[L] Promised not to kill himself. He didn’t demand I take him back directly but only asked that I be there for him. “[He] knew we couldn’t be together” but he “couldn’t bear to lose his best friend.” He needed me to help him through until he was whole again. He swore he was going to get treatment. He was going to be a better person. He was going to do all of the things we originally talked about. He was going back to [ANOTHER STATE] and he was going to fix himself until we could be together again. He was slowly worming his way back in.

That lasted 2 weeks. He was in this other state for 2 weeks before we both felt lost and empty. I was still in a hazy PTSD, trauma bond, concussion state. I truly don’t think I 100% realized the implications of what I was doing, I just needed my person back. The one person who still knew what I went through and could relate (even if he was the perpetrator) He wanted to come “home.” I agreed to go get him. He told his friends he was living with down there that he had to come home to take care of “legal stuff” and faked that he was going to fly out of the local airport. I insisted on him bringing his dog [T-DUM] with him. To be honest I was still bitter that I had done so much for this dog as a puppy, and I never even got to meet him. I felt that if he was going to be a part of the future we were still trying to create together he needed to come with. [L] resisted, but his friends had already been complaining about having to take care of his dog on top of the ones they already had, and [L] couldn’t afford to send them money for food, [T-DUM] still hadn’t been neutered, I truly thought the best place for him was with me. Even if I had some other bitter reasons why I wanted to meet him and why I wanted him here so much.

[BABY] was away with his dad at the time so I once again drove all night– thankfully not through a blizzard that time– to pick him up at the airport he said he was flying out of. We drove straight back home that day. About 3 hours from home we already started having our first argument. I’m not 100% sure what it was even about at this point but it was clear nothing had changed. I could see he was still the same man who got drunk, had a fit of rage, and savagely beat me.

We continued seeing each other off and on when we could until October. Things went back to normal, he would freak out the second I wasn’t answering my phone calls. He was sleeping on his friends couch and staying with me when [BABY] was out of town. We would see each other during the day when [BABY] was at preschool and every other spare time I could manage. I kept him fed and gave him money when I could. He was working a manual labor job, constantly complaining about the pay and how his friend was charging him rent for sleeping on his couch. I was the one who went to Colorado and got him so I was responsible for him not having a job and being “stuck here.” His dog [T-DUM] had to live with me, his friend’s place didn’t allow dogs, it had no yard, he had no money for food or vet bills. I felt guilty. I felt it was my fault he was now back in a rut in a toxic place with no money. I did everything in my power to help him even still, while still making sure [BABY] was safe. I never did drop the second restraining order (the one I was given after his attempt on my life) I didn’t feel like I could. I knew above all else I atleast needed that bit of protection. Even though I prayed I would never have to use it, I needed that “control” if you will so if things got dangerous again I had a way out.

Turns out I would eventually need to use that escape route.

The last time [BABY] went to visit his dad was rough. Previously when we were together [L] would have minor outbursts in between the major ones: screaming, degrading, shoving, blaming his actions on me, disappearing to drink and not coming home at night. I could tell he was trying so hard to keep the worst of his outbursts in check since I had come to get him. He was still controlling, still emotionally and mentally abusive but not as severely as before. I could feel the tension building, I had a gut feeling something bad was coming, and quickly. It was an impending sense of doom–not to try and be too dramatic but I’m not sure how else to describe it.

In October after a routine visit [BABY] had with his dad I was due to pick him up that night from the airport. [L] knew far in advance that this was coming, he would have to go back to his friend’s couch. Our time together would be limited. When we were together during that time I started to suggest he go back to [OTHER STATE] and try and find work there since he was constantly complaining about his job here. I offered to pay for a plane ticket and found several that were reasonably priced and leaving soon, I offered to send him by bus. He always had excuses, he also didn’t want to leave [T-DUM] and dogs weren’t allowed on the flights I was looking at. I offered to send him later via a pet transport company, or find a later flight that would accept him as cargo, he refused everything. He had no intention of returning. I believe [L] knew I wanted to get rid of him. I wanted him gone before the next major blow up, I now knew the most dangerous time to be in an abusive relationship is when you’re leaving. I wanted him hundreds of miles away before I broke things off. I could feel it coming, it was only a matter of time, he would hurt me again. I was worried with the severity of the past offences that I wouldn’t survive this one. I hid my guns.

