Drunk and never there love

It was year after I had graduated my high school. I went to learn further. I was shy girl always I would sit alone by myself. People would give me weird stares and laugh at me. I was there sitting with my laptop and writing. Good god knows what but writing was always an escape for me. In a way it still is.
So it’s been like two month since I started my new school I got used to people staring and all the things. I knew I wouldn’t belong there ever. So I didn’t even try. One day there was this guy who came around asking if I had a cigarette and sure as hell I had plenty. So we went out and had a smoke. I kept siting there by myself. But he would come around again and again.. Then he would just sit next to me. I didn’t cared much. But then I had some girls saying that ‘Don’t give him smoke. Don’t do this. Don’t do that.’
I should’ve better listened to them. The 4month when we were sort of together was awful. I can’t believe I ever let myself go so low. His parents loved to drink. There were scandals all the time at their house. So we also went drinking. At first everything was okey more or less cause I didn’t bothered to think of how low I’ve skipped. But then I got tired. And he would still keep ask me for money and drink with his friends. He would get so drunk that I would have to look for him in cold winter night.
There was this one moment when he was so drunk and we all sort of was but when he’s drunk he’s terrible. He would just hit me, call me names push me against fridge or even worst. So he had went to get cigarettes but no one would give him so he had banged the window out. He wasn’t coming back for long time so we all got worried and looked for him. He was on the ground screaming some nonsense to old man holding him to the floor. So we had to get him out of there. But he wasn’t even able to stand on his feet. I was holding him pulling him just to get him home. But he kept pushing me screaming at me. And when I would let go he would start to attack me both physically and verbally. I would just cry at nights. But I couldn’t break it. I knew it was a mess but I also knew I had to be strong.
Well luckly for me we separated ways. Later he was put in jail for I don’t even know what. But I knew it would happen some day.
So girls, if he treats you less then you deserve.. just quit him. For yourself. For your future and even for your own life. I learned it the hard way
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#savingme is the column where abuse victims can publish their experiences just to let go and find comfort and support. Maybe it doesn’t feel like much but just publishing your story for others to read makes you strong. You can send your story about the abuse you went through to savingmestory@gmail.com and you can choose if you want it to be anonymous or not. More details here. 

#savingme Project

Guys, I noticed that the #savingme email inbox was still quite empty so I thought of giving it another shot. I know It’s weird that I am asking you to send in your abuse stories but I think they could be really helpful to you and to others. Maybe someone reads a story who is in a similar situation and it inspires him to try and say himself, get himself out of that situation and seek for help. Nobody is alone in this.

So please, please, please send your stories in or if you have a friend who has been through the devastating experience of abuse give him this link and ask him to join in. I think it’s important to speak up about matters like this and to let the world now that silence is not an option. The email is savingmestory@gmail.com and you can find more info by clicking here.

#savingme

« You.are.my.wife ». He shouted it. He was completely out of control. I was wondering whether he could arm me. I did not protect my face. I put my arms around my belly, feeling my child’s life inside me. I closed my eyes. And it was over.

His wife. Like I was a chair or a table. Like I was his property.

I was his prize. I was the one welcoming him with a smile and trying to be nice, always. The one cooking and cleaning and making his life easy. His nightmare some days. His terrible choice, other days.

In between. Only drama.

His breath and his eyes and his steps. I remember fearing the sound of his steps and the key, the door, opened and closed with a bang, the light switched on, even when he knew I was surely asleep at this time. And his body against mine. And his hands on me. And his breath again, full of cigarette and beer. And the same old marital, sexual duty.

At the beginning it was ok. Not wonderful but ok. Loads of promises. Love in the air. It did not last long. Not long enough for me to enjoy it. The first threat was just around the corner. Big mess, harsh words. He left. And he came back. And I apologize, out of nothing, for nothing. And it was nice again. And he proposed, kind of. And I didn’t say “yes” straight away. No way. So manipulation started. He would ignore me then say “he loves me”. He would be happy and then tell me “you are a slut, you’re nothing”. On and on and on. Till I said “yes”. Just to have peace. I believed maybe this would make him happier. And life would at last be a good one together.

It got worse. Nothing was never good enough. I was never good enough.

I was a mess. I was tired. I used to knock my head against the walls, wishing I could hurt myself more. I wanted somebody to see I could not cope anymore. I was becoming a ghost in my own body. I wanted somebody to take care of me. He said he would, if only I was good to him. But I was always making mistakes. I was always begging for forgiveness. So I could sleep again and have a “normal” life.

He never kicked me or slapped me. But his words and his look. His contempt. Him thinking he was better than anybody else. Him and his threats to kill me. Him and his will to control me. Him and his body against mine and his silence. He stole my money and 4 years of my life.

But he didn’t win.

I got away. One night. We didn’t talk at all for ten days. I remember hiding myself in the bathroom, crying under the water so he wouldn’t hear me. I would sleep on the sofa in the living room with my belly becoming bigger and bigger. My pregnancy saved me from a life of pain and violence. I took a one way flight, leaving everything behind.

It did not stop after that. But at least I was home. I was safe. It took me years to find myself again. My baby boy, my family, my friends helped me on the way up.

I believe talking about abuse, violence, is key. We need to share our stories. It can help. It can make a difference. Victims need to know they are not alone, need to understand that silence is a killer. We must raise our voices. We must tell them that a life is possible after hell. And that they are beautiful and deserve all the love in the world.

My name is Marie. I live in paris and write both in French and in English. You can read me (in english) onhttps://mahshiandmarshmallow.wordpress.com or (in French) on  https://latmospheriquemariekleber.wordpress.com/

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#savingme is the column where abuse victims can publish their experiences just to let go and find comfort and support. Maybe it doesn’t feel like much but just publishing your story for others to read makes you strong. You can send your story about the abuse you went through to savingmestory@gmail.com and you can choose if you want it to be anonymous or not. More details here. 

#savingme – GUEST POSTS WANTED!

Guys, guys, guys! Look what happened! Just look!

And I am going to use the first selfi I ever posted to Instagram to explain my reaction when I saw this. I can’t believe we came this far and I am so proud of us!

Now, you know what’s coming. Another project. More guest posts. More engagement. More sharing! For now we have the incredibly successful Poetry Bar which is still very much active, we have Positivity Press to keep us grateful and happy and now that we’ve hit 3000 followers we are going to have #savingme

You are probably wondering what #savingme is. In my post The story behind the name Luna I shared a part of my domestic abuse story with your because it was necessary in order to explain why I chose the name Luna. It was so incredibly hard for me to open publicly about my childhood and what my father put my family through but I felt so relieved. It gave me strength in a way and your comments just blew my mind. I felt so loved and so empowered in my work that I decided it’s time we all speak up and give support to each other.

#savingme is our new project, our new guest post column where all of you lovely people will be sending in your stories about abuse whether it be domestic abuse, rape, school bullying etc. When you send in your email you have the right to say if you want the post to be anonymous or if you want me to share your name and the link to your blog. The email to which you can send it is: savingmestory@gmail.com

I know it’s hard but writing it down, opening up let’s out all of the bad out of your heart, you feel less resentment and create a space in your heart that can be filled with love and supports from others at this community.

I really, really, really hope that we will bring this project to life and I just want to thank you all for this few months that have been amazing! I love you all so much and hope you have an amazing weekend.

Just to repeat again, send in your stories to savingmestory@gmail.com

Sending love and positive vibes,
Luna