The monstrosity has continued his almost daily abuse and harassment of me for more than two and a half years, almost three. One day runs into the next, and I’m losing count and track of the time.
It’s a constant game of him begging me back, I say no, then comes the brawl and degradation. A couple days later, here he comes again telling me that ‘all he wanted was a family’. I look at him puzzled because someone who wants a family usually doesn’t do a laundry list of unforgivable stuff to lose them.
You can’t get rid of these types of people because they just won’t go. It’s not enough that they ruin every single thing in your life, they want to be able to continue the abuse, continue the suffering, continue destroying and wearing down your self-esteem and reputation. I have screamed at him on countless occasions, ‘what more do you want from me, what else do you need to take from me’?!?!
You change your number, they find a way to get it or to harass someone close to you to deliver messages until they bug so much that you give in and call because everyone involved knows he won’t stop until he hears from me. They email. They use opportune times to get to you, so they can further work on your nerves. He has literally parked outside of my house for a week at a time. I came out and the flowers all over my car made me stop in my tracks, and gasp. He uses the baby as a way to tug at my fragile, yet still full, loving heart. The word ‘no’ does not exist to him. In his mind, he is the one who has been hurt, he’s the one who has been betrayed, he’s the one that I ‘walked out on’. I have his only child, his only son, and to him, that means he owns me and I belong to him so I better still give him the best of everything the way I always made it a point to do.
When we speak of things that happened between us, specifically after listening to the gory details, he says that he knows that he was ‘not nice’.
To me, that’s like saying that the Manson family only ‘kinda killed’ their victims, when in reality, it was a bizarre and most-severe massacre that would mark its place in history and affect generations to come.
He suffers from toxic amnesia, literally saying that ‘he never did shit to me’.
It has been awful in every aspect, but verbally, it is insanity. He has talked down to me, talked about me, called me names, given me backhanded compliments, yelled and screamed at me, made up lies about me, slandered my name, purposely embarrassed me, called my family and friends to lie about me and cause drama; it’s a never-ending river of putrid sludge that just oozes everywhere.
It goes on all day, all night; cussing, yelling, arguing, talking shit, calling me, telling me he loves me, begging me back, arguing, yelling, gaslighting, telling me he loves me, texting me, going in circles until I physically get weak and dizzy. I’m always trying to be logical and talk some sense into him, and it’s like trying to nail Jell-O to a tree. I have never heard someone talk so crude, constantly using disgusting words and saying horrible things, and just making me cringe. I have no choice but to say it all back, because I have had enough.
I am arguing back, talking shit back, being just as vulgar back, because there is only so much a person can take and I am well-beyond that point. Not only with him, but all his scumbag friends and clingy junkie-bitches, they all know I have had it too, because every single time I came across any of them, male or female, I was ready to fucking rumble, and each of them has backed down and won’t square up. There’s something about Puerto Rican women that gives us a sort of superhuman strength when blocking bullshit.
I’m done and over allowing him to project his ugliness onto me. Yes, I am in full snap-mode because I have dealt far too long with his abuse, his lies, his accusations, and his mouth just going and going. I have had to listen to his phony excuses, his made up stories, his sorry-ass explanations, and I’m having no more of it. He has pushed me to the limit a million times and I refuse to just sit here quietly while he instigates me to the point where I feel like I’m coming out of my skin and can’t catch my grip. I can’t even get a word out because there is so much to say back to him about his behaviour that I don’t even know where to start. It’s not like I can make sense of it anyway. I’m half trying to analyze and understand it, half trying to explain it so he can understand, trying to get some ‘feeling’ into him.
Somehow it’s always the person who causes all the chaos, who then sits back and acts oblivious to why the other person is hanging over the edge by their fingernails.
He did, and does this to me during the most vulnerable and painful and fragile times that I have experienced in many years, if ever in my life. Since 2018, it has been the most rough, mainly because of him, and all his baggage. To this day, nothing stops his endless drama. I left him a year and nine months ago, and it feels like I just left him this afternoon because the fight is so fresh in his mind, even though it isn’t. Nothing has been resolved, and if anything more problems have been created by him, piling on top of each other now residing in a large, tangled heap.
