#her tantrums for months again three times was enough at least it wont be in a lockdown this time

[nerdie-faerie]

If my mum is going to be passive aggressive about my breaks every time I travel home from uni, it's gonna be a long couple of years

[thea-dacity]

I had to make a separate tumblr for this because my roommates follow me on all my social media, and I cannot make this post there because my roommate will see it, and I cant fudge the details enough that she wont know it's about her. But I need somewhere to vent because if i dont i will explode, even if my usual support group wont be there to help.

4 years ago, my girlfriend and I decided that we were going to live together with another couple in a rental home and split the rent 4 ways. Rent in our area is stupidly high, and I was struggling to make rent, so this seemed like a good deal for all of us.

Lots of details here are not important because if I nailed it to the church door like I want to it would take weeks.

For the first year, we were doing really well. All four of us had jobs, even if the pay wasnt stellar. But between the four of us, paying all our expenses was easy and I was even starting to save.

Then. Roommate A lost her job. Its alright. People lose jobs. It happens.

Then. COVID. Which was not alright, and I think that while it's not the root of all our problems it was definitely a contributing factor.

I want to talk about A for a minute. A suffered a lot of emotional abuse from her mother growing up. She goes to therapy for it, she's taking medications, we're to believe that shes working through her problems at some kind of pace. I'm being pretty understanding that recovery ain't a straight line. Plus, we've met her mother and her mom is absolutely a bitch.

She's very jealous that the rest of us have parents that arent narcissists and abusers, but it's not like we dont all have our own host's of problems (whole house is a concoction of adhd, autism, anxiety, depression, and eating disorders).

Every year, A will throw some kind of tantrum. The first time, it was because I said something about how I felt shoved in a corner. Me, my girlfriend, and Roommate B (A's partner) all shared an office together.

A's former remote job required her to have privacy, so it was agreed that she would get an office to herself. But B's job also required privacy, she they got the nook that we were using as our craft room, and we just agreed to be conscious of her privacy during work hours.

This didnt last very long. I couldnt use my computer to play music very loud and my girlfriend couldn't use the space to sew. And I felt, as I said, shoved in a corner.

So I asked in our house chat if we could reconfigure the working scenario because I felt like I wasnt... given proper space to work.

Didnt even mention A, but A went on a tirade about it- wrote up a whole screed about how she was the bad guy and then locked herself in the office (remember, at this time she was not working from there) and didnt talk to us for three days.

We worked out a solution where B works from the closet of their bedroom in a makeshift cubicle, the nook goes to me and Girlfriend, and A gets the office to herself... for some reason. Eventually this turned into their game room.

But it kind of set the tone that at least once a year this 40 year old throws a hissy fit about something and then doesnt apologize.

Again. I'm trying to be understanding of her situation, but there are days where I have to walk on eggshells.

Well... it's that time again.

Rough update of the events preceeding:

I quit my toxic job awhile back and started a new career as a photographer, which requires a lot of equipment. This job does not make a lot of money and theres a few months where I have to find extra work just to make ends meet.

Girlfriend lost her job and has been deeply depressed, and money issues mean that we are privately going through a rough patch during the slow season. My emotion s are... kind of haywire right now and I'm trying to make it work, but it's hard.

B got a promotion, enough that they can afford a starter home, possibly. They're trying, anyways.

A only leaves the house for doctor's appointments and house showings. She hurt her back some years ago and she hasnt been able to find a job.

After failing to find either a house to buy or an apartment to rent, girlfriend and I decided to stay in the current place. A and B are trying (and failing) to find a house of their own because the market is... very tight right now.

A cant contribute to the move monetarily and has anxiety about not being ready to move when the time co.es (even if it takes a whole month to close on a house.) She started packing in February. Its May, now, and no sign of any move to come, but the amount of boxes in our house would make you think they're moving out tomorrow.

So my stuff is crammed in the craft room (because she asked me to move my stuff out of the garage so she could use the garage as an exercise room, which never happened) a d there's boxes everywhere, making it difficult to get to my stuff to organize it. And she wont put her stuff in the garage because 'theres mice in there' even if her solution to my stuff is to put it in the garage. Its frustrating to live in a place where you cant use the furniture because its covered in boxes.

