c/w: abuse, domestic violence, assault
A couple of years ago, I was living in Chicago because I decided to do a year of volunteer work. I chose to work as a Domestic Violence Counselor at an agency in the suburbs. I worked with many women and children who suffered abuse from a partner, a family member, a stranger… I went to court with clients whose children were in the care of the Department of Child and Family Services (DCFS). I learned all the signs of an abuser, I learned about the Power and Control Wheel, I learned all the symptoms of abuse, I learned reasons why people stay, I learned how to help my clients process their abuse and learn to own their stories.
Today I’m going to help myself do that very same thing. To do that, I’m going to share my story. I’m going to write about my abuser, Jason. I’m going to use his real name because it is important to my healing. It is important to reiterate that none of the abuse was my fault. What happened, happened TO me, not BECAUSE of me. Jason’s actions are his own, and using his name allows me, as a survivor of his abuse, to give them a home.
Let’s start from the beginning. Easter weekend, March 2016. I traveled from Chicago, IL to Charlotte, NC to visit some friends for the holiday. We planned on going to a Bunny Bar Crawl that Saturday night; I can’t even remember how many different bars we went to. I just remember that at the last bar, I saw this guy dancing with his friends. I was drawn to his energy and asked him to dance. His friends started poking fun at him because a girl approached him. The immaturity wasn’t a good look, so I walked away and went back to hanging out with my friends. About 20 minutes later, the bar started closing up and kicking people out. This guy came up to me as I was walking away and apologized for not dancing with me. He introduced himself as Jason and we exchanged contact information. I figured, “why not, it’s not like I’ll ever see him again.”
Over the course of the next year, Jason and I chatted briefly over Facebook and text. I found out he has a son, grew up in NC, but moved to the DMV to be closer to his kid. When March 2017 rolled around, Jason went to visit his father’s side of the family in Kansas because his grandma passed away. We were talking more frequently at this point. I had already suggested he come to visit me in Chicago if he ever found himself in the Midwest, and he decided to take me up on the offer.
The original plan was that he was only going to stay for the day, sleepover, and then head back to northern Virginia in the morning. Well, that day was so magical that the next morning we woke up, and he asked me to drive down to VA with him and spend the week (since I didn’t have work). High off the excitement and adventurous spirit, I went. One of the most memorable nights of that week was eating Chinese food & watching Balto, because as I was doing so, Facebook reminded me that Jason & I had met exactly a year prior…weird how that shit works, right?
When the week was through, I flew back to Chicago. Jason & I talked every chance we got. Soon enough, we had a long-distance relationship going. We started to fall in love. At the end of April, Jason & I took a camping trip to South Carolina, which is where he officially asked me to be his girlfriend.
Side note: I applied for graduate school in February of 2016 at Shenandoah University, which is in Virginia. Jason being in my life had zero influence on that decision, I want to make that extremely clear. I just saw it as a happy coincidence.
In June of 2016, I found out that I had been accepted at Shenandoah and planned to move to Virginia by the end of July/beginning of August. Jason and I talked about it and it just made sense to move in together, so we did.
I immediately got hired at two part-time jobs and spent all my free time before school getting the apartment in order and prepping for my first semester as a grad student. A few weeks in, Jason lost his job.
Once school started, I was up by 6am most mornings and home by 10pm most nights. Now, any normal person that spent that much time out of the house would want to just come home and relax before having to complete the routine all over again. Any normal person would also assume that if your partner is out all day and you’re at home, chores at home would get done by that person. They weren’t.
Jason would spend his days playing video games, hanging out with his friends, doing anything but keeping the house tidy. The abuse started with verbal comments about how I was “lazy.” Gradually my weight became a problem. I’d get home and want to decompress and be told I was “fat and lazy.” I’d counter these jabs with how I was working all day and at school and I just wanted to be able to come home and chill out. That wasn’t good enough for Jason. So even though I’d get home late, I’d still try to go grocery shopping and cook dinner and clean up around the apartment. It was exhausting. I figured, once Jason found a job, things would get better.
In the span of our relationship, Jason found two other jobs and only stayed at each for about a month at a time. Which meant throughout our entire almost 2 year relationship, Jason worked for maybe 7 months of it. The rest of his time was spent doing anything else. We’d get into arguments about how he wasn’t helping around the house and all the bills were on my shoulders. It didn’t matter to him.
