I am going to introduce myself, my name is Marcia. I would prefer to go by Marcy. I am 35 years old. I have two children, a handsome little boy, age 3, and his name is Leland. I have a beautiful little girl, age 1, and her name is Sara. These two little people are the reason I breathe. They are the reason I wake up each morning. I am single; I work part time, go to school full time and take care of my children alone.
But to give you some background on why I am the way I am, I am going to tell you a little about why I am such a passionate voice for domestic violence. In January of 2003 I met this man; he had those eyes that burn your soul. Such a beautiful blue with lashes that women pay to have and still don’t quite achieve. We had a whirlwind romance, moving in together (at my parents’ home) after just 2 months of “seeing each other”. We got along great, he always had me laughing, always smiling, and making me feel like I was beautiful and sexy. Then just six months into our relationship we took on his then 3 year old son, we became an instant family. I loved being a mom to him.
We made got married in March of 2004. We made it to 2007 with no big issues. In 2007 my stepson’s biological mother died from liver failure (she drank a lot of alcohol). She was 33 years old, and my then husband took it hard, well that was in May. In June we found out my father was diagnosed with colon cancer. He and my father had formed a special bond, since my father treated him better than his own father. This is when the emotional and verbal abuse started. We fought all the time because I “was never home”. I was either working, taking my mother to the hospital, picking her up from the hospital, or at the hospital visiting my father myself.. I remember one night I got lost coming home because I was so completely worn out from doing so much. He screamed at me, telling me I was with someone else, wanting me to tell him who, why and so on. That was honestly the first time I was scared of him. My father died in December of 2007 and my husband (now ex-husband) was very compassionate, held my hand, held me when I cried, helped my mother in any way possible.
We made it through all of that, for the most part. In January 2008, he was arrested for assaulting a police officer and sentenced to 1 year in prison. Upon returning in May 2009, he was a completely different person. Became increasingly more verbally and emotionally abusive. I stayed because I loved him, and thought he could be “fixed”. We stammered through the next year barely surviving as a couple. In June of 2010 I found out I was pregnant with my son. After two miscarriages I was so excited, and so was he. This was honestly the happiest we had been since his release from prison. I was 16 weeks at the initial doctor’s appointment. I was past the point of miscarriage. Over the next few months we were in another honeymoon phase. We were so happy, and so was my stepson. On December 11, 2010 I gave birth to Leland by emergency C-section. While at the hospital I sent my husband home to rest comfortably since he was going to have to do most of the work when we came home. He did so reluctantly. Only to find out a few months later that he went home, got high on crystal meth and cheated on me. But I forgave him, not knowing he was still doing crystal meth behind my back.
In May of 2011, I came home from work, only to find him sitting in the same room with Leland smoking crystal meth. I called my family and had them come and get me and Leland. We left and were gone for 2 months, when he called me begging me to work things out. I agreed as long as he continued to take drug tests to prove he was clean, and he did and was. In late June 2011 we got back together. We moved to a house that had previously been owned by his mother. We did well for a while until I realized he had replaced the crystal meth with alcohol. He began verbally and emotionally abusing me again. It was in October of 2011 I once again became scared of him, when he began screaming at our then 10 month old son for knocking a glass of pop over that he had left on the floor (not smart with a newly walking child). I again called my family to come and pick me up, they did. This time we were apart for 3 months. He stated he had quit drinking and wanted to create a new life near my family, since we had been living so far from my family before.
He made several big steps trying to prove to me that he had changed. I agreed to give him one final chance. Telling him when we got back together that this was it, if it didn’t work this time I was done. We had to stay in a shelter because my family wanted nothing to do with him. In the first few weeks this shelter was empty and they put us in a hotel, rather than making all of the volunteers work for just the 3 of us. Well, newly reunited couple plus hotel equals a big oopsy. I got pregnant with Sara just a couple weeks after reuniting with him. We considered abortion with her, considering we were living in a homeless shelter. At the moment we had to make the decision to have the abortion or not, we got the letter for our housing. To me it was a sign she was meant to be. Well that is when he started saying she wasn’t his, accusing me of cheating, and we slowly fell back into the old routine of fighting, and accusations. Moving into that apartment was the beginning of the end
Several times I was forced to have sex with him, even though being pregnant I wasn’t wanting to. It became obvious to me if I didn’t have sex when he wanted I was going to pay. So I would just kind of blank out when he wanted to have sex. Until I got several infections (bladder, urinary tract, and kidney), that caused me to go into premature labor, at 28 weeks. I also remember during this time several periods of time that I couldn’t account for or remember. I was put on strict restrictions, no sex, no heavy lifting, large doses of antibiotics. Well he was angry, since he didn’t want her in the first place. He repeatedly forced me to have sex; pulling the if you love me you will crap.