But let me back up a little because today's tantrum has details.

Last October, I accidentally backed into Bs car. Damage was a crack in the bumper, which I didn't think was a big deal, I offered to pay for it, but B went through insurance instead, which meant I almost lost my insurance. But they didnt pay for any of it, and it was a minor inconvenience- and in any case it was between the two of us, no hard feelings.

B asked if, in the future, I could park on the street, because their car is newer than mine and not as sturdy as my older car, to prevent any future mishaps. I decided this was fair.

Now I think we're up to speed.

My car had a coolant leak this past week and the car overheated. I took it to a mechanic to take care of, but it took a few days and they got me a rental so I could still do my job. And today was the last day of me having it.

B was at the office today, so their parking spot in the driveway was empty. My task today was to return the photo equipment to our main office and since the bags are heavy I decided to park in the driveway just so I could get my stuff in.

I realized as it was sitting there that the grill of the car kind of made a funny face, so I snapped a pic of it and shared it on tumblr before driving off.

So because A follows me on tumblr, she saw the pic and had something to say about it:

"Please dont park next to me. You backed into (B's) car and we just got it fixed."

There's like 3 feet clearance between our cars. I was only there for half an hour. In fact, I was away from the house when she put that in the house chat and didnt respond right away. Girlfriend actually came to my defense first.

"there's no call for that. 1) his implies that (tgea) makes a habit of driving recklessly, which is untrue and 2) the rental is in the driveway to make sure IT doesn't get damaged 3) why is (thea) not allowed to uise the #!%^$% driveway"

And B offered to park behind her car, which was not the point, since my car wasnt parked there anymore. The problem is that B always wants to negotiate and see both sides of a problem, but sometimes one side is simply being unreasonable.

And it really is just fucking ridiculous- I pay rent here, I should be able to park in my drive way for 30 minutes without scrutiny.

Girlfriend told her off in person as well, that she was being fucking ridiculous. I dont know what all she said, but A hasnt talked to me since getting back from the mechanic.

Since moving in here, I never really got the sense that this I was welcome. Like... yeah I live here, but this is A's house, not mine. I'm a tool to be used so she doesnt have to pay rent or cook dinner. Like... I've got my own mental issues, you know? I have self worth problems that this is feeding and I feel like I'm a pest that does inconvenient things like make messes and thats why I'm only allowed in our bedroom, our office nook, and the garage. Like that's why she keeps putting my stuff in the garage- I'm like one of the mice.

These tantrums dont happen on their own, usually. What typically happens is shes in a bad mood because she was eavesdropping on a conversation where i said something she didnt like and is looking for a reason to be mad.

And the only thing that I can think of is that this morning I had a conversation with B about how we had a lot of duplicate items in the cupboard and I was trying to plan meals around the things we have excess of, one of which was an ingredient that only she uses, typically. And that food is expensive and we should try to budget a bit more carefully. Which doesnt seem like the kind of thing that someone might get vindictive about, but guilt does weird shit to your brain.

Unless, of course, she was somehow listening in on the conversation I had with Girlfriend about how I need to put my foot down about food expenses and say that I shouldn't be paying for their convenience foods (premade salads, frozen burritos, bolthouse drinks) or her bougie food choices (pepperidge farm bread, Annie's mac n cheese, brown eggs only, cant buy store brand anything) because when I'm working I rarely eat any of the food that comes in the house.

The walls here are thin, sometimes I hear them arguing. But we keep our voices down, and if the comments I made in my own room, which is one of the FEW places I have to myself, made her mad- then she should have said something about that instead of forbidding me from parking three feet away from her precious Kia that she never drives, in my OWN FUCKING DRIVEWAY of my OWN FUCKING HOUSE.

I'm trying not to go crazy here, but shes making it very hard, and I feel like vermin. Vermin that pays half the rent and makes all her food.

