| "The path that I have walked" |
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"I place myself here before you, no longer hiding but openly exposing myself to you ... Inviting you to learn about the path that I walked within my life. Some of you may know bits and pieces about where I've been but you will never know every detail. We all take certain paths in our life with love and we all come to a hurting point but never let the pain conquer you, learn from it and choose another path." THAT WAS THEN ... I have survived and have recovered from being broken, bloodied and bruised, mentally and physically raped, judged, abandoned, brokenhearted, scared and deprived of my senses. Amongst a long list of other pains. Years ago I didn't believe that I would pull through ... I fought with myself constantly, drifting in and out of my suicidal tendencies, looking for an easy way out. My heart suffered, my mind near loss and my faith dissipated. I was weak, felt sorry for self and didn't want to take responsibility for the choices that I had made. I strongly disrespected my person and I didn't care whether I lived or died. THAT WAS THEN ... When I was younger, I daydreamed about falling in love, daydreamed about the day that I would marry, the children that I would have and the home that I would provide. Didn't we all? It never even crossed my mind that my life wouldn't turn out that way. I came close ... engaged. In a relationship that nearly lasted seven years. Three beautiful children, two gone before a chance at life. I was in love or so I thought. Perhaps I was in love with the thought of being in love. Again, I needed and craved it. I allowed him to become my whole world and those things that mattered most to me I made irrelevant. I was blind to what began to sprout before me, the lies, the cheating and so forth. I had placed myself in what I felt to be a safe place. To learn that I was wrong sent me into a fury. The betrayal took a hold of me. I became spiteful, dangerous to myself and rapidly headed down the wrong path. Have you ever been so entangled within another that the very thought of losing them makes you physically and mentally sick? I feared the change and having to find my way back to that cold road of loneliness, unsure that the next person who would come into my life would be "the one" ... THAT WAS THEN ... I struggled for a while with the heartache, wanting and seeking that familiar comfort within others. Hoping that love would open its arms to me. I found myself struggling through one relationship after another, enduring more mental abuse and physical pain. Pain that I had never suffered before, pain that I wasn't used to, pain that I never wanted to know. Physically beaten for entries that I had made in my diary that was entered years before he came into my life, beaten for speaking my mind and standing up for what I believed. Afraid to leave because of the threats that he had put into my mind. It was no longer me dealing with him one on one, but he brought his family into it. They too, were ready to tear me to pieces because of his constant lying. I continued on with the suffering, trying to come up with a plan to get out, not wanting to involve anyone else and fearing for their safety, I tried to do this on my own. The embarrassment of sporting black eyes, busted lips, bite marks and bruises had taken its toll on me. Along with his disappearing acts, taking off in my car for days, being locked out of my own home for the same amount of time, finding the belongings of other women in my apartment, having my fingers smashed in a can crusher in front of his family and friends ... as he stood laughing. And every once in a while, having the blade of his pocket knife pushed just enough into my neck or my side to make me whence from the pain that I felt. He loved my fear and loved to keep me guessing at what he would do next. On another occasion, during a heated argument that stemmed from the fact that he was supposed to run to the liquor store to grab himself beer and quickly return, so that I could go and spend the day with my girls. He disappeared for hours not returning until late that night. Furious and seeing nothing but red when he arrived, I quickly without hesitation let it be known that he needed to pack his shit and get the fuck out. And oh goodness! ... that word "bitch" ... a word that some women hate and some women pride themselves on, danced right off of his tongue and slammed into the center of my ear. My response was "I've got your bitch, PUNK!" and with my back turned to him, he pushed me in the manner as if he were trying to break my back. I fell, landing on top of my glass coffee table. The whole incident went down as if it were in slow motion. The glass cracked and then broke into two large pieces before I was able to raise off of it. One end hit the floor while the other popped upward, the rough, jagged edge just barely missing my throat but it quickly caught my wrist before it hit the floor and shattered. At first it felt as though the blood in my hand had begun to turn to ice and it went on like that until it reached my shoulder. I fell back and looked at my hand and wrist, shocked, rocking back and forth and taking in the sight of it sitting wide open, my skin slowly turning blue. The severed veins and tendons dangling and the artery squirting blood nonstop. It was terrifying and I screamed that I didn't want to die, I looked towards him and watched as he turned his back to me. I didn't scream those words solely because of my injury, I also screamed those words because I knew that if I stayed in that relationship, that it was a strong possibility that I would die by his hands. I stood, made my way to the door and then fell to my knees ... blood everywhere. He must have felt bad looking at the sight and he wrapped my arm and took me to the hospital ... telling me he was sorry and loved me so much. Over 60 stitches later, I cried uncontrollably it seems, nearly every single night. I cried because of what I allowed to go on within my life, I cried because of my fear, I cried because I would never regain normal feeling in my left hand, I cried because of how it happened and why it happened. He told me ... "stop feeling sorry for yourself " "because of me, your now a stronger person." "NIGGA WHAT?" |
| By Monica Chavis |
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