I think that’s why I’m having so much trouble forgiving him, because everytime I do, he comes back worse than the time before.
I try to just move forward with visitation because there’s just no way I could ever be with him again romantically, and here he comes with his dark cloud. And for someone who really tries to see the good in all things, even if it is ONE thing, everytime he turns something beautiful and nice into something miserable, it irks me in a way that is like hearing Styrofoam.
I feel like I can’t get away, no matter where I go, he will come both for me, and after me, physically or verbally, or both.
He chases me even in my nightmares. Even when I’m nowhere near him, the memory and the trauma of him is so real, and raw, that sometimes I just stare down the hallways in my house; like he will pop-up around a corner at any given moment. It goes way beyond holding him accountable, I just want him to really and truly understand what he did, and how he acts, and the contradiction of his words and actions. I want him to see it all through my eyes, and my heart. He never will, because he isn’t capable. He brought all this on himself, but he will never see it that way, so he will never really understand. Even if he did, I’m not sure he would even care.
A few Sundays ago, on the phone, we got into it again. I feel like I have three years of anger from everything he said and did to me and the moment he says one thing, that’s enough. My brain almost literally hears a ‘Ding!’ …. like, Round 1: let’s get it. I don’t have to just listen to it, I don’t need to just take it. I’m done trying to be the bigger person and I went off; to which he ever-so-calmly replies ‘listen to yourself’.
He can go wipe his boots on someone else, because there is no love here, no patience. You cause the extreme, and suffocating chaos, you better be prepared for the crazy because I won’t just smile and deal.
It’s like someone poking at you, and poking at you, and you ask them to stop, then you cry and plead for them to stop. You try to reason. You try to understand for yourself. You try to fix it. You try to find yourself a way through the maze. You take the blame for shit you didn’t do and would never even think of doing, things you in fact find to be repulsive. You take the blame where you are not at fault, just to avoid a fight. He still doesn’t quit. He keeps pushing and poking and prodding, and pulling, and pushing again.
Anger is all I have left, and I won’t apologize for it.
I won’t communicate peacefully with someone who has choked me, thrown me down, pushed me down, slapped me, pulled my hair, bit me, burned me with a cigarette as he smashed my body in the bathroom doorway, thrown stuff at my face, belittled me, and fought with me while I went into early labor because of him, even WHILE I was nursing his son…. NO!
I will yell and scream obscenities’ at him because I’m so fed up with all his garbage, him saying a bunch of trash about me that is nowhere near true.
I don’t need the help, he does.
I am not the one in the wrong, he is.
I never did anything to him but try to help him and take care of him because that’s what I naturally do, it’s the kind of person I am, intrinsically. Someone like this will force you out of your own character by systematically driving you insane, then proceed to tell everyone how crazy you are; the ‘wind it up, and watch it go’ type.
If I am the problem, the rest of my life and relationships would be in ruins, they’re not. His life on the other hand, is a shambles. His track record and mode of operation, are the same. There is no accountability, no remorse, no guilt; just him doing whatever the fuck he wants, leaving behind a trail of women, men, other people, and family members he has used, blamed, and taken advantage of.
I’m sick of him talking so ugly to me, then he cries and begs me back, talks shit again, declares his love for me again. He sends me pictures of him crying, and videos of him crying, and leaves me voicemails begging me to ‘give him another chance’. When I refuse, he doesn’t hesitate to remind me of why I left.
It goes from ‘baby, please’ to ‘fuck you bitch’ real quick.
It’s still bad, and I’m not even with him. I hear his voice in my head. I hear him rustling around the house in the middle of the night, being obnoxious and loud to wake me up or to keep me awake. I remember all the vile things he said, all the times I just wished him for dead. Then comes the love-bombing; verbal ‘jail-mail’…. everything you want to hear and nothing you need to know. And the thing is, I don’t want to hear him anymore, I want him to just leave me alone unless it concerns our son, and he won’t. He doesn’t believe, or doesn’t care, that I don’t want anything at all to do with him. Just because one ugly-old-bag he used to be with (a 50-year-old-basic-bum-ass-bitch, dope-head who looks like a sick old man, named nicole) actually loves him and wants him back, he thinks all women are as equally desperate.
