When Loved Ones Kill Each Other
past journal entry
Up until my early twenties, I really never understood domestic violence.
http://www.myfoxdetroit.com/myfox/pages/News/Detail?contentId=20285...
My siblings weren't raised around that sort of thing. My dad had rule in the house that said he was the only one allowed to hit. We stuck to that rule and to this day we get along no matter how mad we get at each other.
So when I would hear reports about sisters and brothers hurting each other, or children hurting their parents, I was flabberghasted, shocked and disgusted by the disrespect that was done to people who are suppose to love each other.
That also goes for two married people. When I would hear that some husband was beating up on his wife and some wife was abusing her husband, I felt that maybe they shouldn't have gotten married in the first place.
Just the idea of killing seemed foreign to me or wanting to do hurt to someone I care about was a selfish emotion that I didn't want to ever come to me.
Yeah, I had been hurt before and I had wanted to emotionally hurt back, but physical violence wasn't in my system until after I got married.
It was a year after I became married, I realized that it's possible for people who really love each other to hurt each other badly. My ex drunk a lot. He fussed and nagged and just complained about everything I did. Even when I did good, it would be months before that man said a nice thing to me. One time I went five months without him making an effort to kiss me on the lips.
Sure we had sex and we lived in the same house, but he never kissed me on the lips. It was the most depressing time of my life (since I'm a kisser) and he asked me (during this time) why was sex to dry? I told him to go figure it out. A week later I told him what the problem what and he said, why didn't you just kiss me? As if that had been the solution to the problem.
The physical and mental abuse started shortly after, along with more drinking and then drug use. I was very depressed about it even more.
Of course, I eventually left him because my father always told me don't let a man hit you without coming back at him and making sure he can't get back to hit you again. I knew my ex's death was immenient by the third time he called the police on me, cause homie didn't play that slapping around and just standing there looking like "why'd you hit me?" I'd slap, kick, punch back and he couldn't handle it.
Like my momma say don't come in the kitchen if you don't know how to cook.
I'm not a fighter. I've never had to fight in my life, but now that I was fighting and knew I could (I dated a bodybuilder, professional football player and a wrestler before my ex) I was going to town on him every time he hit me first.
He got tired of getting his butt whipped and started on the mental abuse. Then he tried controlling me. Taking away things from me, making me think I was worthless, trying to cut me off from my family, making me think I was ugly and fat (even though we were going to counciling and he'd try to make me say only what he wanted me to say during counciling).
I started sleeping with a knife under my bed and having vicious thoughts about how many times it would take to plunge this into his chest before he died.
I knew it was time to go then because I wasn't about to be a mother behind bars.
It was hard to leave because I had no money and no faith to strike it back out on my own again.
This time with three children.
I prayed and prayed for the Lord to give me some type of strength and know that it was alright to separate from this man who was trying to kill my spirit (even though I was still sleeping with a knife under my pillow and by this time, I was sleeping on the couch away from him.
That weekend so depressed and trying to keep my spirit up, I sat in one spot for two days and just wrote. The only time I got up was to use the bathroom. I even ignored the kids. When my ex spoke to me I ignored him. By Monday morning, I felt like I had just returned from a trip and was feeling better. I woke the kids up took them to school and then took myself to work not thinking about my problems at home.
When I came home from work, the ex was there and he cornered me and said, If you really love me you gotta choose between your writing or me. No more of that stupid writing Sylvia.
(of course this was provoked by our last counciling session because I said he had to choose between his drinking and smoking and me and his kids.)
I didn't think writing was as bad as his drinking and smoking, so I called my mother and told her what he said. She immediately asked to speak to him on the speakerphone.
She said, "You've known Sylvia for three years, I've known Sylvia for all her life. She's been writing since she was six or seven and if I (as her mother) can't get her to stop then only death can keep her from it."
He said obdurately, (look it up) "I don't care. If she wants me to make sacrifices then she has to too."
I wanted to save our marriage only because I didn't want to be a divorced single mother, but as
I laid down on the couch (checking to make sure the knife was there), I didn't want to be unhappy anymore and I didn't want my kids to think that it was alright to be where they were not wanted and unhappy.
The next day, I took off of work and brought boxes to the houes to pack up the kids stuff. I walked out with only the clothes on my back, my dvd collection, a stereo and the kids clothes and toys.
(I put the knife back where it belonged in the kitchen as a finality to the life I was leaving.)
As I was driving away from that life, the pastor who was counciling us called. He said, "Sylvia, I prayed about it all last night about you and BLEEEP (I did that) and the spirit moved me to call
you this morning, but I ... well, I thought I had heard wrong from the Lord, because I know the Lord has been a believer in keeping people together. But you need to leave him. As fast as possible. Don't spend another night under that roof with him."
I explained to the pastor that I had already done that and he was happy.
I had a hard time explaining to the kids what was going on and they were upset with me because they wanted to be a real family. But as time passed they got use to the idea that we were back to being a single parent family.
I don't know what was going to happen if I had stayed in my house, but sometimes i feel that if I had things like getting stabbed or stabbing him would have happened.
I thought about all this when I read todays news about the woman being stabbed in her apartment and it being domestically related.
http://www.myfoxdetroit.com/myfox/pages/News/Detail?contentId=20285...
I think about it a lot and pray I will never get into another relationship like that ever again.
I know my past marriage will be like a monkey on my back as I venture out into the world of dating and even when I meet a guy I really want to be with, but I hope the Lord gives me the strength and courage to try to bond with a man in order to receive and give love freely.
