As a young mom, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel like I was missing out on certain aspects of my life when I can’t go to certain events because of the kids. Any mom that says motherhood is ALWAYS rewarding, or that it’s a walk in the park has either A) not been a parent long enough or B) is afraid to be honest.
Sis, it’s ok. You’re safe here. Sometimes motherhood sucks. Calm down, I said sometimes.
It’s those days when your kid is being a complete butthole, or “you just can’t get it right,” that further fuels your feelings of failure as a mom. These moments make you question if you were really made for parenthood. We’ve all passed a mom having one of those days. She’s usually in the grocery store. Her kid is belting at their top of their lungs. We pass her with an encouraging smile while secretly thanking God that it’s not our own kid. The mom is usually visibly tired and overwhelmed, and although this lady is a complete stranger, you feel like you’ve known her your whole life. Why? Because, she’s you, we’ve all experienced one of these days.
When I see my peers partying or traveling carefree, I can’t help but to wonder if I started my journey of motherhood too soon, or wonder if I wasted my youth. I usually snap back to reality and remember that even when I had the leisure to do the things my peers do now, I never did.
Why? Because it wasn’t me–it’s not me. God knew I was meant for wifehood and motherhood before I did.
So, I love being a mom. It’s a title–job, that I take seriously, and conduct with so much pride! It helps that my kids are super cute, and know how to win over mommy’s heart when they lock eyes with mine too! I’m a sucker for those big brown eyes, and they know that.
Even still, I’ve found myself flustered with balancing mommy time and mommy’s free time. I’ve gotten so wrapped up in motherhood that I forget that a lot of my friends aren’t moms yet. Although they love my kids, they’re not always down to censor their language, change location, babysit, or change plans for me and the kids. They don’t say it outright, but I can tell. So, what do I do? Don’t say, “find new friends.” That’s not logical.
What I’ve chosen to do is, sit some events out. It sucks sometimes, especially when it’s career related, or when mommy just needs a break, but I understand that motherhood comes before everything.
So, to any mama that’s feeling what I’m feeling, I don’t have the answers yet. Although, you love being a mommy, the feeling of feeling like you’re missing out won’t lessen, and it’s not fair to bypass those feelings. They’re real.
The truth is, you will feel like you’re missing out on things, and guess what, sometime you literally will miss things. It’s ok. You just have to know that no other job compares to motherhood! It’s the hug at your knees that your toddler gives you after a day you thought would never end. It’s the smile your baby does when she’s sleeping on your chest at 5:00am, because she’s refusing to sleep through the night. It’s on those hard days when you feel like you’re failing the kids that you overhear your kid telling someone that you’re a superhero.
It’s those moments that are priceless! It’s in those moments you realize you’re only “missing” out on superficial things. Your true meaning in life calls you mom.
So in conclusion, if the kids can’t come, neither can this mama.
I get it, chubby cheeks, and baby giggles make the manliest of men stop in their tracks to smile in admiration at a cute baby. I’m positive that babies have their own powers. I read somewhere that babies are literally scientifically created “cute,” so that mothers naturally want to care for them. Like, there’s science behind baby cuteness.
Before my own kiddos, I never cared too much for other people’s children. I’d give a cute smile, and “aww,” but nothing else. So, to my kidless friends, maybe you don’t understand why what I’m about to talk to is considered butthole behavior, but to my friends that are parents, shame on you! *Shakes finger in disapproval
Liam has been an only child for 4 years. He’s super cute with a lot of personality which makes him hard not to notice and even harder to forget. He’s a natural star and I’m not just saying that because he’s my son, it’s true! Now that Zora’s here, Liam has noticed that most of the attention has shifted to his baby sister.
