He Reeled Me In

Although some of the details have been far removed from my mind, I still remember some things as clear as day.

He was very charming and seemed nice. Even my family liked him when they spent an evening with him. I didn’t tell them what I knew, though.

We met while he was a clerk in a gas station. I thought he was good-looking, he seemed interested in me, I called him when I got home, he expressed wanting to go out with me, I asked if he would be willing to spend an evening with my family, he said yes, we got together one night, and that’s when it started.

After dinner and some card games with my parents, they left us alone to talk. He told me that he had recently been put in jail for beating up his girlfriend. But she was an alcoholic, she was cheating on him, it was her fault…blah, blah, blah.

But, being the naïve young woman I was, I believed what he said. I mean, it couldn’t have been his fault. She must be some horrible girl, right?

I don’t really know what drew me into his web… I wonder now if I felt sorry for him, or if I just wanted someone to love me. Either way, not great to start a relationship with someone with those circumstances.

From that moment on, we spent a lot of time together. We talked on the phone, saw each other in person, etc. And things between us progressed very quickly. Before we knew it, we were planning on getting married and starting a life together. I’m talking within a month’s time.

And then, one night in March, the violence against me began.

Let’s just say that I started doing things I didn’t normally do when I met him. And I had been drinking, and he tried to take me home like that. After he pushed me down in his apartment, he tried to drive me home…and I tried to jump out of a moving car. So, he took me back to his place, and I sobered up. Little did I know, he had met some girl at the gas station, and he had a date for that night. I guess he stood her up, huh? Of course, I didn’t know about this until later, but that was the way things started.

My parents, I don’t know how they stood watching all of this happen, knew something bad was going on. They forbade me from seeing him, set a curfew on me, etc. I think NOW that it was them trying to protect me, but then, I thought they were trying to ruin and run my life. So, I saw him anyway and forced the issue. My dad told me one morning before work that if I saw him again, I would find my stuff on the porch. So, at lunch that day, I went out and got myself an apartment for ME. No one else…just me.

I didn’t really care that my grandparents were there that weekend, or that it was my mom’s birthday. I didn’t think about what this would do to my sister and brother, or anyone else, for that matter. I just needed OUT. Of all of it.

Well, I hurt my parents and made them angry, and I made Don very angry, too. He couldn’t figure out why I just wouldn’t move in with him! Well, I know that I was trying to make some decisions for my life that had nothing to do with him or my parents or anyone else. I was 18, soon to be 19, had my own car, my own job, my own life. But no one saw me as an individual. I was always someone’s daughter or sister or girlfriend. I was not myself. This was my attempt at freedom.

Freedom comes at a high price sometimes. And I wasn’t really free, though. I was living as a prisoner, and I didn’t even have a clue.

Where it all Begins...

To begin my story, I have to go back a little bit in time.

I never had much luck with guys. From the time I started liking boys, they NEVER liked me. Ever. Until I was 14. There was a boy at church, and he also went to my school. He was a year older than me, but I just thought he was the best guy. I had a major crush on him in 8th grade, but instead of liking me, he liked one of my very best friends. I didn’t blame her for the situation, but it was very upsetting to me.

I accepted Jesus Christ into my heart that year, and I was going to believe that God had this “perfect” guy for me. I was going to wait for it…but, this guy WAS the guy I was waiting for. I just knew it.

Now, looking back, how can you know at 13 years old who is “THE” guy for you? You really just can’t. Oh, and just so you know, this is not the guy that did heinous things to me, trying to kill me and ruin my life. This is just the first bad heartbreak of my life. I really think it led to me making the choices I did later.

Okay, back to the story.

We went to church camp that summer, and I thought he might like me just a little bit. So, I prayed and prayed that he did. I hoped my friend would not be too hurt when he broke up with her, but, as we all know, young men are fickle creatures. So, in August, he broke up with my friend and started hanging out with me, picking me up from school (he went to the high school, and I was still in jr. high), and he asked me to “go with” him. I couldn’t believe it! All my dreams were coming true.

Only they lasted for a short period of four months. Then, he broke up with me, and I was old news. He moved onto another girl in our small youth group, even younger than my other friend and me by two years. And they stayed together for two years, fawning and pawing all over each other at church. That was very hard to watch each week. I would go home in tears. How could this happen when he is “the one?”

So, I started high school, still caught up in the feelings I had for him, and I just kept hoping that something would happen. I mean, it had to, right?

Well, he moved off to college, and I was finally going to be free from the everyday heartache of seeing him. I know that sounds crazy to be so obsessed with someone at that age, but hey, I thought God told me that he was the guy! I was so wrong.

In April of my Junior year, when I was still 16, my parents introduced me to the son of some friends’ of theirs. He was 19 and wanted to date me, and I hated him. However, as he started pursuing me, romancing me, and as I started spending time with his family, I started falling hard for him. That summer, with my parents’ blessing, we became engaged. And right after my senior year started, he started becoming distant and avoiding calling me (before cell phones), and my parents learned that he was caught with marijuana by his step-dad. My parents made me break it off with him immediately; I couldn’t see him, talk to him, look at him, walk by him, nothing.

I was very angry for a long time about all of this. I sneaked around and saw him anyway. I just didn’t care.

I am a very forgiving person, though, and I learned to forgive as time passed by. I still wasn’t too happy with guys in general, though.

I called my first boyfriend at college and asked him to go to my senior prom with me, and he said yes. I was very excited and nervous. We had quite the night, and that was the night I got over him.

I graduated from high school, started working full-time, going out to one particular bar (that was when you only had to be 18 to get in), and I was having a good time with my life. I still didn’t have a boyfriend, but it was okay.

I started talking to my former fiance’, and he said he would be willing to talk to my parents about us dating again. I didn’t actually HAVE to make him do that, but I wanted them to see if they thought he had changed. I knew I couldn’t trust myself to figure that out.

At the first of the year, 1984, things changed. I met HIM. The man who tried to destroy my life.

Introduction

You might be reading this and wondering why I think I am qualified to write entries in a blog about domestic violence. Sure, my life looks pretty good now at 44 years old, but you can't look at someone and know exactly what she's gone through in life. So, let me introduce myself. I am a Survivor.

When I was 18, young and impressionable, when I had a bright future ahead of me, I met someone who swept me of my feet. He was charming and good-looking, tough and serious. Looking back at those time now, I now believe there were times that I looked into the eyes of the devil.

Even though we've been divorced for over 20 years, he still brags on some social networking sites that he "endured a pointless marriage." Well, I don't think he's the one who "endured" anything. No, that was me, and I am blessed like crazy to have gotten out of there with my life, health, site and hearing.

Those of you reading this who have been abused by a boyfriend or husband know what I'm talking about. The slaps and punches to the face, the ears, the eyes, the pushing to the floor or into walls. So, that's why I say I am blessed to be here today. The most wonderful thing of all is that I got a second chance at making a relationship work. I have a wonderful husband I've been married to for almost 19 years and 5 wonderful kids.

Our life is not easy, nor has it ever been. However, I believe that all of us who have been hurt can still love and have great lives.

Through this blog, I'm going to go through my story of 7 years, and actually more time than that, of being involved with this man and how I was finally able to break free from his manipulation and destructive ways.

I praise God for loving me enough to get me out of there alive and give me my second chance.