Anyway, I feel a little better having talked about it, but after that I dont know what to do because if I bring it up that she was being unreasonable, then she'll find something else to treat me like shit over and we get back to the eggshell cycle.

I want to block her on tumblr so I can even talk about it where my friends are, but if I do that and she figures out that I blocked her it's going to make this house absolute hell.

I'm literally screaming inside.

[barnesandrogersfanfics]

Saving Grace - Part 6

Summary: Steve leaves you and your son to go back to Peggy unaware your pregnant.

Your heartbroken and struggling without Steve until Bucky Barnes steps up to help you out. With you and Bucky growing closer everyday will he be your saving Grace?

A/N- This part is really just a filler 💜

When i woke up the next morning i was cuddled up against Bucky's chest, he was propped up watching the TV with Harrison curled against his other side, i looked up and smiled instantly.

"Morning"

"Morning doll" he smiled running his hand gently over my head "we're just watching cartoons"

"Funtimes" i chuckled before reluctantly getting up.

"Where you going??"

"I really need to pee and I'm starving" i told him before waddling slightly to the bathroom.

"I'll go down and start breakfast" Bucky called from the other side of the door.

"Thank you, i'll be right down".

Walking into the kitchen Bucky had already set Harrison up at the table with some toast.

"Hey buddy" i kissed the top of Harrisons head as i passed him, i walked over to Bucky who was cooking bacon and gave him a quick kiss.

"Hi" i smiled up at him wrapping my arms around his waist.

"Hi beautiful" He beamed pulling me closer to give me another kiss.

"I could get used to this"

"Me too".

My phone starting vibrating on the table making me groan "who the hell sends messages this early?" I moaned walking over to check it.

"Its 10:15 doll its not that early" Bucky chuckled.

"Its still too early!" I laughed.... a laugh that stopped as soon as i saw who had been texting me. Steve.

Steve: Hey its Steve.

Steve: I think we need to talk.

Y/N: I have nothing to say to you

Steve: I want to see my son Y/N

Y/N: Bit late for that don't you think?

Y/N: He wont know who you are, just stay away.

"Fucking asshole" i muttered throwing the phone down suddenly full of anger.

"Doll? Whats wrong?" Bucky asked looking concerned.

"He wants to see Harrison! Can you believe that??!!" I said pacing in the living room the rage bubbling within.

"Who? Steve?"

"Yeah! I mean Harrison wont even know who he is looking the way he does now!! He made the choice to leave and now.... what? he wants to have a relationship with his son??"

"You don't need to agree to anything.... just try to calm down. Its not good for the baby"

The phone went off again and i snatched it up to read his reply.

Steve: I have rights! Im his father!

Y/N: Fuck you Steve! You gave up any right to call him your son when you decided to leave us for Peggy! LEAVE US ALONE! Thats what your good at right? Im blocking this number don't try to contact us again.

After hitting send i blocked his number and turned off my phone.

Bucky instantly pulled me into his arms and just held me close "i can talk to him if you want me to"

"You don't need to Buck, his still your best friend"

"I haven't spoken to him since that day he left..... Sam's my best friend now, i thought he told you that?" He smirked.

"How much of that conversation did you hear that day?" I laughed shaking my head.

"Enough" he shrugged casually "i can't help it, i have good hearing remember"

"Rightttt".

"So about Steve?....."

"Lets just leave it for now, maybe he'll do us all a favour and drop it".

"I doubt it but okay, i'll follow your lead on this"

"Thanks Buck, are you okay watching Harrison while i go shower?"

"Of course" he kissed me quickly "i'll save you some bacon".

"What would i do without you".

The weeks were flying by, all had been quiet from Steve after i blocked his number. He hadn't tried contacting us through the others and he stayed away from the compound, looks like he finally took the hint!

It was a Friday night and Harrison, Bucky and I were at the Tower for movie night with Sam, Wanda and Clint.

I had just entered my 8 month of pregnancy and felt like the size of a house! Movie night was an excuse for the team helping with Harrison and waiting on me, they didn't think i knew but i had caught on quickly and wasn't about to argue. Halfway through the movie Sam got a call, when he came back in he told us that Ross wanted him and Bucky for a mission.