At first he was conflicted. He’d stand by while people totally ignored him and doted over his sister, but more recently, he’s started to address the situation. When someone doesn’t address him after a couple of minutes, Liam will make his presence known with a facetious, “Hi!” He says in a way like, “I know you see me standing here, speak fool!” The first time he did it, I was both tickled and proud. I was proud that he didn’t fall trap to the tired sad song, “no one ever noticed me, they always payed more attention to my sister/brother.” I was proud of Liam for standing up for him! Way to go Liam!
As a mom, it really bothers me that people see nothing wrong with blatantly ignoring one child for another! If you have kids, you know that when a stranger gets to chatting about the baby, these chats last a good 5 minutes at the least! Imagine standing with a group of people and everyone gets acknowledge, but you! How would that make you feel? Imagine what it feels like when you’re a little kid.
To you, you’re only uncontrollably drawn to the baby and all their cuteness. You’re not thinking too much about it. To the child/children that feel left out, they’re internalizing why they’re not good enough to be spoken to. “What’s wrong with me?” That takes a tole on their self esteem. Many older children act out, because they feel left out. You ignoring the eldest for the youngest could literally cost that parent a tantrum, because the youngest child can’t verbalize that they feel left out. I don’t know about you, but I try to avoid tantrums at all cost!
So, when I find myself in one of these situations, I make sure to mention Liam several times in conversation to “imply” to the other person, “hey, there’s another child here.” It’s seemed to work so far.
To all my perpetrators of this egregious child offense, don’t feel bad! I’m sure you didn’t mean any harm. Like I said before, babies are bundles of adorableness! In the future, think before you speak. In fact, count before you speak. Count every child and speak to each of them to ensure that no kid feels left out!
One of my favorite philosophers, Birdman once said, “Put some respek on my name.” Put some respek on every child’s existence!
Ages ago, when dinosaurs still roamed the earth, my younger brother and I shared a room. The room wasn’t large, but it wasn’t small. It was just big enough to provide separate spaces for privacy, but small enough for us to carry conversations when we wanted to talk.
My brother and I didn’t share a room because we wanted to. Kids to a single mom, we had no other choice. Most of the time we complained about never escaping each other’s company, but now that I’m a mom, my perception of those “horrid” times have changed.
When my husband and I first found out that we were pregnant with Liam, we rushed to decorate his nursery! We decorated an elaborate nursery for our new baby boy, and the child never slept in the room. In fact, I’m not sure if he remembers having it. We tried a different route with Zora, we opted for a shared nursery! Baby girl slept in her crib adjacent from our bed which made late night feedings and diaper changes more convenient. Liam felt left out with what he felt was a super fun “Zora gets to stay up later than me” sleepover, so mama thought of a master plan! I asked Liam did he want his sissy to sleep in his room and to my surprise, he answered, “yes!”
A couple of months later, we evicted Zora from our room and moved her into her brother’s room. Both kids were ecstatic! I worried about how their sleep schedules would change due to their new sleeping arrangements, but things seemed to work out naturally! The kids adapted peacefully to their new arrangement!
It’s was evident during moments that I’d pass their room and overhear them giggling, or check on them at night and find toys in Zora’s crib that Liam snuck to her to keep her from crying; that I made the right choice! Some mornings I got to sleep in later, because both kids managed to keep themselves occupied in their room until mommy awoke. It’s a beautiful sight!
Have you considered moving your kids into a room together? Do it! Memories of my younger brother getting in the bed with me when a thunder storm was too much for him to bear, or nights when we’d talk ourselves to sleep, still make me smile. Sure, as I grew older, I yearned for my own space, but in the end, sharing a room with my sibling made me feel safe and warm. If our childhood room walls could talk, they’d share the many memories we made within those four walls.
I think siblings should share a room for at least a year. It teaches them teamwork, sharing, compassion and sacrifice.
Mama made us share a room, but we chose to make the best of it!
Move your kiddies in a room together! Make the spare room your mommy getaway!