I don’t remember the first time he hit me. I don’t know why I didn’t leave right then and there. There were so many other issues, his past relationships that weren’t quite over, dealing with baby momma drama, his lying, his substance and alcohol abuse, etc. But once the hitting started, it became routine. He made me feel bad about my body. He made me feel bad about my anxiety. He made me feel bad about making music. He made me feel bad about myself completely and totally. I didn’t want to go home at night because I didn’t know which “Jason” I’d be going home to. That’s not love. That’s not how I wanted to build a life with my partner. Even though we had started talking about getting engaged and moving forward with our life together, it finally dawned on me that he would never be my forever.
I remember one night I was standing in our bedroom doorway having a horrible panic attack because of him yelling at me. When I have panic attacks, I just need water. I was using sign language to ask him to bring me water and he said “you need to figure that out, what would you do if I wasn’t here?” and he walked out. I passed out from hyperventilating and I must’ve hit my head on the doorframe because I woke up on the floor to an empty house and a bump on my head. I don’t know how long I was out for, but he didn’t come back until very late that night.
Another time we were having an argument while I was sitting on the couch doing homework. He was so angry, he punched a hole in our coffee table and started throwing things. He grabbed a stack of DVDs and threw them at me giving me a black eye. He didn’t stay after that happened. He just walked out to go get high with his friends. I sent him a picture of my eye, bloody and bruised. He apologized and brought me flowers the next morning. I still have a scar.
Another time we were arguing and it was so bad I just went to hide in the bedroom. I closed and locked the door and got under the covers. He broke down the door, came to my side of the bed, choked me out and said he could kill me right then and there and no one would know or care. I couldn’t breathe, I really thought he was going to kill me. I lost vision. When I could finally breathe again, I heard the door slam. He left.
Another time we were driving up to New York to visit my family. Again, I found myself in an argument with him. Next thing I know, he’s punching me as I’m driving on the Jersey Turnpike.
These are the moments that stand out to me the most. These are the moments that I have flashbacks to. Months ago, anything could trigger a flashback. I’m getting better at handling that.
June 2018 I was in New York by myself visiting friends and family. One of my best friends was celebrating her birthday at the beach and I was happy to be there to celebrate with her and a bunch of friends I hadn’t seen in years. Jason and I spoke on the phone later that day, he commented that he saw the pictures on Facebook from the beach party. “You looked like you had a lot of fun. But you looked really fat in your bathing suit, couldn’t you have worn something else?”
And that was it. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I broke up with him over the phone right then and there. I was yelling, I was fuming, I was angry and I wasn’t holding back. I wanted him out of the apartment by the time I came home. I was sick of his abuse in all its forms. I didn’t deserve any of that treatment. I deserve way better and the only way I’m going to be with someone that deserves to be with me, is to leave Jason.
When I got home a day or two later, he was still in the apartment. He wanted to fix things. After all, we were supposed to go to his mom’s wedding in California next month. That’s when he was going to propose. I’m pretty sure he had already bought the ring. I didn’t go. I spent that time finding a new apartment and moving my stuff a little at a time. My best friends Ashley and Caitlyn helped me. At this point, no one knew Jason was abusive towards me. They just knew we argued a lot.
Before I officially moved out, Jason tried his hardest to make things work again. He didn’t want me to go. He wanted us to be together. He had become reliant on me and comfortable with the way I let him live his life and he wasn’t ready for that to change. I wasn’t backing down on the break-up, but I was still trying to keep the peace.
When I finally moved into my new home, I let Jason leave as much of his stuff there as he wanted since he would be couch surfing until he found a new place and a new job. It was August 6th, 2018 when I moved into my new place. I love it there. I spent the rest of the summer exploring the new area and getting to know my roommates. Jason would sleep over every once in a while, when he needed somewhere to stay. Some nights he would convince me to let him sleep in bed with me instead of on the couch.
Then school started. So I’m studying to become a music therapist, so Fall of 2018, I was supposed to have two different practicum placements, one in a mental health facility and one in a medical facility. The first time I was at mental health practicum, other students and I were observing the music therapist run two sessions. At a point during the second session, she was playing Landslide by Fleetwood Mac and I finally realized all the things that Jason put me through.