"To Love is to receive a glimpse of heaven" Karen Sunde
Up until my early twenties, I really never understood domestic violence.
http://www.myfoxdetroit.com/myfox/pages/News/Detail?contentId=20285...
My siblings weren't raised around that sort of thing. My dad had rule in the house that said he was the only one allowed to hit. We stuck to that rule and to this day we get along no matter how mad we get at each other.
So when I would hear reports about sisters and brothers hurting each other, or children hurting their parents, I was flabberghasted, shocked and disgusted by the disrespect that was done to people who are suppose to love each other.
That also goes for two married people. When I would hear that some husband was beating up on his wife and some wife was abusing her husband, I felt that maybe they shouldn't have gotten married in the first place.
Just the idea of killing seemed foreign to me or wanting to do hurt to someone I care about was a selfish emotion that I didn't want to ever come to me.
Yeah, I had been hurt before and I had wanted to emotionally hurt back, but physical violence wasn't in my system until after I got married.
It was a year after I became married, I realized that it's possible for people who really love each other to hurt each other badly. My ex drunk a lot. He fussed and nagged and just complained about everything I did. Even when I did good, it would be months before that man said a nice thing to me. One time I went five months without him making an effort to kiss me on the lips.
Sure we had sex and we lived in the same house, but he never kissed me on the lips. It was the most depressing time of my life (since I'm a kisser) and he asked me (during this time) why was sex to dry? I told him to go figure it out. A week later I told him what the problem what and he said, why didn't you just kiss me? As if that had been the solution to the problem.
The physical and mental abuse started shortly after, along with more drinking and then drug use. I was very depressed about it even more.
Of course, I eventually left him because my father always told me don't let a man hit you without coming back at him and making sure he can't get back to hit you again. I knew my ex's death was immenient by the third time he called the police on me, cause homie didn't play that slapping around and just standing there looking like "why'd you hit me?" I'd slap, kick, punch back and he couldn't handle it.
Like my momma say don't come in the kitchen if you don't know how to cook.
I'm not a fighter. I've never had to fight in my life, but now that I was fighting and knew I could (I dated a bodybuilder, professional football player and a wrestler before my ex) I was going to town on him every time he hit me first.
He got tired of getting his butt whipped and started on the mental abuse. Then he tried controlling me. Taking away things from me, making me think I was worthless, trying to cut me off from my family, making me think I was ugly and fat (even though we were going to counciling and he'd try to make me say only what he wanted me to say during counciling).
I started sleeping with a knife under my bed and having vicious thoughts about how many times it would take to plunge this into his chest before he died.
I knew it was time to go then because I wasn't about to be a mother behind bars.
It was hard to leave because I had no money and no faith to strike it back out on my own again.
This time with three children.
I prayed and prayed for the Lord to give me some type of strength and know that it was alright to separate from this man who was trying to kill my spirit (even though I was still sleeping with a knife under my pillow and by this time, I was sleeping on the couch away from him.
That weekend so depressed and trying to keep my spirit up, I sat in one spot for two days and just wrote. The only time I got up was to use the bathroom. I even ignored the kids. When my ex spoke to me I ignored him. By Monday morning, I felt like I had just returned from a trip and was feeling better. I woke the kids up took them to school and then took myself to work not thinking about my problems at home.
When I came home from work, the ex was there and he cornered me and said, If you really love me you gotta choose between your writing or me. No more of that stupid writing Sylvia.
(of course this was provoked by our last counciling session because I said he had to choose between his drinking and smoking and me and his kids.)
I didn't think writing was as bad as his drinking and smoking, so I called my mother and told her what he said. She immediately asked to speak to him on the speakerphone.
She said, "You've known Sylvia for three years, I've known Sylvia for all her life. She's been writing since she was six or seven and if I (as her mother) can't get her to stop then only death can keep her from it."
He said obdurately, (look it up) "I don't care. If she wants me to make sacrifices then she has to too."
I wanted to save our marriage only because I didn't want to be a divorced single mother, but as
I laid down on the couch (checking to make sure the knife was there), I didn't want to be unhappy anymore and I didn't want my kids to think that it was alright to be where they were not wanted and unhappy.
The next day, I took off of work and brought boxes to the houes to pack up the kids stuff. I walked out with only the clothes on my back, my dvd collection, a stereo and the kids clothes and toys.
(I put the knife back where it belonged in the kitchen as a finality to the life I was leaving.)
As I was driving away from that life, the pastor who was counciling us called. He said, "Sylvia, I prayed about it all last night about you and BLEEEP (I did that) and the spirit moved me to call
you this morning, but I ... well, I thought I had heard wrong from the Lord, because I know the Lord has been a believer in keeping people together. But you need to leave him. As fast as possible. Don't spend another night under that roof with him."
I explained to the pastor that I had already done that and he was happy.
I had a hard time explaining to the kids what was going on and they were upset with me because they wanted to be a real family. But as time passed they got use to the idea that we were back to being a single parent family.
I don't know what was going to happen if I had stayed in my house, but sometimes i feel that if I had things like getting stabbed or stabbing him would have happened.
I thought about all this when I read todays news about the woman being stabbed in her apartment and it being domestically related.
http://www.myfoxdetroit.com/myfox/pages/News/Detail?contentId=20285...
I think about it a lot and pray I will never get into another relationship like that ever again.
I know my past marriage will be like a monkey on my back as I venture out into the world of dating and even when I meet a guy I really want to be with, but I hope the Lord gives me the strength and courage to try to bond with a man in order to receive and give love freely.
"To Love is to receive a glimpse of heaven" Karen Sunde
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