I grew up in blunt household. For the talk about the birds and the bees, I was shown videos of two teenage girls balancing high school, waitressing gigs, and pregnancy! Yes, I also watched them give agonizing birth! After the videos, I was administered a test about the cost of children, and to solidify all this sex training, I was given a certificate￼ from planned parenthood that stated 12 year old me was educated and I mean EDUCATED about the risks of sex! This has absolutely NOTHING to do with Santa, I just wanted you to picture the talks I shared with my parents as a child.
The talk about Santa was just as blunt, but kind of sweet, because, I don’t know! It’s Santa, no one wants to ruin Santa for a kid. My mom sat me down, well we were driving in her yellow mustang, I’ll never forget this. We were driving and I asked her was Santa real. She told me that she believed he was, but like anyone else, he died, but his spirit lived on. For some reason the death thing haunted every word she said after that. Picturing Santa dead didn’t feel right.
They’re many speculations￼ and theories about St. Nick; one of them is that he was indeed a real man and just like my mother said, his physical￼ being died and his spiritual being lived on. So, maybe my mom was on to something!
Although Christmas comes at the same time every year, still, Americans scramble up cash and acquire crazy debt to make Christmas magical for their loved ones. This happens every year. Because of this, many organizations have you drives to ensure that no kid is left behind, and that every child feels loved.
Santa is suppose to be this magical being that leaves your heart’s desires under the tree, right? From a moms perspective, this random man, helps lessen the debt in my pocket by gifting my kids things I may not be able to afford or things I was just outright trying to avoid purchasing!
What if Santa wasn’t just 1 man, but many men? Whether you believe Santa is real or not, there’s no way, one man can travel the world in one night! He needs help–elves. What if I told you that anytime you buy a gift for someone, you were acting like Santa’s elf? What if Santa isn’t a person, but a movement? A movement that encourages society to think about someone other than themselves? Think about it, there’s countless organizations that host toys for tots and we, the people help these organizations by donating the gifts to their organizations.
Santa is real, we are all Santa!
So, when someone asks you, do you believe in Santa, say yes! Believing in Santa is believing that we as a culture are genuinely compassionate and giving. He (we) does come every year and makes sure kids all over the world gets gifts! Happy Holidays guys and thank you to all of the Santas and elves out there!
Have you ever felt like somebody got over on you? Like, you gave this person all you had, yet they stabbed in the back and deserted you–turned on you. We’ve all had that feeling. Whether it was an old ex, a family member or friend, we’ve all been let down by someone we cared about. After the perpetrator’s egregious acts, we usually sit back and think about all the things we did for them. “I did this.” “I did that.” In the end, we end up feeling lost, angry even. We feel used!
What comes next depends on your spirituality, if you’re still in you’re Simon stage, you just might get even–curse the other party, the (bleep) out. If you’re in your Peter stage, you’ll take the high road. No matter the phase you take, you’re hurting, because, “they used you!” But what if it wasn’t “them” who used you, but “He?”
God ￼knows everything before it happens. He places us where we need to be. Our flesh has taught us to think that He places us places we need to be for our own agendas, but sometimes He puts us in places others need us to be. Because God moves through people, He uses us to do His work–if you allow Him to anyway.
No long post today just a short and simple message. Instead of being hurt by what you think someone took from you, thank God for Him using YOU to SHARE what He GAVE you. Let God use you! Amen Jesus! ￼
Philippians 2:13 ESV
For it is God who works in you, both to will and to work for his good pleasure.
Like most Americans, I’ve been dealing with depression for awhile. It’s a forever wave of sad and negative thoughts sometimes triggered by stress or trauma. One year, my depression got so bad, I called the suicide helpline. It wasn’t that I wanted to commit suicide, I just needed direction. I knew that I refused to leave my family behind without trying, and I knew that I refused to give into to devil’s lies.
