Love is patient, love is kind.
It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking,
It is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.
It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
Love never fails
The Bible tells me what love is…this is what I believe
My mind is a cloud. I don’t remember the specific details of each hit. I do remember the types of things that would cause them. I remember the bruises, the headaches, and the heartaches. I remember the lies I had to tell in order to hide what had been done to me. I remember feeling desperate. I remember feelings like I didn’t want to live any more.
It could have been because I looked at someone when I left work and smiled as I said bye; that meant I was cheating on him. He would question me and if I said no, he would call me a damn liar and back up his words with a punch.
It could have been because I stood behind him while in a meeting, that meant I was trying to hide so I could flirt and again I would pay for it when we were alone.
It could have been because I got a call on my cell phone that was the wrong number, and that meant I had a secret code to meet someone; again a reason to hit me.
Most of the incidents were because he thought I was cheating on him or lying to him. At first I thought it was romantic that he was jealous. After all, I had never experienced a kind of love where someone actually loved me enough to care what I did. My thoughts of romance were soon replaced with thoughts of death. There was one incident when he threw a dog bone at me and hit me in the head. My head cut open and started to bleed. There was another time he kicked me in the stomach. Another punch was to my eye, which caused my contact to cut my eye. Usually it was a punch. I say a punch because that is what it felt like to me however, there were many times when he said he “barely tapped me”. Those “taps” always seemed to leave bruises on my body. One incident left me with a black eye and the white of my eye was so filled with blood that I had to wear an eye patch to work. I am sure no one believed the lies I told about the patch after all the bruises they had seen on me. I tried to cover the bruises with make-up, I am sure people saw through my attempted cover up.
I was in an abusive relationship before and I always said I would not ever allow this to happen to me again. When you are in the middle of an abusive relationship, you cannot think straight. You are too busy thinking about you next move and how you are going to survive from one day to the next.
There is not much more to say about this. It is what it is. As much as the physical abuse may have hurt me and as bad as the descriptions may seem, they were actually nothing compared to the mental/emotional abuse. The physical affects would eventually heal however, the mental/emotional scars could last a lifetime.
Through the beginning phases of this abuse, I still had no idea my husband was addicted to crack. Maybe if I would have known, some of these things may not have occurred. Maybe, I would have been able to understand the hurt he was feeling that caused him to react the way he did. Maybe I would have been able to look at him differently and therefore see myself in a different way. Maybe I wouldn’t believe that I deserved what I got because he was the person with the problem not me. Maybe….just maybe….
Love is not supposed to hurt
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