Let It Go, Part Two

I want to start this part of the story by letting my readers know that there is some graphic content in the paragraphs to come. I will leave out the details that are not for the page, but will give a summary of a privileged life turned upside down. The pretty little piano player, now music school student performing in local bars & cocktail clubs was determined to earn enough money to cover the HUGE tuition cost involved in being a music student. It was hard to keep up with, and I ended up taking loans from grandma on top of the loans I was already drowning in from Sallie Mae. I would meet a boy my 2nd year, a student also, a little older than myself. We would find a friendship on the things we shared: animals, art, music, travel. Everything was perfect. He had money, everyone knew him. Life was fun. I continued to teach my students and save my money, and pay my tuition costs back to grandma, FINALLY! I wanted to get her paid first. I knew those other loans weren’t going anywhere, but I wasn’t worried about that at 19. The years would eventually blend into each other, and that cute boy would turn into a raging drug addicted criminal that wrecked havoc on our little suburban neighborhood, and exercised HIS privilege more than any white man I had ever seen.

I can’t get into the details here, as doing so would not be appropriate, nor would it be safe for me to discuss. But I will say that by my 3rd year in school, the DEA was following me and trying to get me to help them nail him in a drug deal. I was scared. They said they would protect me from him hurting me again. I didn’t believe them, and I was right. He would go on to hurt me several times more before I would eventually get away at age 22, confused and really removed from the mom, dad, and grandma I had known growing up. So many issues we had. I was the kid with mental illness, so most of the fault laid with me. My parents were young. They didn’t know better at the time, but would move forward to care for my siblings in a different, more mature way. Eventually they would be faced with saving four of my sister’s children from entering the system. They were going through a lot when they had to help grandma take care of my sister’s oldest two. Running away from that guy would not be the end of the abuse I endured mentally and physically, but would send me into another whirlwind of abusive banter, physical pain, and a body and mind forever changed.

LIFE: Live In Freedom Everyday. I was now 23, pretty, thin, well liked, definitely privileged. But not free. He would sweep me off my feet with his downtown lifestyle and fancy job. My quest for freedom would begin with a marriage to insanity again I cannot dive into. Domestic violence is an experience no person should have to endure. Mental manipulation, gas lighting, and living in fear of tipping off your partner is something I have experienced for as long as I can remember now. I am used to giving in. I am used to being the only one listening. I am used to smiling when I want to cry. I am an expert at apologizing. And on that note…

I want to apologize for the graphic nature of this section. I have survived domestic violence. Saying that is something I have done in group therapy and individual sessions for decades now. I guess you can say I’m an expert. But what comes with my expertise is a life of being frightened, manipulated, tortured, ridiculed, made fun of, laughed at, hit, shoved, pushed, kicked, and hit with various objects (and into things).

REAL intimate partner violence leaves a scar on a victim that will never leave her side. She is now graced with its’ presence for the remainder of her own existence. Living with the lasting effects of PTSD and the disorders that arise from this has been quite the challenge. My heart is open to all women who have suffered in this way, but I am tired of the women who say they are abused yet have no idea what it means to have someone actually abuse you. Now, before you go reading this and telling me I am victim shaming, PLEASE think with me here folks. The drama queens are part of the problem! Those who feel as though they are abused by normal relationship battles and issues can you PLEASE stop crying abuse so those of us who actually have suffered from this can stop being accused of lying? It is hard enough to be believed, and even harder to actually have someone share your concern for your reality. If the women who couldn’t keep their relationships together and are bitter and forever looking to destroy the life of their previous man, can you please look at yourselves and realize YOU are contributing to more women not being believed? Can you please join forces with your fellow sisters and brothers, and realized the difference between victim and not? Before you endanger the lives of many more women with your false Hollywood antics and bitter sweet attacks.

I tend to speak on women as the victims in this situation, but please note I am fully aware of the nature if intimate partner violence in all forms of relationships whether that be a male, female, or both. Sometimes there are blurred lines, and it is easy to feel like a victim in a relationship. Naturally we all have a little bit of narcissism and don’t LOVE to be at fault for things. It might be a little challenging to accept responsibility at times, and all of us are guilty of being unrealistic in an argument. Crying abuse doesn’t help anyone. It hurts you, the person you are accusing, your children, and even furthermore the women and children who can’t get away because they know if they spoke up no one would even hear them. It seems to me that the loudest voices speak untruths while the silenced hold the truth deep within.

All of the violence set aside brings me to my current life. My doctors have helped me through a scary yet eye opening journey of discovery to a rare genetic condition I have: Ehler’s Danlos Syndrome. In my next blog post, I will go into detail about the struggles and successes I’ve had with this disease, and will explain how the abuse affected my body because of this disorder, perhaps more seriously than it would have affected a normal person. I want to share this with all of you because I can only hope that my story will help one person change his or her life for the better. I don’t quite understand the depth of my compelling need to share my story, but I can tell you it comes from a place of love and concern for humanity. I know that if I can overcome domestic violence despite it all, you can too, and this might be the day. For that person, I write.

Thanks for reading. Please look for my Let It Go, Part 3 post in the next few days :)

Peace

~Crys