Before the first time.

On February 26, 2017 my once husband tossed me around our kitchen like a rag doll and beat me horrifically for almost an hour while our boys slept upstairs. The first time.⁣

Almost 2 weeks to the day he nearly killed me in front of them as he bashed my face in with his and split my forehead open. The last time. ⁣

I call it the first and the last time because physically it was just that. ⁣

But make no mistake.⁣

The names.⁣
The insults. ⁣
The degrading. ⁣
The threats ⁣
The isolation.⁣
The accusations.⁣
The broken walls + items. ⁣
The forced sexual contact.⁣
The financial chaos. ⁣
The stealing. ⁣
The lies. ⁣
The gun. ⁣

All abuse. ⁣
All of it. ⁣

As we get closer to the “fuck that guy- aversary” I feel drawn to talk + write more or our story. It’s part of my therapy and healing and I pray and hope that someone somewhere needs to see what I have to say.⁣

I wrote about the first time last here:⁣

I have the last time coming likely to a podcast… talking is easier for me and to recount those times it’s a really hard day to write down and have to edit and proofread it over and over. ⁣

Leave. ⁣
Go. ⁣
Before the first time. ⁣
Don’t let it get physical.⁣
You know when your worth; your life; your happiness is being violated. That’s abuse. ⁣
You are worth more. You deserve more ++ only you can walk out that door. ⁣

That last time could have been the last time I ⁣saw my babies, took my final breaths and became another statistic to domestic violence. 🖤✨


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