I sat sad in my dark room, cried and thought to myself about what things I could do in that moment to make me feel better—at least feel a little better. At the time, I was still newly postpartum with Liam. I didn’t feel beautiful, and was struggling with my new identity as a mom. I’ve always been a girly girly so I thought about ways I could improve my outer being, and in turn improve my inner. I started my weight lifting journey, started to make time for myself every 2 weeks to get my nails done and I made sure to wear clothes that made me feel sexy!
When I started doing these things, I started to feel good about me! I felt good and I looked good. I was making progress. It’s seems silly that me investing in cosmetic things helped my depression, but it was deeper than that! When I really examined my life, I was already doing to the hard stuff—completing the steps to achieve my larger goals. I was back in college, I was mastering motherhood and my marriage was on the ups. I realized that although my depressive thoughts directed me elsewhere, the real source of this wave of sadness was from not being happy with me. So, what better way to fix me than to invest in me, right?
When I found the source of my sadness, I was able to address it. My friends and family started to notice the change in my mood, and it felt good to be on top of Mt. Depression!
Depression sneaks in at our most vulnerable times, hoping to masks its minor issues in larger issues. Depression will make you feel like you’re not good enough, causing you to want to quit when in reality, an example source of your depression could derive from you being overwhelmed in school. Depression attaches itself to our subconscious and acts through our conscious. There’s so cure for depression, because depression was made by the enemy to plant doubt in a mind that already knows the truth. The truth is, depression can only take hold of you if you give it your hand. Don’t!
Cry, scream, pray and then sit alone in your thoughts! Write down how you’re feeling. Your feelings will most likely be lies like:
I’m not good enough.
No one likes me.
I’ll never get anywhere in life.
Beside those “feelings,” write down the truth depression doesn’t want you to know.
I am enough!
Jesus likes me, I like me!
It may be hard, but I’ll get there one day!
After that, think about what triggered your bad thoughts. Was it a falling out with a friend? Was it your job? What happened to send you in this downward spiral?
When you figure this out, compose a plan to change your situation. If it’s a spit with a friend, talk to them. If it’s your job, maybe it’s time to talk to your boss or find another place to work.
If you’re reading this, and think this sounds like too much to do, ask yourself if you’re ready to divorce depressive thoughts? Maybe you’re not ready to get better, and that’s ok. We have to remember that although no one asks for depression, it’s still our responsibility to climb out of the dark hole.
Try these steps, they helped me tremendously! Depression never leaves, it’s a silent attacker that attaches itself to your life when you’re most vulnerable. Be prepared. I use these steps each time I find myself in a bad place. It’s ok to take time to re-evaluate your situation. Depression will make you think you can’t beat it, but you can!
When depression makes its return and attack on my life, I 1.)find the cause of the relapse, 2.) I strategize on how to rectify the problem, and 3.) I rectify the problem!
Don’t let depression become bigger than you. I love you! Be happy lappy, not depressy lessy!
Arguments with loved ones usually end up with both parties saying unflattering and hurtful things. We’ve been taught to excuse our loved one’s hurtful words, because they were only saying those things out of anger. Although, their maybe some truth to this theory, you can’t help, but to wonder if these “mean and hurtful words” were deep rooted truths our loved ones only had the opportunity to share when they had the “free card” to do so. So, we consciously ignore the mean words but subconsciously we dwell on them, because no matter how hard we try to deny our loved ones words, we have an inkling that some of what they said is true.
Therapy and popular social media feel good memes would say to suppress those negative thoughts about yourself, because you are light and perfect in every way. I’m calling this mindset bull crap. You are not perfect in every way. No one is. This way of thinking encourages us to live counterproductive lives in denial. In order to live truth you have to face truth—you have to hear the truth. I’m not saying everything mean said to you is right or reflects your character, but I am saying, if you’ve heard the same things multiple times, maybe there’s some validity to those words.
Look in the mirror. Accept the good parts and bad parts of you. Ask yourself is there any truth to what you’ve heard about you. Fix the broken parts of you. Love you through it all.
