Dyeing to be loved!

I met him at a mutual friend’s party. At first I thought ...”oh my Gosh, this has got to be the most beautiful man I have ever seen. Why on earth is he devoting all his attention to me when he could have anyone in this room?” The fact that he chose me to engage with that night made me feel like a princess. His words describing my beauty shook my soul and lifted my feet. I felt as though I was floating above myself, looking down on the man that I knew would change my life. I had no idea that allowing this kind and gentle man to sweep me off my feet would nearly cost me my life. The first year was amazing; he went out of his way to make me feel like the only woman that he could ever be with again. I was his angel, his savior, his muse! Every night was filled with overlapping compliments and loving embraces. My life was perfect, I had the man of my dreams, a promise of an upcoming wedding and talk of starting a family to make our lives complete. I was on cloud 9. I remember the first mean thing he ever said to me like it was yesterday. I never thought I would hear the words ugly or fat come out of his mouth especially when he was referring to me. I was crushed…I literally felt a piece of my heart break off into my chest. For what I am sure was only a second I couldn’t breathe, but to me it felt like an eternity. No way was the angel that God sent me intentionally stomping on my heart like this, it felt like a nightmare and I couldn’t wake up. After about an hour the reality of it all finally set in and as I stood in the bathroom wiping the tears from my face I heard a tap on the door. “I am in here”, I said as I tried my best not to let him hear the shaking of my voice. No way did I want him to know that I was crying. I took a breath and said, “What do you need?”, “Are you ok?” he replied, “I feel so bad for what I said to you. I have been dealing with so much this past week, I lashed out and I know it’s not your fault, just open the door and let me explain. I promise if you can’t forgive me and don’t want to accept my apology I will personally help you pack your stuff.” I thought about it for a few minutes and then finally opened the door. I have always lived by the belief that we are only human and we all make mistakes. For the next week he spent most of his time trying to make up for what he had said to me and eventually I had almost completely forgotten the whole ordeal. A few months had passed and our seemingly fairytale life had been going according to plan. I graduated from college and had landed a job working at the hospital. My schedule had changed from working days to nights and this seemed to bother him a little. He began to insinuate that I wasn’t actually working those late hours and I was out looking for another man. I tried many times to reassure him that I was happy with him and I never even thought about being with anyone else. As time passed his paranoia grew and no matter what I said or how much I tried to convince him he was absolutely certain that I was a whore. It wasn’t long after that until his words began to be accompanied by his fist. I was standing at the back door getting ready to leave to go to work. He was accusing me of going to meet with another man and I said to him sarcastically, “yeah you’re right, I don’t have time for this I’m going to be late”. He took that as an admission of guilt and came after me. He grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me back into the wall, screaming at me and calling me everything but my name. I turned to walk out the door and he shoved his finger into my eye ripping my upper eyelid. I thought for sure that he had taken my eye out, the pain was intense. My eye was burning and I couldn’t see anything. It wasn’t until I ran into the bathroom to grab a rag to cool the burn that I noticed the blood dripping from the hand I was using to cover my eye. Panic set in and I began to yell, “I’M BLEEDING, I’M BLEEDING! PLEASE COME AND CHECK MY EYE I THINK IT’S GONE, I CAN’T SEE!” He ran into the bathroom instantly apologizing and crying. At the time I thought he was generally sorry due to the fact that he kept begging me to call the police and throw him in jail. He kept saying that he didn’t deserve to be with me and he deserved to be punished for what he did. I now believe that he was just afraid that I would have actually called the police and he was looking for mercy because he didn’t want to go to jail. As he drove me to the hospital to get my eye sutured he told me stories of his childhood and the abuse he endured at the hands of his father and the stories of his neglectful mother. He explained to me his history of mental illness and his battle with severe depression. I heard stories that would make the Gods cry. I felt responsible, like it was my fault and if I just would have kept my mouth shut then I would not have triggered those bad memories from his past and he never would have had his temporary lapse of judgment. Once again I forgave him and we moved on. I went through many more years of similar situations and numerous apologies. I spent a lot of time blaming myself and thinking that some day he would realize that even after all the pain and suffering I endured that I was still there. He would never have to worry about being abandoned by me like he was his mother. I spent so much time trying to convince him that I would never hurt him that I lost sight of the fact that I was slowly fading away. I began only eating solid food twice a week; I lived off water and diet pills trying to be the size he wanted me to be. I had reached an all time low of 90 pounds and even though my doctor was urging me to take my health seriously and stressing to me that I was in stage 2 kidney failure, I only seen the fact that he was happy with my weight and making him happy was my only concern. I went through so many excuses trying to justify my bruises that I nearly ran out. I would have to say my worst one was tripping over the cat and hitting my face on the edge of the cabinet door. No one ever questioned my excuses, I think if they would have it would have forced me to clarify and then someone would have figured out the truth. I never did get the wedding I was promised and it just didn’t seem right to bring children into that situation so I decided that waiting until we could get him the help that he needed would be the best outcome for everyone involved. I decided to focus instead on trying to heal his past hoping that once he could get closure from what had happened to him all those years ago he would finally change and I would no longer have to deal with the pain that emerged from his fist. One week before our 7th anniversary at 6:35 pm, I had finally decided that I couldn’t help him and I could no longer allow myself to be treated this way. I told him that I had done everything I could think of and nothing has helped. That I love him more than life itself but I thought if I left he would have more time to focus on healing himself. As he suddenly grew silent he looked into my eyes and I swear I watched the color disappear. His once crystal blue eyes were now black I could feel his anger deep in my soul and I knew this wasn’t going to end good. I remember his fist connecting with the side of my head and that was it. I woke up in the hospital unable to open my left eye, so much pain in my torso that I couldn’t bare to take a breath. I couldn’t hear anything out of my right ear and my right leg felt as though someone had took multiple blows to it with a sledge hammer. I was in so much pain that I begged the doctor for a mercy killing. I had no idea what had happened to me I was just sure that I didn’t want to live through it. It took me almost a year to heal from my wounds and even today I have constant pain in my leg, it’s hard to walk for long periods of time. I suffer from migraine headaches and bouts of severe vertigo due to the damage to my right eardrum. My life was saved not by my screams but by his fit of rage. The first blow to the head knocked me out cold. He would have killed me if the neighbor had not heard him screaming and cussing at me as he punched and kicked and stomped on my limp body. The first officer at the scene said that as he entered the home he initially thought I was dead. This man, who we will leave unnamed because in my eyes he doesn’t deserve to be recognized in my life nor my essay, was sentenced to 10 years in prison. I have since moved on, though it has taken me a long time to finally begin to trust any man again. I continue to compare any man I meet to him and I am quick to climb into my shell anytime I even get the slightest inclination that this might be too good to be true. I find myself thinking that this person is too nice. I imagine that I have probably disregarded a few good men solely based on that fact. Now when I speak with my family and friends about what I went through they all seem to say the same thing. They all tell me that they suspected I was being beaten but they never said anything because they didn’t want to make me upset. They didn’t want to lose their relationship with me based on an assumption. I would encourage anyone who suspects that a friend or family member is being abused to not be afraid of ruining a relationship or losing a friend. Would you rather say, “I lost my friend because I spoke up about her/his abusive partner, “or “I buried my friend because I said nothing about her/his abusive partner.” Speak up! Your voice could save a life!