incarcerated for manufacturing/selling drugs. He was released several years ago. He contacted me on Facebook. I was scared at first, mentally going back to that teenage mindset. But, I quickly realized he had no hold over me.

He apologized for the way he treated me. I thought he was sincere. Shortly after, he married a girl I went to high school with. I learned that he was very abusive to her, and did terrible things to her. Luckily, she was able to get away from him, and get a divorce.

I laugh thinking about his apology to me. He had not changed. He still thrived on beating women. A person like him, will always beat women, or anyone less powerful than him.

The fact is he is a coward.

I am sure there is a special place in Hell for him …