He couldn’t be trusted around my son still. He refused. He said no. He wasn’t going back to his friends house either. I was the reason he was here and it was all my fault. If I didn’t want him back in my life I never should have gone and got him from [OTHER STATE]. We were going back and forth about how he could never be a part of [BABY]’s life until I had tangible proof that he had changed. I needed real documentation, letters from counselors, AA meetings, Therapy, so much time sober, (probably drug tests) before I could even begin to justify bringing him back into my family. His response was “I guess you just can’t have [BABY] then”.

This was a bone chilling, goosebumps all over my body, threat. His eyes change at times, it’s so hard to explain to someone who’s never seen it. It’s like a switch flips inside him and I’ve come to recognize that look and I’ve learned when that happens he’s out to hurt me, or someone else. One way or another, unless I find a way to bring him back down to reality quickly and appease him, he will do something horrible. That flash in his eyes told me all I needed to know. He was still capable of horrible dangerous things. I felt it coming but this just confirmed things.

The way he said it, the look in his eyes. I knew not only was he capable of hurting me but I believed he was now capable of actively seeking out my son and hurting him. I have explained in previous posts how he had begun to resent my child as the wall keeping us apart. This was the defining moment. I knew it could never be the same. I was willing to risk my life and safety for the man I loved. But a mother’s love is so much beyond that. I would never risk my child for this man.

I got him talked down and he agreed to go back to his friend’s house to stay that night. It was only one night. He was leaving in the morning to go to a nearby city to work on a project for his job and would be gone for 2-3 days. After what I had seen that night I knew this was my best chance, my time to leave safely, I would be beyond his reach. I knew it was time to sever all ties as soon as I saw that look. I cried the entire one hour drive to the airport, went into the airport and cleaned my face off, and picked up my son. It was a late night flight so my son slept the entire way home and I cried the entire drive back. I was terrified of leaving, of what he may be capable of.

I called him on my way back to town, still clearly sobbing, and told him my father had had a heart attack. [BABY] and I were going straight home to pack our bags and leave to be with him. Sometimes when you’re in a panic you have moments of clarity, that night I vividly remember a moment with my father as a teenager saying if I ever was in a situation where I didn’t feel comfortable I could always use him as an excuse to leave (ie. “my dad just called and is being a jerk I have to go home, etc) so I knew he wouldn’t be upset by the lie and would be proud of me for keeping us safe no matter what I said. I didn’t want to [L] come by the house that night after his earlier threat.

I truly did plan on packing bags and driving to my parents house that night, but on a whim I decided to check the weather and there was a winter storm warning. I parked my car a block away from the house and kept the doors locked and lights off all night to make it look like no one was home. I set fake alarms on my phone so I would send text messages checking in at the right times along the way to make my trip seem legitimate. Just in case. Just until I knew he had left town for work. I texted both of my parents in the middle of the night saying “call me as soon as you wake up, no matter what time it is.” I needed to make sure there was no backing out, no talking myself out of it or rationalizing it, or pretending I just imagined the look and the threat. I needed to verbalize it to make it real.

So, I had a broken face. I had a broken heart. I had a concussion, PTSD (Slowly developing over time), and I was confused even after all that had happened. I loved him still. Yeah, this is generally the part where everything seems a little crazy…..How do you love a man you are terrified of? How do you miss someone who tried to kill you? How is it even minutely possible to think you can still help him, fix him, be with him?

I tried to ignore these feelings. My doctors upped my anxiety medication, put me on a mood stabilizer that they believed could help with the up and down swings that came with the developing PTSD and the overall depression I was experiencing. My parents helped me pack up my apartment and emergency move in 3 days so [L] wouldn’t know where I was living. I found out who my real friends were during that time, the ones who show up to help when everyone else was confused and scared about the situation and were trying to remain “neutral”. Most of my real friends had been cut off during my relationship with [L] so I was fairly alone during this time.