A recent spit made me address a part of me that I was forcing myself to ignore. Confession: I’m very critical of others. Because I’m critical of myself, I tend to judge others as harsh as I judge myself. This isn’t right and I wanted to believe that this ugly truth wasn’t true about me, but it is.
The question we should ask ourselves after learning and accepting our ugly reflections is, why? What’s the root of our mean streak?
Don’t bypass “mean talk.” Sometimes it feels mean because it’s truthful.
I’m all about God’s timing because if you haven’t figured it out by now, His divine timing is always the RIGHT timing!
Before this semester started, I had to make a quick change to my class schedule. Turns out, I registered for a class that started at 6pm and ended at 8pm. Those times weren’t Kosher for either my husband or my children so like a video vixen, I dropped that class like it was hot.
I was worried about what classes had availability so late in the register game. I ended up signing up for this class called, “writing for Comm.” My advisor had no clue what this class would entail but what he did know is that, the professor teaching this course was a BIG DEAL!
Rachel Balducci was my professor’s name and although I had never heard of her, something about the way my advisor spoke her name made me feel like she was worth a google search. So I googled her, and low and behold she was a big deal. Established journalist turned mommy blogger, author, tv host and now full time professor; what the heck hasn’t this lady done?
In true millennial fashion, I followed her Instagram and read every book review on Amazon. “Balducci does it again” and “Another hit” were just a few words from her loyal following. All I knew was, I was grateful to God that I had just dropped my stupid science lab ￼in exchange for writing for Comm!
Her class is a journalism class where we write different articles. We focus on format, article types and journalistic styles. So far, we’ve covered events, created a podcast and conducted interviews around campus. Honestly , my writing has improved so much and I’m always happy to pick Professor Balducci’s brain for blogger and journalist tips.
You can’t tell me God doesn’t look out! How ironically cool that I just happen to take a class with a woman that does what I want to do! How friggin cool? Talk about God ordering my steps huh!
Because we live in a day in age where everyone wants to be an influencer or blogger, I decided to ask Professor Balducci questions I figured other mommy bloggers or influencers wanted to know. The interview is short and quaint because there’s no special formula on how to get you a book deal, money or fame. Professor Balducci covers how her faith, being in the right place at the right time and determination played a huge role in her success! Check out the interview below! *** Because I’m a college mom, Zora and Liam are in the interview as well because, why not?🤣
October is the mecca for a plethora of awarenesses and causes, but it’s most commonly known for breast cancer awareness. We all know someone directly or indirectly affected by breast cancer. There are many forms of breast cancer and I think the different types get lost in the awareness of the month. This is unfortunate, we need clarity and understanding of all forms of breast cancer, as it further educates us and helps prevention.
I always knew breast cancer sucked but I never took the time to truly educate myself. Every year, I pass doctor’s offices encouraging women to get mammograms and breast exams but still, I figured, I was too young to entertain the thought of breast cancer. Until recently, I thought a mammogram and breast exam were the same thing.
It was this year, that I decided to change my mind. While scrolling down my Instagram timeline, I saw a picture of my friend. She had one breast. Positive that my eyes were deceiving me, I examined the picture further. My eyes weren’t deceiving me. My friend, Jaymonroe has angiosarcoma breast cancer. The idea of someone so young, so vibrant and pretty healthy; having cancer scared the hell out of me.￼
To make things worst, I encountered another beautiful woman, Ella, who is also fighting breast cancer( Metastatic breast cancer ) She shares a similar story. When I learned that these women suffering this horrible disease we’re all around healthy until now, it scared me. Tv and media always make it seem like the people mostly getting breast cancer are those who live unhealthy lifestyles and this just isn’t true.
I continued life after this news paranoid. “How did this happen,” I thought. I had so many questions.
I began to obsess over my own breast–a lot. So, I schedule an appointment with my doctor and she told me…
I have Fibrocystic breast disease. “What is that,” I asked? It’s a condition that causes lumpy texture in the breast. It’s non-cancerous and caused by hormone changes–like when you’re on your period. Breast fibroids can cause tenderness in the breast which is what alarmed me. It’s extremely common,especially in black women.
