I was born on October 23rd, 1987 in Michigan into a conservative Christian family. I had a pretty steady childhood, things were peaceful and happy. My parents were together, I never had to worry about where I would lay my head at night or if there would be food on the table the next morning. By all means I was blessed. 

My family ended up uprooting and moving across the country to Colorado when I was nine. By this time things between my parents were strained and the fighting became more frequent. 

When I turned fourteen I sunk into a deep depression. I began cutting myself and crying all the time. I hated my life. Around this time my dad became extremely verbally, physically, and emotionally abusive toward me. His anger was always directed toward me and I didn’t understand why. My grades in school plummeted, and I thought about suicide all the time. 

The physical abuse and his rage terrified me. I remember being pulled down the stairs by my legs so my chin hit every stair on the way down. I remember running and locking myself in the bathroom so he wouldn’t hit me. I remember running down the street in my bare feet trying to escape his wrath. I remember him hitting me, belittling me, and pushing me into walls. I felt like nothing but a giant disappointment to him.

When I was younger he was such a loving father so I didn’t understand why he had changed so drastically after our move. My mom started looking into reasons and trying to figure it out. 

My dad was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s when I was around fourteen. It was a shock to our whole family. When my mom tried to let my half-sisters and half-brothers from my father’s previous marriage know about his diagnosis and his behavior… they decided to disown my mom, sister, and I. We were liars in their eyes.

I was so hurt and so angry. I already lost having a loving father and then I had lost my half-sisters whom I was very close to and loved very much.

(Fuck them for leaving me when I needed them the most. That IS NOT family!)

By the time I was fifteen my mom served my dad with a restraining order and kicked him out of the house. It was too little too late. The damage was already done.

I started seeing a therapist and viewed the whole ordeal as total bullshit. I got put on Zoloft which helped with my depression, but my mentality was already really screwed up. 

My older sister was taking everything really hard too. She ended up in and out of mental institutions, was extremely depressed, and was extremely angry as well. She finally ended up in a residential treatment facility and stayed there until she graduated from high school in 2004. While she was there she was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and obsessive compulsive disorder.

My anger rose to dangerous heights. I took it out on my mom, she didn’t protect me like she should have and I was extremely pissed at her for that. I hit her on several occasions and verbally abused her much like my father did to me. 

(When they say abuse is a cycle this is TRUE.)

She finally had enough. CPS had been in our home because of all the police phone calls and I finally ended up getting taken out of my mother’s custody and placed in a girls group home/foster care.

That was not a good experience. The staff was abusive mentally and verbally. They showed no love toward the girls in there and no patience. They were cruel and took away all of our freedoms for no reason. It was hell. 

I finally turned 18 and got the hell out of there. Soon after, I graduated from high school. Class of 2006. I honestly don’t know how I made it through considering all of the bullshit I had been through with my family and friends. 

I moved into my own apartment and broke up with my boyfriend of 2 years. He had cheated on me too many times to count. My heart couldn’t take it anymore. I was his doormat. It was an extremely unhealthy and disgusting relationship. (again the cycle of abuse)

When I was 19 I met George. He was so sweet, cute, funny, but not my usual type. We became friends and eventually ended up getting together & my worst nightmare began.

(We moved in together about a month after being a couple.)

The first time he beat me was in a field behind a liquor store. We were both drunk and we got into an argument. One thing led to another and I said too many things he didn’t like. He grabbed me by the hair and dragged me to the field throwing me on the ground. He proceeded to put his knees on my shoulders so I couldn’t move or defend myself. He poked me in the eye so hard I thought I wouldn’t see again. When he finally let me go and I was cussing him out he ran full speed at me and punched me in the face so hard I fell backwards and hit my head on the cement. 

This was all in front of his friends. They didn’t do anything.

My friend brought me to the police station. EMT’s looked at my eye, they took photos of my scrapes and bruises. I couldn’t stop crying because I was scared and because I was so in love with him and didn’t want to let him go.

I pressed charges.

I also went back to him around three days later. 

(By this time we had only been together three months.)

I can’t count how many more arguments we got into. How even when I tried to change everything about myself it still wouldn’t make him happy. I never picked the fights. I became a shadow of myself. I was silent. I drank all the time to avoid my situation. I loved him and I did everything I could. I was a sick sad little puppy that belonged to an abusive sick disgusting man.

One of the scariest experiences was when he held a loaded gun to my head for the first time. I really thought I was going to die. I was terrified and he was so angry there was no reasoning with him.

(The second time he held a loaded gun to my head I ended up getting the gun and shot at him. The gun never  came out again.)

I tried leaving so many times. Then I didn’t. Then I came back. I became the woman I never wanted to “the battered wife”.

He terrorized me 10x worse than my father ever would have even dreamed of. 

He beat me in front of his friends, he beat me in front of his mother. Nobody ever helped me. Nobody except my mom who called the police when she knew I was in danger.

In September of that year a surprise came. I was pregnant. 

He tried to convince me to get an abortion. I couldn’t do it.

Shortly after that our arguing continued. 

One day when I was three months pregnant I got so fed up with being silenced, being treated like shit, and being his punching bag that I took his precious PS3 (that I bought him) and chucked it down the stairs. He chased after me, I thought he was going to kill me. I managed to get the door locked before he got to me and I called the police. 

After that we were through, he left me. I went through my pregnancy alone and moved back in with my mother.

I’m so glad he left me, even though I cried every single night I was pregnant and was terrified of being a single mom. I knew that my baby deserved a safe and loving environment & he would never be able to give that to her.

On May 5th, 2009 my beautiful daughter was born after 16 hours of labor. 

(Her father didn’t show up to her birth until 5 minutes after she was born and came in talking about himself.)

Adjusting to motherhood was far from easy. The lack of sleep, the soreness from labor. I had this beautiful little baby that wouldn’t stop crying and I didn’t know what to do. I was lost and I sunk into “post-partum depression”.

Slowly I got better and was able to cherish the time I had with my daughter and watching her grow.

She is by far the best thing that ever happened to me. She is the one who gave me strength to stay away from ‘sperm donor’ and gave me a reason to do better for myself.

I have dated since she was born but haven’t found anybody worth staying with. I have a much healthier idea of what a relationship should look like. I hope to find a man one day that will treat us both with respect and love and accept her as his own child. 

My dad was so in love with my daughter. Even though she was his 13th grandchild he loved her like she was his first. He was always there for me during my pregnancy and when she was born. He even bought me a car when I was pregnant so I would have a means of transportation when my little one was finally in the world. Even though he did all of that I wouldn’t forgive him.

Our family moved back to Michigan to be near family in April of 2011. The move was a difficult one. Shortly after we moved my Aunt died, then my dog was diagnosed with bone cancer so we had to put her down. My relationship with my mom was still extremely timultuous. I would get into really bad fights with her all the time and my teenage anger was back.

On October 27th, 2011 my dad died in front of my eyes of a massive heart attack that burst his aorta. It was the worst thing I have ever seen. I’m still grieving. It seems like he died just yesterday and I have so many regrets. Not forgiving him, not spending more time with him even though I knew he was lonely, I would do anything to change the circumstances and make them better. 

This has been my life and my dealings up until current.

I’m still single. Still a mom of a beautiful little girl who I’m trying to get my life together for. I still and always will love her with all of my heart and protect her. She will always be my number one. I will never let anyone touch her or make her feel like dirt. She is my everything.

If you have any questions please ask. I’m an open book.