Going Home

I have tons of things to say right now.  Tons.  I want to get it all out and reason and backtrack and ruminate.  But I can’t right now.  I won’t be by myself again until Tuesday.  The day I will call and arrange for the pick up of my things and to call about filing for divorce.

Here is what happened.  I have to write this down.  Because I need a place to put this where he can’t see it, and he doesn’t know about this account.

Deep breath.

Sunday morning about 2:00 a.m. Lilly had been up all night and was fussy and loud. She woke up Trent and J by crying loudly.  J came into her room where I was laying down with her and said, “If you don’t quit crying bloody murder, I am going to give you a reason to cry bloody murder for the rest of the night.” and left the room.

She kept at it and maybe two minutes later he came back in and put his hand over her face. Her nose and mouth. I told him to stop three times, and he wouldn’t so I grabbed his arm and tried to pry it away from her.  I couldn’t get him off of her and kept pulling and telling him to stop.

Then he let go of her and grabbed me by the throat and squeezed. Hard.  I couldn’t breathe and tried grabbing his arm and he wouldn’t let go.  He pushed at my neck with his arm and strangled me and eventually my head and shoulders were hanging off the bed. I swatted at his shoulders and tried to grab him to get him to let me go.

I could not breathe.

I started flailing at him, pushing at his chest, his shoulders, his neck. Anything to get him to let go.

Eventually things started spinning and I felt that weak, tunnel vision thing you get right before you pass out.

He said, “What are you going to do?! Are you going to try to choke me out, bitch? I will put you through the fucking window.”

We were upstairs at the time.

There is a lot of things I want to type.  I don’t want to get caught writing this, so I am going to be brief.  But I am not staying to wait for the possibility of another time.  This abuse has been going on ever since I found out I was pregnant.  I am smart enough to know that this doesn’t stop.  I need to leave.  And so the kids and I are leaving.

He says that this is my fault.  That I am the one that started it by putting my hand on his arm.  That I assaulted him.  And that is the reason he choked me.  That I am in the wrong.  That I resorted to physical violence because I grabbed his wrist and tried to pull it away from Lilly’s face. He said that I had other routes I could have taken. I told him I yelled for him to stop three times before I tried moving his hand, and the whole time I was pulling I kept screaming for him to stop. He says he didn’t hear me. I asked what other avenues he would have had me take, he said I could have tried to pick her up and take her out of the room. His arm and part of his body was blocking me from her, and I couldn’t get to her.

Me: What would you have done to me had I tried that?

Him: I don’t know. It didn’t go down that way.

You know what? If I think you are the reason my daughter can’t breathe, I will claw your eyes out to save her. I didn’t just jump right to trying to pull his arm away from her for no apparent reason. I asked him to stop. I begged him to stop. I screamed for him to stop. And if he would have continued, I would have done anything to protect her. I’m her mom. It’s my job.

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One Response to Going Home

  1. Pingback: i used to think that life would be sunshine and puddin’ cups. it turns out that the sun is just really hot and pudding goes straight to my ass. « Blogsauce

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