Turns out, my caffeine intake could affect and even agitate the fibroids so I’ve decided to quit coffee cold-turkey. I also learned in detail how to conduct breast exams on myself. I was advised to monitor the lumpiness in my breast to make sure the lumps didn’t harden, cause discoloration, change appearance or hurt.
Leaving my doctor’s office with this new news left me feeling blessed. I can’t fathom what’s it’s like receiving the heartbreaking news that, “you have breast cancer.” All I could do is praise Jesus that I and my breast are totally fine.
A lot of women don’t take their breast and their wellbeing seriously. I get it. Breast are literal lumps of fat hanging from our bodies. Other than finding the right bras to lift them, we usually don’t think about them too much. I want to change that mindset. I want to dead the idea that breast cancer considers age, race, gender, or lifestyle. Breast cancer doesn’t discriminate and I want you, us to be properly educated.
“I want people to know the truth. Breast cancer is real,” Jaymonroe wrote on my insta stories.
My friend Jay, shared a couple pictures, journaling her days leading up to her diagnosis. Pictures of what looked like a bug bite filled my eyes from my phone screen. She didn’t think that bump was cancer and as the other person looking at what she saw, I could see why. It literally looked like a bruised mosquito bite on her breast.
Jay described what she thought to be a bruise on her breast as painful; so painful, she wanted her entire breast removed. Little did she know, that was already her fate.
Sharing her story and so candidly on her social media pages is beyond inspiring. Even with all she’s battling, she still chooses to help, uplift and educate others.
Ms. Ella is quite vocal about her fight on social media too. Both women speak with such love and concern for their community–they are our community’s WonderWomen.
“You never get use to the fight,” Ella said. “People think it’s a daily struggle to find motivation but, I struggle hourly.”
Ella described daily task like bathing or leaving the house as torturous. She explained that medicines and chemo are harder on the body than movies and television display.
“The water burns my skin,” Ella said. “Sometimes I don’t want to get out of bed,” she added.
These are two different women with two different stories, conveying the same passionate message; “Get your breast examined!”
I don’t have a scripture or any magical quote that explains why cancer exist or why it attacks the ones we love; but I have a voice– a voice I’d like to use to say, monitor your breast! Many women who fail to conduct monthly breast exams suffer with cancer unknowingly, making survival questionable.
Get your breast checked! Conduct your own breast exams. ￼
Cancer is only as scary as we allow it to be. I have faith that we will find a cure, maybe even a vaccine, but for now, book an appointment with your doctor and save the ta tas!
To Ms. Ella and Jay, we lift you guys up in prayer and support! You 👏🏿will 👏🏿beat 👏🏿cancer👏🏿 and when you do, we’ll be there cheering you on!
Every October I flood my social media timeline with domestic violence awareness statistics. Every so often I share my own experience. Last year I opted not to be so vocal.
Things happen in our lives and we think they don’t consider how deeply they change us. We soon realize the effects of our past traumas when they trickle over into our new relationships. I really thought I had forgiven my abuser. I really thought I did.
It was the week that the Surviving R. Kelly documentary invaded our homes, TVs and conversations. It was the night that Dominique was reunited with her mom; it was that night that triggered feelings of anger, hate and shame. That night, I searched my abuser on Instagram and Facebook and to my disappointment he was alive, well and thriving. I was angry!
“Why is he living a good life,” I asked God. Why am I still hurting?
I felt guilty for wishing bad on my abuser that hurt me for so many years. I know many people feel that I’m entitled to this hatred and anger but I disagree. I’ve been angry at this man for years and what has that done? I’ll tell you. It caused rifts in my marriage, it caused anxiety, it caused me to walk around carrying a load of crap that isn’t mine to carry. So I forgave him. I forgave the man who raped me. I forgave the man who alienated me from my friends and family. I forgave the man who choked me, pushed me out of a moving car, abandoned me, belittled me and manipulated me. I. Forgave. Him.
