“Domestic Violence”, go ahead, have the same thought that most people have. A man hitting/beating a woman, her too afraid to leave him, scared that he will kill her if he does. Well, if that is the thought that comes to your mind when you hear those two words “Domestic Violence”. Your thought process needs to be redirected to the “TRUTH”. So, let me tell you the “TRUTH” or as I like to call the “T” about Domestic Violence. It doesn’t always involve a man hitting a woman nor does it always involve a woman being too afraid to leave her abuser. Domestic Violence played a different position in my life. Here is my “T”….my story.
My name is Micole, a 34yr old now divorced, single mother of 3 daughters ages 16, 9 & 6. I was with their father Larry for just about 16yrs. Larry and I have known one another since I was 6yrs old, both of our great-grandfathers were in the military together and both became Pastors and best friends, his here in NC and mine in NY where I’m originally from. We met in the summer of 1984 in Marianna, FL where both of our great-grandfathers attended a church conference and our families met up there. Through the years we saw one another quite often, keep in very close touch and well…I guess we just always knew that we’d end up together, if we didn’t, our families sure enough paid some extremely high phone bills for no reason.
When I graduated from High School, I came to Greensboro, NC to attend college and mainly to be closer to him. His family is from Scotland neck, NC and me being here was what we both wanted and needed at the time. Let me tell you why, (my “T”). My Domestic Violence issues didn’t start with Larry, they started when I was 13. Having both parents on drugs, other family members had to raise me. When I got the place where I realized that I was an unwanted child by my parents, at 13yrs old, I began to rebel against those that were raising me. My life with them wasn’t so bad, but I always felt different and felt like an outsider because I wasn’t able to call the man and woman that fed me “Mom & Dad” when the other children in the household did, she was THEIR mother and her husband was THEIR father.
After rebelling for so long, I got what I wanted, to be with my natural mother and to be able to call someone “Mom”. However, “Mom” and being with her was not the best thing for me. Addicted to crack cocaine and men, my mom a Puerto-Rican woman from Queens, NY, allowed me to be subject to a lifestyle that I knew nothing about. A lifestyle filled with watching her go through Domestic Violence as well as pulling me into the ring with her. It was the unhealthiest thing I knew.
After being raped at almost 14 years old, by one of her many men for almost 4 months, just so she could get high, and after her beating me herself when she wasn’t high and couldn’t get high or when she had to deal with the guidance counselor from school when I told her what my mother’s boyfriend was doing to me (raping me constantly). My mother beat me every day for almost a week and made me tell the counselor that I was lying, and I did that to keep the peace between my mother and I because I wanted a mother and I wanted to be wanted by my mother and didn’t want her to send me away from her, I just wanted her to get rid of that man, but she didn’t get rid of him, or any of the others and I was made to go a therapist since I told a “lie” about being raped. So I went to therapy and played my part, “the lying teenager who just wanted attention and made up this crazy rape story”. What real mother allows a man to rape her young teenager and then makes her lie about it to protect the man? But yeah…that’s how it went down…time and time again. That’s when my Domestic Violence “T” began. Yes, at the age of 13. At this time in my life, Larry was my savior.
When Larry began to drink, it didn’t bother me because by that time, I was used to being around drunks and junkies, my mother and all of her friends and many men. It was all I knew from 13-17. Hell, I had even began smoking weed and drinking myself and hanging in the clubs every weekend by the age of 14. I have always looked older than I was when I was younger, so getting into a club that was labeled “18 & older” was nothing, I was never asked for ID. Pop a little red lipstick on and some eye liner, throw on something tight and short and I was in there.
Larry’s dad was and still is an alcoholic to this day. It’s all he knew and he watched his father abuse his mother all of his life, he even pulled a gun on his dad one day because of it. Once Larry moved to Greensboro with me, I became pregnant with our first child and I thought life was grand. I had a man that loved me and a child that loves me and my family in NC was so different from my family in NY. I thought it would last forever in that manner. As the years went by, Larry and I went through our ups and downs, but in our last seven years together, the drinking was out of control on his part. My “T” with him began with him getting drunk and verbally abusing me for gaining weight after having our 2nd daughter.