The assault happened in the Spring of 2019, I can honestly say I don’t remember much until fall. I generally know what happened but everything is behind a wall of fog. [BABY] and I went and stayed with my parents for a while. We camped with my parents, I drank a lot (too much) with childhood friends, I stayed in my childhood home in a makeshift set up in the basement. [BABY] and I played as much as we could, but thank God I had my younger siblings, his aunts and uncles, there to help me through the summer. I was a shell of myself. There were days I could hardly get out of bed, especially when [BABY] went to visit his father. I suffered from severe migraines, the result of my concussion. I was forced to leave my job, even after my 12 weeks of Family Medical Leave Act I still wasn’t healthy enough to go back to work. The computer screens and bright lighs made the migraines worse. My vision in my left eye had changed pretty drastically and was continuing to change as it healed so that definitely added to the migraines. The depression was crippling. I felt so betrayed, so lost, so hopeless.

There were definite moments of bravery and clarity scattered in there that I remember more vividly than the rest. Like my parents headed back to their house and took [BABY] so I could finish up some legal stuff and join them later in the week once I had more of my house packed up. I went out with some friends, the real ones I found I could depend on….. and one night I decided to say “F*** it” and I went out without makeup on. I learned pretty quickly how to cover and hide the bruising and holes in my lip as they healed but this day, I just didn’t care. I remember thinking “let them look, let them see, I survived.” I was brave. My mom was pretty insistent I keep my bruises and face covered with makeup as much as I could while I was healing. I wore huge aviator sunglasses for months. They became my favorite way to hide my face. I resented having to hide sometimes, I wanted to be brave and say this is who I am now. Broken but alive.

I remember showing up to hang out with a group of friends when I was home and I decided not to wear makeup, I had healed a lot by then. I warned my cousin as he’s one of my best friends. The weird thing about my cousin is that he is very close friends with my first highschool boyfriend. I don’t know how to abbreviate him here. His name also starts with the letter L, so we’ll just go with [X]. [X] and I have remained friends off and on for several years and we’ve had our little snuggly “more than friends” moments off and on before [L] and I were together. I showed up that night feeling fearless, and terrified by what people would think of my bruised and broken face. [X] pulled me aside and we were talking and I mentioned my face and he laughed and said “[NAME REDACTED] you’re beautiful, you’ve always been beautiful and broken faces heal. You’re strong and you’ll be even more beautiful after this.” Yeah, I definitely cried. Like hurt my torn up face crying.

I came back to my current home mid summer, it was time for another visit with [BABY]’s father, so I needed to drive back to meet him at our normal airport where he usually flies out of. I felt like I had been with my parents for too long and it was time for me to start healing on my own and I decided to stay home. I wanted so badly to be brave. I tried to break out of my shell and go out with friends again. In our small little town there’s really not much to do so I went out with my friends a few times.

July- durring a celebration in our town. [L] was hospitalized. He later admitted he remembered that I was his emergency contact and was hoping they would call me. Thankfully his mom went with him to the ER and demanded that she go inside. He had slit his wrist, he still has a deep ugly scar from the attempt. Of course I found out about the attempt anyways, even though his mother was there to stop the emergency contact call. News travels fast in a small town. I wanted so badly to go to him then but I held off, I couldn’t face him. I blamed myself for his attempt.