"Seriously?? Why?" Bucky whined reminding me of Harrison when he would throw a tantrum.

"I don't know Buck they wouldn't say over the phone"

"One minute the guy doesn't want us involved in this stuff and now his calling us in this late on a Friday??"

"Lets just get this over with"

"God damn it" he huffed "i dont want you being alone while im gone..... your getting close to the end now what if something happens?" He turned to me.

"Bucky Ive still got 4 weeks.... at least, its fine. If it makes you feel better i'll stay here with Wanda and Clint until you get back".

"Yeah okay" he nodded "but you'll call me if anything happens?"

"Of course, be careful! Both of you!".

"Of course. Come on then lets get this over with" Bucky got up gave Harrison a kiss on the head and gave me a quick peck on the lips before storming off. I sat wide eyed, surprised that he had kissed me in front of the others.... he did it all the time at home now so i suppose it was just a natural thing for him to do.

"When did that happen?" Clint asked smirking at me, Wanda just sat smiling.

"Erm.... things changed after he came to my doctors appointment with me" i blushed "we're taking it slow though, i want to wait til after i have the baby"

"I called it" Clint said smugly "just saying"

"You called what?"

"You and Bucky of course. Your good for each other, i think its great sweetheart"

"You deserve to be happy Y/N, if Bucky makes you happy thats great" Wanda said taking hold of my hand.

"Thanks guys" i smiled "and he does. He makes me so happy, when I'm with him i almost forget about.... his been my saving grace"

"The man adores you and Harrison"

"I know. His so good with Harrison, watching them together just melts my heart" i admitted with a smile "Harrison loves him so much"

"I don't think Harrison is alone in that" Clint chuckled, i tossed a cushion at him that hit him clean in the side of the face.

"Shut up and watch the movie".

"Wanda!!" I yelled trying to make my way to her room holding a hand against my stomach, she came rushing out of her room and run to my side.

"Y/N whats wrong??"

"I think the baby is coming!"

"But its too early!!"

"I know!!" I cried feeling myself start to panic.

"Okay deep breathes, i'll take you down to Dr Cho...."

"I cant leave Harrison alone, he'll be upset if he wakes up alone...."

"I'll tell Clint to go look after Harrison don't worry" she told me and i watched as a wisp of red floated down the hall way.

"I need to call Bucky...."

"Lets just get you sorted first".

It had been three days since Bucky and Sam left for their mission now and we still had no idea when they would be back. Wanda got me down to medical and located Dr Cho, it was soon confirmed that the baby was coming now! No false alarms this was it!

"But I'm not due yet..." i told her panicking.

"She's strong enough don't worry, shes ready. Wanda are you staying for this?"

"Yes" she nodded quickly taking hold of my hand giving me a smile.

"Can you try and reach Bucky please?"

"I've already tried, theres no answer right now but i left him a message"

"Thank you"

"Okay lets get you set up, it wont be long now".

Taglist: @jennmurawski13 @kenzieam @captainchrisstan @s-t-r-i-k-e-us @lets--be-honest @ms-betsy-fangirl @damnaged-princess @farfromtommy @disneylovingal @lbuck121 @billweasleey

[banesbottombitch]

[Kicks open a door]

If AHS: Apocalypse is supposed to be set 2019~ish and revolve around the end of the times or in the very least, nuclear war, then how the actual fuck was Hotel’s (based in 2015) final moments set in the future where Scarlett Lowe is an older teen and the year is supposedly around 2022 if you check Marcy’s (the Real Estate agent from Murder House and Hotel) wikia page and read that as a ghost she has changed her personality over her time at the Cortez and by 2022 she had grown into a fairly evovled person.

If the Cortez is still standing and Bille Jean Howard is filming the same time as Scarlett is and older teen and Marcy’s character is developing over the years shes been inside the hotel, then it begs the question as to what the fuck kind of timeline the AHS world is dealing with.