On September 24, at 7 months pregnant, we were fighting in our upstairs hallway, screaming about the entire lack of being able to have sex. He didn’t understand it hurt, and it was dangerous for me and our daughter. He didn’t care. I told him to go to hell if he didn’t like it. Big mistake. He grabbed me by the face and slammed my head into the wall. I fell to the ground sobbing, he had never laid his hands on me before…….. He then grabbed me by the throat and dragged me into the bedroom and forced me physically to have sex. I cried the entire time. My husband, the man who was supposed to love me, had just hit me, and was now raping me. He made me feel so dirty, so lost, so empty. All of this happened with our almost 2 year old son watching from his bed. Later that evening, while making himself dinner, with a friend there, that I was scared to tell her what had happened; Leland reached up on the counter (nowhere near the stove), his father grabbed his wrist so hard that his fingers began to turn blue. I screamed, my friend screamed, and after arguing for a few minutes, he went upstairs. I made the decision as he was walking up the steps to be done. I mouthed to my friend “I’m done”. She said “ok”. A few hours later my son and I went to bed, for we had a busy day following. I was again forced to have sex with him when I got into bed, crying the entire time.
On September 25, 2012 he got up for work, I got up with him, made sure he left my phone, the foodstamp card, and the laptop. I have no idea how I got him to leave it all, but I did. We argued some more about me being up so early. After I knew he was gone for the day I rushed to go to the store, spending every penny on the foodstamp card because I knew he would call and cancel it. After returning from the store, I knew the courthouse would be open, so I went and filed a EPO (emergency protection order) and was told on the spot not to answer any calls, texts or anything from him. So I didn’t. I received numerous voicemails, each one increasingly more angry and hostile. I had the apartment complex change the locks since I had a dvo. At about 3:30 in the afternoon we locked the house down and sat and waited…….. And the moment we stopped to breathe is the moment he walked up to the back door…… Screaming, not understanding why we wouldn’t let him in the door. There were 3 people in the apartment on the phone with 911. The police came after about 5 minutes of panicking. He was served with the papers and removed from the property.
On November 6, 2012 I had my beautiful daughter. I was put in the computer as a ghost patient so that no one could call to find out what room I was in. He has never seen, held or kissed our daughter. She was born happy and healthy but soon began to develop eating issues. She threw most of what she ate up, the doctors blaming acid reflux for the problem. A friend called me and told me that she had spoken to my estranged husband, and I told her I didn’t care to hear it. Until one day my daughter had to be given CPR to breathe again. The doctors said she had an allergy to protein. The allergy she had was 95.7% caused by drug use while pregnant. I never did drugs, barely Tylenol, just antibiotics that were prescribed. I called my friend and told her to talk……. A moment I can’t take back. She told me that while out with her friend she ran into my drunken ex and he confided in her, thinking she no longer spoke to me, the he had given me drugs to knock me out, so he could get strange men off of Craigslist to come do whatever they wanted to me. Basically he was drugging me so other men could rape me, he admitted to my friend of 5 times this happened, I remember none of it, but my mind likes to create the things that possibly happened, or at least I hope.
My now ex-husband, divorced officially December 19, 2013, is sitting in a jail cell having been sentenced to 10-20 years. I do the best I can with what I have been through. I am going back to school to become a Victim’s Advocate, working for the division chair of the criminal justice program at my college. I plan to transfer to the nearby university to get my bachelor’s degree in criminal justice. I have amazing people in my life, that help and encourage me. My children are thriving and growing and very happy. So with all of that said and stating this in writing, I go from victim to survivor.
Read more at http://blogjob.com/hitmenomore/2014/06/18/story-of-a-survivor/#zQ6ifpSbBT8AMMHG.99