It starts young…

Originally published in June 2015 on victoriouswomen.com

It starts young

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It was my thirteenth birthday and he slammed my head up against a car. No adults were around just other children. No one said anything. It was another incident I kept to myself.  No bruises.

I was about fourteen when he pushed me up against a metal fence. I got upset and pulled off his chain he gave me and threw it over the fence and went home. No one was around. I didn’t say anything. I kept it to myself. No bruises.

It was the summer of my fifteenth year and I found out I was pregnant.

As time went on the physical abuse got worse. I was slammed in bushes, slapped in the face, choked but no bruises. I had yet to reach my 18th birthday.

My 18th year and I’m almost an adult. I have a two year old son and a secret. The abuse continued throughout the years. I never questioned why. I knew why. Well at least I thought I did. He was jealous. He was insecure. He wanted to control me. He was just mean. I stayed. I became used to being mistreated but I knew one day it will all end in due time.

A second child later and in our own place things was getting worse. There was hair pulling, hitting me with a baby in my arm, snatching my children from my arms, yelling at the children, threatening both me and the children, and still the slapping, choking, and slamming against property. My first bruise. I remember trying to explain to my father that my busted lip was a result of me biting my lip. He didn’t believe me because he knew all too well. He abused women so trust me he knew. I lied to protect him from my father however at the same time I wanted my father to kill him.

Time goes on and it doesn’t end. At this point I am tired. It has gone on now for fourteen years. I began to fight back. It made things worse but I wanted to fight back. The inner strength in me fought back.

Three children later, almost 15 years later, the last time occurred. Infidelity became a huge issue and I was done. No more praying to God for him to die or I die. No more running away to other states and he find me. No more. He slammed me on the concrete and lifted his leg to stomp me. We fought in front of his friends and our children. No one stopped him, well only one tried but to no avail. The look on my children faces and the screams that were coming out of their mouth was my final NO MORE.

I prayed that night to end it all, to remove him from my life. I told him we were done and I wasn’t going to do this again. He went to jail the next month, not because of me. That was my answer to my prayer. I got out. I got out. I got out after fourteen and half years.

Many asked why I didn’t leave. Sometimes I ask myself why I didn’t leave even after 8 years. Well I was afraid. I had children. My esteem was knocked to the ground because of emotional abuse. I was ashamed because I couldn’t believe I allowed this to happen to me. I felt trapped. All of these thoughts played a huge part of me not leaving. It plays a huge part of many women not leaving. There are many reasons why women don’t leave.

But the purpose of this blog is to say it starts young. There are too many young girls that are in the situation I was in. It is our secret. Many times these young girls go on to marry these same abusive men. It is our secret. Please speak to your daughters about self love, abuse, and telling someone. It can save their lives.

My story

Tahiyya xo

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