Women Against Abuse

I started to see minor red flags. He tried to control everything – even what I wore for pictures. He was extremely jealous of a close friend of mine, even though we’d never been romantically linked. He tried to get into my phone to see my text messages, and took my laptop during one of our many arguments.

Then one day the abuse reached the next level when he put his hands on me. He threw me on the couch, took my phone, put my bags at the door and told me to get the Fk out. As I ran into an Uber, he threw a men’s Bible devotional book at my face. It wasn’t long before he started barraging me with phone calls, texts, messages on social media and emails begging for me to come back. Telling me he would change and be better for us.

This was the start of a spiritual, emotional, verbal and physically abusive relationship. Anything would set him off, and his need for control was constant. But I kept pushing back. I wouldn’t allow him to control me. And every time he verbally abused me, I would set strict boundaries. I would refuse to do whatever it was he demanded, and I would insist that he speak to be respectfully. But overtime, I learned that setting boundaries with an abuser only makes things worse.

As the abuse escalated, and our arguments became more volatile he would sometimes hold me hostage, restricting me from leaving his apartment. One time in particular he locked me in his bedroom. He towered over me for hours screaming, yelling, pinning me down, throwing me, and blocking the entryway to the room. I was trapped and terrified. When I finally broke out of his room, he blocked the front door to his apartment, refusing to let me pass. I acted quick and ran to the basement, where I was able to leave through the back garage door. He chased me as I ran the six blocks downtown and frantically called an Uber.

This happened multiple times, and after each crisis, he would blame me for what happened. He would call me slut, scum, hoe, smut. I started to have suicidal ideations because I was miserable and didn’t want to be treated like this anymore. When I would talk about killing myself, he would say that I was a “crazy girl” or “lunatic” and that he didn’t care if I did it or not.

Every time I tried to call the police, he would tell me that if he lost his job as an ASL interpreter and ABA therapist, it would be my fault. I didn’t want to be in the relationship, but I knew that physically leaving always made things worse. I tried to walk on eggshells to keep the peace and survive.

When he proposed to me, I felt forced to accept because I knew saying “no” was not a safe option. I tried to believe that he loved me; that the engagement would make him treat me better. But those pipedreams were short lived, because the verbal abuse and manipulation continued.

A few weeks later, I summoned the courage to call off the engagement and end the relationship. The harassment continued, so I told him if he contacted me again, I would get a restraining order. He finally left me alone. About two months after I returned the engagement ring, he had moved on to his next victim. I pray she finds the courage to leave before it’s too late.

Today I am celebrating a year of sobriety, a year of celibacy, a year of singleness and a year of healing. I’ve attended 25 sessions of counseling and deep trauma work and still counting. I’ve taken self-defense classes and wrote a book called Calling Forth the Waves in hopes that I can help other women who are experiencing relationship abuse.