I never went into detail about how I got into this bad relationship because in order to do so, this meant revealing a lot about my family dynamic. Since the cats out the bag and you guys already know about me growing up with a parent that suffers from BPD, I’ll share my story. I’ll share it today. I’ll share it tomorrow and I’ll continue to share it until no girl is ever in my old shoes.
I was 18. My home life was chaotic. My parent with BPD, made life hell and I often tried to leave. My parent would physically fight me to prevent me from leaving. I didn’t know then but I know now that people that suffer from BPD have a fear of abandonment. Because of this, they’ll do almost anything to avoid being alone.
Women between the ages of 18-24 are most commonly abused by an intimate partner.
One day my parent dropped me off to the college I was attending at the the time. That morning was a rough one. My parent was agitated and on this day, they threaten to leave me at school and never return. Little did my parent know, I prayed that they stayed true to their harsh words. My prayer was answered, my parent never came.
At this time, I was working my first job and a girl at my job offered for me to live with her. I took her up on her offer. I moved in.
I was lost. Although I was physically free from my parent, I wasn’t emotionally free. They continued to manipulate me and involve outside family members in their drama. Explaining the crazy life I lived to others felt like explaining the plot of a Lifetime movie and I often felt like no one believed me. I didn’t know then but I know now, I was leaving one abusive relationship to enter another.
I was introduced to my abuser from Facebook when he randomly messaged me one day. I’m still unsure how we became Facebook friends; we grew up on opposite sides of town, he was 5 years older than me, and we had no mutual friends. He messaged me almost everyday, despite me never responding. “Good morning,” he’d message. “How are you,” he’d follow shortly after. He was what we millennials call a bugaboo.
I punished myself for what I’m about to confess for years because I really thought this was the reason things happened the way they did. I thought I was being punished by God. I’ve recently found peace and forgave myself. I now know that what I’m about to confess still makes nothing this man did to me OK!
He was ugly. He was a fat guy and behind his back I joked that he looked like Chris from Family guy. He always reeked of cigarettes and he wasn’t very bright. He was thirsty for my attention, but most importantly, he had a car! I only entertained him because he had a car and I didn’t. I was newly emancipated, working and in college, AND this guy was obsessed with me and he had a car!
Even though I felt everything above, I love to love. I’m hopeless romantic and I honestly enjoyed him fawning over me so I agreed to hang out. I watched a lot of romcoms and I had the idea to cook dinner together and watch movies for our first date. He obliged. The first sign that I ignored is that, on this date, he walked me to his room and told me to “chill there.” He cooked by himself. I stayed in the room. The night passed and when we finished eating he mentioned that his dad was going to work; we’d be there alone (second warning.) I felt uncomfortable but I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t familiar with the area he lived in and I didn’t want him to know that I was weirded out. His dad left and he said we’d follow and leave too. We followed behind his dad but after his dad pulled off, my abuser pulled me back inside his house. He forced his tongue down my throat and I didn’t stop him. I didn’t know what to do. He took me back to his room and he raped me. I was virgin. He took my body and my virginity. I was confused. He was somewhat gentle but I definitely said no. I said it twice. I never said yes. I never agreed to this. Prior to our “date,” he was aware that I wanted to wait until I was married to have sex. He’d jokingly say, “I’m going to put a ring on your finger.” (He knew what he did was wrong.) He finished and we left his house promptly. On the ride home, I was silent. He asked, “how do you feel” and “are you mad at me?”
I whispered, “what do you think?” He dropped me off home.
Almost half of female (46.7%) and male (44.9%) victims of rape in the United States were raped by an acquaintance. Of these, 45.4% of female rape victims and 29% of male rape victims were raped by an intimate partner.