One fight we had, I was screaming back at him for so long, that I lost my voice for THREE months. I didn’t even know that that was possible, but it happened. This was particularly troublesome to me because as a teacher, my voice (and my hands) are my job. It added insult to injury hearing ‘Miss Lisa, what happened to your voice, when is it coming back’? It’s so painful, to have to make up a story because of what someone else is doing to you.
Some women may just be able to take it quietly, placing the napkin on their lap to eat scraps and garbage with knife and fork, I’m not the one.
I don’t deserve what he does, and I don’t provoke it.
He keeps coming at me again and again, from all angles, and I just want it all to stop.
They only ever tell their side of the story, conveniently leaving out what started the beef in the first place. They only tell the parts that make them look like the big hero, or the big victim. I witnessed it on many occasions. He’d answer his phone and tell whoever it was that I was fighting with him about something and that I was ‘trippin’. Then I would chime in, ‘tell him wwhyyyy I’m trippin’ Chris’! The conversation would go quiet and they’d hang up, with me portrayed as the problem, poor him.
I’m just really over him lying about what happened and what goes on.
I’m tired of my name being run through the mud when I didn’t do anything to him, BUT LEAVE HIM.
There is action, and re-action, and if he doesn’t like being held accountable and being on the receiving end of my re-action, he shouldn’t do such foul shit.
I did my part, and I did what I said I would.
I walked my talk.
But he, is exhausting, and a complete mirage.
He turns everything around so much that it gives me anxiety and makes my stomach upset.
There is never the whole-truth, only little bits and pieces of the truth, altered in all the wrong places at all the wrong times. I wouldn’t even trust him to ask him what the weather was like outside as I was…. looking at the weather outside. I tell him straight out, ‘don’t even talk to me’. It’s so ironic how since I left him, all he wants to do is talk to me, be with me, and feel my energy.
Even though he has been trying for almost two years to mend what he broke, doing everything and nothing at the same time, I keep turning my head away from him. I don’t want to look at him. I don’t want to play with him. I don’t want to serve his plate. I don’t want to clean his house. I don’t want to share a bed or a bathtub with him.
I was very clear to him the day we met.
I told him straight out…. ‘Dont’chu ever try to fuck me, Tony’, but apparently he thought I was kidding.
I vividly remember a dream I had right before I left for good. It felt more like a premonition, and it scared me enough to make me leave just a few days later, never to return in a relationship or friendship with him, a dream that really helped me to stop loving him, or even caring about him at all.
I was asleep in my dream, and I felt myself wake up. It was like real time, and we were asleep exactly as we were next to each other. I was in the middle, Chris was on my right, and our baby son Jace was on my left. I looked above the bed, and it was just a large entity of space, the ceiling was not above us. I looked to the left in the darkness, and a huge black mass, even more black than the overall night, was moving very, very slowly towards us. As it centered over us, it swallowed everything; the sound, the love, the light, the warmth, the air itself, everything, it was all void and gone. Then just like that, the dream was over. I woke up, with my heart racing, and sweaty down my back, my body literally cold and shaking. I lay there feeling trapped, struggling to breathe, and forcing myself to stay put when all I wanted to do was get up and run. This night he was actually asleep in bed at a normal hour, and I remember looking at him, thinking, how in the FUCK did I get here? WHY, am I here? WHY would I ever choose to stay?
I’m not with him anymore and I can’t get away from him, because he doesn’t want to be away from me, he doesn’t want to let me go. He still wants us together, and I remind him that he’s the only one still in the relationship.
I can’t be civil, because HE is never civil. I can’t be nice, because he isn’t nice. I give up, and I’m so happy about it. It doesn’t matter that I don’t know exactly what to do about everything all at once because it will take time, but what I do know, is that I won’t go back and I won’t carry guilt, regret, or shame that isn’t mine to carry.