One night they had early obligations in the morning but I had run into other friends/acquaintances that had come from out of town so I decided to stay out late. They had also been [L]’s mutual friends at some point or another but weren’t really close with him. One of these friends happened to be the guy who was there during the assault. The one who pulled [L] off of me and probably saved my life. This was the first time we had actually ever hung out besides saying hi in passing. The other guy works out of town and likes to come back and party on his time off, so I ended up taking far too many shots and drinking way more than I ever would have on normal circumstances, I was still coherent, I didn’t black out, and [BABY] was with his dad. I deserved to cut loose and have a little “safe” fun after everything I had been through. While sitting at the bar with them I learned that [L] had come back to town that day for his arraignment on the felony assault charges. We decided it wasn’t safe to stay out drinking so we ended up going back to the out of towner’s house and played fetch with his dog and just hung out BS-ing. Honestly we just had good clean fun, drunk fun, but nothing nefarious. At some point we were outside playing fetch with his dog, and the moon was lit up, several significant landmarks in our town were lit up, it was a beautiful clear night–but maybe that’s the concussion speaking. We decided we definitely needed to take some selfies to remember the night. We laughed, we took pictures, we made silly faces, we posed with the dog, it was funny and exactly what I needed. I needed to feel normal after so much SHIT. I needed to forget the hurt for just a little while.

Prior that week [L] had posted the Dan and Shay song “Tequila makes me think of you” to his facebook. I am a known tequila drinker. It is definitely my drink of choice and when everyone else is shooting whiskey I am usually the lone tequila shot. I used to bartend, I used to go up to the bar when [L] was bartending, it is a well known fact in our small town that I love tequila. Within hours of him posting that song I had several people send me screenshots of his facebook laughing saying things like “hmm wonder who that could be about” and other off hand comments. I did my best to ignore it, but it also pulled on my heart strings. It was clearly a message to me and with all of my mixed emotions I knew he was saying he still loved me, and I… still loved him. That night one of the guys forwarded [L] one of our silly selfies and captioned it “tequila makes you think of who?” without informing me until after he sent it. I went home immediately after having a full blown panic attack.

About 6am that morning I received a call from a “restricted number”. I’m the one that taught [L] that trick. I used to use it when he blocked my number when he was drunk and belligerent and I was worried. I answered, probably still a little drunk, and said “who the F*** is calling me at 6 in the F***ing morning” I was almost certain it was him and I knew it was about the picture, and I just wasn’t ready to deal with the emotions yet. I heard breathing and then the other side hung up. I texted him and said something along the lines of “if you’re going to risk jail and the restraining order by calling me you might as well make it worth your while and actually say something”. I realize now I never should have sent that text; but I was just so frustrated by being woken up, I had just gotten to sleep after my panic attack and deep down I was still very confused and missing him. I wanted to hear his voice. I wanted to hear that he still loved me and forgave me for sending him to jail.

Lets take a minute and ponder that for a second. I wanted HIM to forgive me for him going to jail AFTER HE was the one who BEAT ME. I’ll say it here and I’ll say it 1000 times again trauma bonds are a bitch. I truly still loved him with my entire being (minus one tooth).

He finally contacted me again later that day and we finally spoke. We drove and talked. He asked me if he really did it. He claimed he didn’t remember that night. I’m not sure if this is true or not,now I believe it was his way of not fully taking credit for his actions. He said he just needed to hear it from me to know it was the truth. I showed him the pictures; he had already seen them. I told him what happened, confirmed what he had already heard, and he just broke down sobbing. He said he was just going to end it. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t go to prison. He begged me to just let him die…. I said no.

I was mean, I was cruel even. I told him if he killed himself I would not come to his funeral (not that his family would let me anyways–although he did beg his mother to let me attend his funeral in one of his phone calls from jail). I told him I wouldn’t write his eulogy (he was there when I wrote my grandmothers earlier in the year) so this had significance to him. I told him I would never visit his grave. I would never mourn him. I would burn everything of his, of ours, all of the memories and be done with it.

I made him promise to never do that to me, to never attempt suicide again, I couldn’t handle that and finally he did. I would have his death on my concious and he knew that. Justified or not it would feel the same.

** I have lost loved ones to suicide, I do not blame them I do not believe it is a selfish act and I resent those who say so. This is not at all a reflection of my beliefs on suicide, at this moment I was soooo angry and so tired of his constant threats as a way to control me that I just snapped. I am not proud of this argument but I feel like I should be as candid as possible.**