We’d separate; get back together over and over again. The first physical fight came after he brought a woman into our home with me sitting right there and screwed her in our bed, while me, his sister and our oldest daughter slept on the couch (of course I wasn’t sleep). He didn’t care that I knew what he was doing, I even walked in the room and to tried to stop it, he told me to get out. Yes, I left 2 days after and went to a shelter with my daughter and no I wasn’t scared that he was going to physically harm me for leaving, but what I WAS scared of was being alone, without a man. I had adapted my mother’s traits. I had to have a man in my life, no matter how terrible he was; I didn’t think that I was a woman without one. I wasn’t afraid to be with him, I was afraid to be without him. When he would sex me, it made me feel good, I felt wanted. So no matter what we went through, we’d “Sex” afterwards. I could be his “FAT ASS BITCH” all day long, but by the end of the night, he’d be in-between this “Fat Ass Bitches” legs. That was his way of apologizing and my way of accepting. SICK MINDED, not him, but ME!!!!!
No matter all of the emotional abuse, verbal abuse that I had endured with him, I felt that I wanted and needed him. After I gave birth to our now 9yr old, I took him back (once again), knowing that the situation wasn’t going to get any better. Things would be good for a while, then go sour again, the bitches, whores, sluts, fat ass, all of that, it became of the norm to me. I thought ok, if he doesn’t get upset with me and fuss, then he doesn’t care or love me. But because I didn’t know what love was, damn sure didn’t love myself and was never shown HOW I was supposed to be loved, when he didn’t act the fool with me, I would do things to try to make him jealous with other men, just so that he would. I wanted SOME kind of attention from him, if not good, then bad would do, something was better than nothing. My self-esteem and love of self was non-existent.
We got to the point where we would verbally argue at least once every other day and physically fight one another at least once every 4/5 months. On December 11, 2010, I had enough. My kids were tired, I was tired. I looked into my babies eyes as her father screamed at her in a rage because she told her teacher that mommy & daddy fight a lot, that daddy drinks a lot and I was called to the school for a meeting because of it. He was yelling at her cussing at her and saying…“What happens in this house stays in this house”. At this time, my now 9yr old was only 5 and in Kindergarten. I saw the cycle about to continue and the generational curse torch about to be passed down to my girls…I realized my faults and I knew that I didn’t want to live like this anymore and I NEVER want for them to go through it. This wasn’t love. When he would walk in the house, my kids would scatter like roaches to their rooms just not to be around him. I couldn’t subject them to this anymore and I couldn’t do to them what my mother had done to me. I never wanted my children to look at me in the most awful and disgusting manner that I viewed my mother. So I prayed and prayed hard, Lord, please give me the strength to walk away from this man and please do NOT let it hurt. When I walked away, I smiled and have been at peace ever since.
After all of the being cheated on, being lied to, being spit on in the face (yes literally), being cussed out, the fighting verbally & physically, the feeling of self-worthlessness, having no love of self and after failing my children for so long, by not providing them with the safe and loving household that all children should have, I FINALLY let go and walked away. I was no longer afraid to be alone and not give my girls “mom and dad”. My girls would still have mom and dad, just not together. Until dad got through his illness, mom had to be the one to give them what they need and want. Love & Safety. Was this an easy choice? Yes & No. Yes because I was tired of the fighting and disrespect and my daughters and I not being happy. No, because I had to face the ridicule of a failed marriage and the self-epiphany of what I had allowed myself and my precious daughters to go through for so long and it was not necessary.
There’s nothing worse than being with someone but yet, still being and feeling alone, being hit, being called out of your name, having to suffer, watching your innocent children suffer. Domestic Violence doesn’t always involve a man beating a woman, as you can see…mine started with my mother. Many people on the outside looking in, tried to tell me so many times to walk away, but I didn’t hear that. I wanted MY man, I wanted to be loved, or have what I thought love was.
It’s sad to say, but as much as we sometimes preach what’s right to people, they still do and stay in what is wrong , until that person that’s being preached to gets sick and tired of being sick and tired, then no matter what you say MAY NOT seem like it’s making a difference. However, awareness is key, so we have to KEEP speaking and letting our “Ts” be known and heard. It’s swept under the rug so much in our communities and we feel ashamed to tell our “Ts” in fear of what people may think about us. But you never know how your “T” will help to inspire someone to “GET OUT” of it, whether it’s a couple, or a family member, ANY KIND OF ABUSE is NEVER ok.
My story has led me to write a series of books. My story is much more complicated than the few words I have written on this blog but I am hoping that my book series will be fully published by the early spring of 2014 and that they reach millions, but if they inspire just one PERSON, not woman, man, child but one person to “GET OUT”, then my “T” is not in vein. The series is titled “I Ninah”. I hope that you all read and enjoy my story and that it touches you, or someone that you may know who is going through Domestic Violence, and MANY other matters and situations in life on many different levels or in any kind of way. With all of us speaking out and telling our stories, with the help of organizations such as NaQia’s (L.O.V.E.) and so many others and with the voice of reason, we can down-size and wipe out this epidemic.