I knew what happened wasn’t right. I called a friend and told her what had transpired. She assured me that it was ok and that some men were “more eager than others.” This didn’t sit right with me but I was what my friends called “a Jesus freak,” so I accepted my friend’s advice.
I continued to see him. We hung out and every time we hung out, God would warn me to stay clear of this man. Like many of us, I would ignore God’s signs. My abuser threw tantrums. When I would threaten to leave he’d threaten to kill himself. I learned later that he did this often. He would threaten to hurt people close to me and he was really territorial of me. It felt like I woke up one day and realized that I had stopped going to class, I no longer had a job and I had “ghosted my friends.”
In the heat of an argument, my abuser choked me. He choked me for so long, I began to feel lightheaded. He apologized and I remember calling him a “domestic violence abuser.” He laughed and said, “choking didn’t count.”
I thought he was right. No one ever complained about “chocking,” plus he apologized. My situation didn’t mirror the horror abuse stories I had read. I didn’t think my situation counted. “It was just choking.”
Chocking turned into pushing. Pushing turned into him throwing things at me. In the beginning he was good at hiding his violent behavior but eventually other people started to notice it too.
The system that failed me:
I didn’t have family support and my city didn’t provide much support for women in situations like mine. When the beatings were too much to take, I’d call the police. The officers would advise me to find another place to stay.
“Where,” I’d ask.
They would reach into their pockets, hand me a card with services to “help me” and always, the numbers either never worked or no longer offered services for women in my predicament. Tears in my eyes and no fight left from within, I’d go right back to my abuser’s arms because I had nowhere else to go.
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This relationship went on for about 2 years–on and off. I’d leave and come back. It was the week of my 21st birthday. I was asked to go out with some “friends.” My abuser got angry.
“You’re not going out,” he screamed.
I ignored him. He dragged me outside and attacked me. He banged my head against the wall outside. The police were called and when he found out, he carried me into the bathroom. He threaten to kill himself right in front of me. Sirens sounded and he fled. The police met me. With blood on my face and lump on my head, the state pressed charges.
75% of domestic violence related homicides occur upon separation and there is a 75% increase of violence upon separation for at least two years.
Even though my abuser had done all these things to me, I still loved him. In all his chaos he stayed consistent. He was the only one there for me. I would’ve stayed with him but God removed me. God literally removed me from that toxicity.
When I found out that I couldn’t have contact with him I was depressed. I missed him. He wasn’t always bad… because he fled the scene before the police could arrest him, I saw him one last time. It was at a hospital. We were both there visiting a “friend.” He thought I had moved on so, there in the waiting room, he assaulted me. After this incident, the police found him at work and arrested him.
God removed him.
Moving forward by myself was hard. I felt like a baby learning to walk for the first time. Everything was new. I was free. Like a newly emancipated slave with only the knowledge of farming, I felt stagnant. I was free, but I had nothing to do with this newfound freedom. But God placed people in my life: to help me get on my feet, to love me, to encourage me and to build me back up. I had hardcore prayer warriors. I had just met my now husband, who unbeknownst to me at that time would become my forever Superman, best friend and companion.
In the mist of my transformation as a new woman, healed and healthy, I found myself. I found my independence. I found my worth. I found my husband. I found my peace. I found my voice.
If you know someone is a domestic violence situation pray for them and get them help. If you’re currently in a domestic violence relationship, know that you’re so beautiful. You’re worthy. This is not your fault. You are strong! Leaving your abuser is dangerous; I know you’re scared, but you have to leave him! Leave!
Most Heavenly Father,
Release this woman from bondage! Free her from her satan on Earth. Embrace her with your love and give her the strength to walk away. Cover her and those closest to her in the blood of Jesus and grant her a safe departure! Fill her new life with joy and remind her of her perfect worth. Help her start anew, Jesus. Help her find peace! I love you God.
Click here if you or anyone you know is in a domestic violence relationship ⬇️