SHE WARNED ME, BUT I THOUGHT I WAS DIFFERENT

I grew up watching abuse, never realizing that one day, I would find myself living through the same nightmare.

Parents, we do know what’s going on in the home.

We do know that our daddies or your new boyfriend is whooping your ass. We know that. And what you fail to realize as a parent is that you’re not protecting us as well.

We see it. We hear it. We know what’s happening.

And what you don’t realize is that we grow up learning that this is what love looks like.

As a young girl trying to find love, my daddy wasn’t around because he was in jail. My mother got around, and it didn’t matter what relationship she got into, these men were abusive.

I grew up seeing different men coming in and out of the house. I saw the abuse. I saw the bruises. I heard the arguments.

And somehow, I grew up thinking that was normal.

Fast-forward to my own situation.

I got involved with a man we’re going to call “Charlie.”

“Charlie” was older. He had several kids by several different baby mamas. He would drink, smoke, party, and participate in street activities.

But because I didn’t have any kids, I thought I was better.

I thought I was different.

I thought the way he showed me that he loved me was actually love.

And here’s the part that gets me.

I WAS WARNED.

One of his baby mamas reached out to me and told me that “Charlie” was abusive.

She told me, “You’re gonna be next.”

And she warned me that this time, he might take it to the pits of hell. He might actually kill me.

Because when a man starts choking you, they say the next step could be him taking your life.

But did I listen?

No!

Because in my mind, I was prettier. I was slimmer. I thought I had it going on.

I thought he would never do that to me.

I told myself, “This bitch is just jealous.”

And the whole time, SHE WAS RIGHT.

That man terrorized me for three months.

When I say he terrorized me, I mean he terrorized me.

I was tortured and traumatized for three months.

And some of the things that happened to me, I can’t even talk about because I can’t even think about them.

I just can’t!

Sometimes, I sit back and can’t believe that I allowed myself to stay in that situation.

And I know that as victims, we sometimes look back and question our own decisions, especially when the red flags were there.

Because the red flags were there.

His baby mama warned me.

She told me exactly what was coming.

But I thought I was different.

I thought because I was prettier, because I was slimmer, and because I didn’t have any kids, he would never treat me the way he treated her.

Until he did.

And when he put his hands on me for the first time, I was shocked.

When I say shocked, I mean SHOCKED!

Because in my mind, he would never.

Not me.

But he did.

And looking back, I realize that some of what I accepted came from the trauma I experienced growing up.

Watching my mother go through abusive relationships. Watching different men come in and out of our home. Watching her make excuses and lie for the men who were hurting her.

As a child, you don’t always understand what’s happening.

You just know what you see.

And when that’s what you see over and over again, you begin to believe that’s what love is supposed to look like.

Until one day, you find yourself in the same situation.

And you realize…

THIS IS NOT LOVE.

There are two things I want people to take away from my story.

FIRST, TO THE PARENTS: YOUR CHILDREN KNOW.

Parents, your kids know what you’re going through.

We see the bruises.

We hear the arguments.

We hear the fighting.

We know.

And every time you lie for that man, every time you make excuses for him, every time you allow him to come back after hurting you, you’re showing us what you think love looks like.

And because we’re children, we grow up thinking that’s what love is supposed to look like, too.

You may think you’re hiding it from us, but you’re not.

We see more than you think.

And sometimes, what we see follows us into adulthood.

SECOND, TO THE WOMEN: DON’T IGNORE THE WARNING.

Yes, we know some women can be jealous.

Some women can be envious.

And yes, some women don’t want you to be with their baby daddy.

But if a woman comes to you and tells you that she’s grateful you took that man off her hands…

TAKE HEED.

Because you don’t know what’s coming down the pipeline.

And never think that just because he did it to her, he would never do it to you.

Because he will.

I learned that the hard way.

I thought I was different.

I thought I was special.

I thought I was the one he would change for.

But I wasn’t.

I was just next.

And although I went through three months of torture and trauma, I can say one thing:

I’M STILL HERE.

Thankfully, I’m still here.

There are things I experienced that I’m not ready to talk about. Things that are still too painful to even think about.

But maybe one day, when I find the strength to talk about everything in depth, I’ll be able to come back and see if Ms. Kym will allow me to share another part of my story.

Because there’s so much more.

For now, I just want young ladies to keep their heads up and pay attention.

Don’t ignore the warning signs.

Don’t think you’re better than the woman who came before you.

And don’t ever believe that abuse is love just because that’s what you grew up seeing.

I saw abuse from an early age.

I grew up without my father being present.

I watched different men come in and out of my mother’s life.

And when I got into a relationship at a young age, it was with an older man who already had children.

I was looking for love.

But what I found was something that almost destroyed me.

And at this point in my life, I don’t even want kids.

Because I don’t want to be another statistic.

I don’t want another child growing up seeing what I saw.

I don’t want another little girl thinking that being hurt is part of being loved.

And most importantly, I don’t want another woman to have to go through what I went through just to understand that she deserves better.

She warned me.

But I thought I was different.

And I’m thankful I’m still here to tell my story.