Thank you for taking the time to read a little bit about my “T”! God Bless you all and remember, “Domestic or any kind of violence is NEVER ok”.
Micole J
My name is Micole, a 34yr old now divorced, single mother of 3 daughters ages 16, 9 & 6. I was with their father Larry for just about 16yrs. Larry and I have known one another since I was 6yrs old, both of our great-grandfathers were in the military together and both became Pastors and best friends, his here in NC and mine in NY where I’m originally from. We met in the summer of 1984 in Marianna, FL where both of our great-grandfathers attended a church conference and our families met up there. Through the years we saw one another quite often, keep in very close touch and well…I guess we just always knew that we’d end up together, if we didn’t, our families sure enough paid some extremely high phone bills for no reason.
When I graduated from High School, I came to Greensboro, NC to attend college and mainly to be closer to him. His family is from Scotland neck, NC and me being here was what we both wanted and needed at the time. Let me tell you why, (my “T”). My Domestic Violence issues didn’t start with Larry, they started when I was 13. Having both parents on drugs, other family members had to raise me. When I got the place where I realized that I was an unwanted child by my parents, at 13yrs old, I began to rebel against those that were raising me. My life with them wasn’t so bad, but I always felt different and felt like an outsider because I wasn’t able to call the man and woman that fed me “Mom & Dad” when the other children in the household did, she was THEIR mother and her husband was THEIR father.
After rebelling for so long, I got what I wanted, to be with my natural mother and to be able to call someone “Mom”. However, “Mom” and being with her was not the best thing for me. Addicted to crack cocaine and men, my mom a Puerto-Rican woman from Queens, NY, allowed me to be subject to a lifestyle that I knew nothing about. A lifestyle filled with watching her go through Domestic Violence as well as pulling me into the ring with her. It was the unhealthiest thing I knew.
After being raped at almost 14 years old, by one of her many men for almost 4 months, just so she could get high, and after her beating me herself when she wasn’t high and couldn’t get high or when she had to deal with the guidance counselor from school when I told her what my mother’s boyfriend was doing to me (raping me constantly). My mother beat me every day for almost a week and made me tell the counselor that I was lying, and I did that to keep the peace between my mother and I because I wanted a mother and I wanted to be wanted by my mother and didn’t want her to send me away from her, I just wanted her to get rid of that man, but she didn’t get rid of him, or any of the others and I was made to go a therapist since I told a “lie” about being raped. So I went to therapy and played my part, “the lying teenager who just wanted attention and made up this crazy rape story”. What real mother allows a man to rape her young teenager and then makes her lie about it to protect the man? But yeah…that’s how it went down…time and time again. That’s when my Domestic Violence “T” began. Yes, at the age of 13. At this time in my life, Larry was my savior.
When Larry began to drink, it didn’t bother me because by that time, I was used to being around drunks and junkies, my mother and all of her friends and many men. It was all I knew from 13-17. Hell, I had even began smoking weed and drinking myself and hanging in the clubs every weekend by the age of 14. I have always looked older than I was when I was younger, so getting into a club that was labeled “18 & older” was nothing, I was never asked for ID. Pop a little red lipstick on and some eye liner, throw on something tight and short and I was in there.
Larry’s dad was and still is an alcoholic to this day. It’s all he knew and he watched his father abuse his mother all of his life, he even pulled a gun on his dad one day because of it. Once Larry moved to Greensboro with me, I became pregnant with our first child and I thought life was grand. I had a man that loved me and a child that loves me and my family in NC was so different from my family in NY. I thought it would last forever in that manner. As the years went by, Larry and I went through our ups and downs, but in our last seven years together, the drinking was out of control on his part. My “T” with him began with him getting drunk and verbally abusing me for gaining weight after having our 2nd daughter.
We’d separate; get back together over and over again. The first physical fight came after he brought a woman into our home with me sitting right there and screwed her in our bed, while me, his sister and our oldest daughter slept on the couch (of course I wasn’t sleep). He didn’t care that I knew what he was doing, I even walked in the room and to tried to stop it, he told me to get out. Yes, I left 2 days after and went to a shelter with my daughter and no I wasn’t scared that he was going to physically harm me for leaving, but what I WAS scared of was being alone, without a man. I had adapted my mother’s traits. I had to have a man in my life, no matter how terrible he was; I didn’t think that I was a woman without one. I wasn’t afraid to be with him, I was afraid to be without him. When he would sex me, it made me feel good, I felt wanted. So no matter what we went through, we’d “Sex” afterwards. I could be his “FAT ASS BITCH” all day long, but by the end of the night, he’d be in-between this “Fat Ass Bitches” legs. That was his way of apologizing and my way of accepting. SICK MINDED, not him, but ME!!!!!