I had loved someone who had abused me.
I held in my tears for the remainder of the session, but as soon as we got into supervision, I started bawling. I had to tell people. I needed help. How could I let this happen? What did I do to deserve this? Why did Jason feel the need to hurt me?
That’s when I knew I needed space, I needed time away from Jason. Fuck his stuff. He could come get it when I was ready for him to come get it. Yet, one night he showed up at my house around 5am demanding to get his belongings. He created a ruckus for a little over an hour. Yelling my name at my house, throwing rocks at my bedroom window, honking his car horn, and calling my phone non-stop. I’m pretty sure he was drunk.
I ended up blocking his number and going to sleep just to leave my house at 9:30ish the next morning to go to work. And there he was, waiting by my car. I told him he could come get his thins at a normal time, when I was ready for him to come get them. September and October were quiet months. So was some of November.
Until Thanksgiving came along. I told Jason I didn’t want to talk to him until after the semester was over because I was trying to figure out how to be a student and a survivor of domestic violence. He was angry, but he did give me some space. He would send sweet messages for the holidays and tell me how his son was doing. He tried very hard to charm his way back into my life. And for a brief period of time, he did. The same cycle started up all over again, only a smidge different this time.
In January and February of 2019, Jason would schedule a time to come over and get some of his things. Every instance would follow the same formula: Jason would come over with food or a little gift. He’d flirt with me which would turn into something physical regardless of however many times I said no. He’d finish and then pick a fight with me over anything. He didn’t hit me, but he would grab me or push me. Then he’d take one or two items of his and storm off. I couldn’t live like that anymore. I was trying to heal from his abuse, not find ways to keep putting up with it.
In March, one of my friends came over to help me gather all of Jason’s things. We went through every inch of the house to make sure I didn’t miss anything. But we finally got all of Jason’s things piled up in one section of the house. It wasn’t until April 20th, 2019 that Jason finally came to get his things. I made sure I wasn’t alone this time. The same friend was there with me. They helped Jason pack his belongings in his car. They made sure I was safe and supported. Jason grabbed the last of his things and said he’d be right back to bring me what he had of mine. Instead, he decided to just drive off because “it was too hard” for him to be around me. He texted me that night cursing me out and I just ignored it. It was done. Jason was gone. I was free. Or so I thought.
Only two weeks went by and Jason found himself at my house again in the middle of the night claiming I was keeping things of his. There was an item left behind in the shuffle of packing. An old little rocking chair his grandpa had built for his mom.
It was May 5th, 2019 at 4:30-5am. I was driving home from a friend’s house. I just pulled into my parking space, was singing to myself as I was getting my belongings out of my car when wham. Someone pushed me into my car and slammed the door shut on my left hand. I screamed, turned around, saw Jason, smelled alcohol, and heard gibberish about the chair. I yelled “you better leave right now or I’m calling the police” and I ran inside. I locked the front door and then locked myself in my bedroom door. I didn’t see Jason get out of a car and I didn’t see him get into one. I just knew that I didn’t know where he was now and I was scared. I called my friend and they stayed with me to ensure I was safe.
That Monday, I did something that very few victims of domestic violence do. I called the police. I filed a report and started the process to obtain an order of protection. I was granted an emergency two-week order and then would have to see Jason at a hearing to obtain a two-year order. That whole process was terrifying, but I was supported every step of the way. At the two-year hearing, Jason admitted to all the abuse except for that one night in May, since that’s why I was filing the order. Regardless, it was still granted and Jason is not allowed near me or to contact me for the next two years. Now I am finally free.
I’ve had more panic attacks and nightmares because of Jason than I care to admit. I’ve gone to group and individual therapy because of it. But I am strong, and I am healing. Just because this happened to me doesn’t mean that this will define who I am for the rest of my life…because I won’t allow it. I am a survivor and survive I will.
It took me a few days to fully write this because I needed to stop every once in a while. I started writing on September 23, 2019 and finished on September 27, 2019.
(I’m not sure if I’m going to post this on any other form of social media just yet, but I figured this would be a good place to start. If you’ve gotten to the end, I thank you for taking the time to get to know my story. If you’ve gone through something similar, or think you know someone who is going through something similar, I am very open to talking about this and providing any form of support possible.)
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