No matter all of the emotional abuse, verbal abuse that I had endured with him, I felt that I wanted and needed him. After I gave birth to our now 9yr old, I took him back (once again), knowing that the situation wasn’t going to get any better. Things would be good for a while, then go sour again, the bitches, whores, sluts, fat ass, all of that, it became of the norm to me. I thought ok, if he doesn’t get upset with me and fuss, then he doesn’t care or love me. But because I didn’t know what love was, damn sure didn’t love myself and was never shown HOW I was supposed to be loved, when he didn’t act the fool with me, I would do things to try to make him jealous with other men, just so that he would. I wanted SOME kind of attention from him, if not good, then bad would do, something was better than nothing. My self-esteem and love of self was non-existent.
We got to the point where we would verbally argue at least once every other day and physically fight one another at least once every 4/5 months. On December 11, 2010, I had enough. My kids were tired, I was tired. I looked into my babies eyes as her father screamed at her in a rage because she told her teacher that mommy & daddy fight a lot, that daddy drinks a lot and I was called to the school for a meeting because of it. He was yelling at her cussing at her and saying…“What happens in this house stays in this house”. At this time, my now 9yr old was only 5 and in Kindergarten. I saw the cycle about to continue and the generational curse torch about to be passed down to my girls…I realized my faults and I knew that I didn’t want to live like this anymore and I NEVER want for them to go through it. This wasn’t love. When he would walk in the house, my kids would scatter like roaches to their rooms just not to be around him. I couldn’t subject them to this anymore and I couldn’t do to them what my mother had done to me. I never wanted my children to look at me in the most awful and disgusting manner that I viewed my mother. So I prayed and prayed hard, Lord, please give me the strength to walk away from this man and please do NOT let it hurt. When I walked away, I smiled and have been at peace ever since.
After all of the being cheated on, being lied to, being spit on in the face (yes literally), being cussed out, the fighting verbally & physically, the feeling of self-worthlessness, having no love of self and after failing my children for so long, by not providing them with the safe and loving household that all children should have, I FINALLY let go and walked away. I was no longer afraid to be alone and not give my girls “mom and dad”. My girls would still have mom and dad, just not together. Until dad got through his illness, mom had to be the one to give them what they need and want. Love & Safety. Was this an easy choice? Yes & No. Yes because I was tired of the fighting and disrespect and my daughters and I not being happy. No, because I had to face the ridicule of a failed marriage and the self-epiphany of what I had allowed myself and my precious daughters to go through for so long and it was not necessary.
There’s nothing worse than being with someone but yet, still being and feeling alone, being hit, being called out of your name, having to suffer, watching your innocent children suffer. Domestic Violence doesn’t always involve a man beating a woman, as you can see…mine started with my mother. Many people on the outside looking in, tried to tell me so many times to walk away, but I didn’t hear that. I wanted MY man, I wanted to be loved, or have what I thought love was.
It’s sad to say, but as much as we sometimes preach what’s right to people, they still do and stay in what is wrong , until that person that’s being preached to gets sick and tired of being sick and tired, then no matter what you say MAY NOT seem like it’s making a difference. However, awareness is key, so we have to KEEP speaking and letting our “Ts” be known and heard. It’s swept under the rug so much in our communities and we feel ashamed to tell our “Ts” in fear of what people may think about us. But you never know how your “T” will help to inspire someone to “GET OUT” of it, whether it’s a couple, or a family member, ANY KIND OF ABUSE is NEVER ok.
My story has led me to write a series of books. My story is much more complicated than the few words I have written on this blog but I am hoping that my book series will be fully published by the early spring of 2014 and that they reach millions, but if they inspire just one PERSON, not woman, man, child but one person to “GET OUT”, then my “T” is not in vein. The series is titled “I Ninah”. I hope that you all read and enjoy my story and that it touches you, or someone that you may know who is going through Domestic Violence, and MANY other matters and situations in life on many different levels or in any kind of way. With all of us speaking out and telling our stories, with the help of organizations such as NaQia’s (L.O.V.E.) and so many others and with the voice of reason, we can down-size and wipe out this epidemic.
Thank you for taking the time to read a little bit about my “T”! God Bless you all and remember, “Domestic or any kind of violence is NEVER ok”.
Micole J