Also- Michael’s aging is hardly linear if we agree that the body he is in as actually his own. Ryan even tweeted that he has his mothers hair and fathers eyes and it nails the description of the Michael we see on screen perfectly enough, so we can assume he is in his OWN body and not riding some random meat suit. In Murder House he came out of the womb at 5-6 months old as a full grown infant instead of a fetal mess which points to aggressive age progression in the very least- BUT, the season finale spaces three years ahead and he is shown to be an older toddler of about 3-4 years old physically.

It almost makes me wonder, if, in theory, he ages how he prefers to.

Hear me out;

A lot of scenes that involve Vivien and the twins she was carrying almost all revolve around Michael. He gives her nightmares about a clawed demon (which, good on him for showing his true colors ahead of time lmao) in her womb, a nurse has a mild heart attack after seeing Michael’s visage on the ultra sound, and as Viven is sitting on the tour bus for the Murder House tours she has a blot of spotting that lasts until she gets back to the house- showing that whatever is inside her is connected to the home and only feels safe once shes inside.

He kind of plays the game a bit too well. Pushing his birth giver to her limit, taking life from his twin, its mostly about his survival and what makes him comfortable. He is the catalyst for his mothers death, the hemorrhaging and early birth, the birth I’m sure he caused because he somehow knew and understood that the moment Vivien and the family left the house that he wont be returning to the Murder House ever again.

When we see the flash forward to three years, he is found by his grandmother Constance after he murdered and played in the blood of his caretaker. Before Constance finds him, she steps over and passes a jar of cookies, a box of popsicles and other treats. Treats a kid would want, things they would throw tantrums over and be upset if they weren't given. I’d take a pretty big step and argue that Michael kept himself at the age he was last seen as just so that he could get whatever he wanted from those around him without question.

Everyone wants to see a happy child, and Constance is no less eager to have her precious grandson beaming up at her and loving her. She would undoubtedly spoil him, as he would be her second chance at raising Tate, and this time, raising him right. She doesn't want her surrogate son to love her, and would supply to all his demands, and a cute little toddler is a good mold to use to pull and take what a demented little antichrist might like.

As for why he seems older now, I’d think that maybe there was an instance where Constance might have told him “No”. While im sure she would spoil him as much as she could, I’m sure there was a breaking point for her, a time where she was fed up with giving into everything he wants. The final foot being put down, that last straw that was to come. Maybe he had killed one too many nannies, or maybe she was tired of giving in to all his demands and wanted him to grow up a little- or, you know, maybe she was starting to realize “oh, well, thats right, I’m raising the literal Antichrist”.

From there I think he would have aged, or at least progressed enough to be an adult and have his own authority and to be in complete control without question.

Thats just a half assed theory though, but its all I can guess if the timeline is anything to go off of and why Michael Langdon is walking around looking like a twenty something who got lost in the vampire-romance section of barnes and noble.

[thursdaybennet]

Hello. My name is Thursday Bennet, and after many years of thinking about it, wishing I had a good enough idea, and wistfully watching from the sidelines, I just signed up for National Novel Writing Month (or its more clunky abbreviation, NaNoWriMo). Got some mood music going (Sabrina the movie soundtrack by the great John Williams, yes just the one song on repeat, why is that weird?) and I have some ideas I’m excited to play around with that came to me during a recent hospital stay. I’ve heard from various sources my whole life that creative types that struggle with mental health issues have a near magical ability to turn pain into art, even specifically that people with bipolar disorder (looking at you Vincent) have this amazing capability for creativity that they tap into. Never understood it myself, because whenever I was my most creative I was also usually manic with a nice dash of psychosis spread all over like dark chocolate sprinkles.

Psychosis is the ugly cousin down in the basement no one likes to talk about when it comes to discussing mental health issues, at least I know it’s not one I’m dying to discuss. Depression and Anxiety? Come right this way, we have a VIP table waiting for you with your millions of sufferers, and feel free to talk about it openly for the most part now because it has (thankfully) become a lot more acceptable to struggle with either or both. Though the second someone suffering with either of these does something even remotely unseemly, be prepared for the backlash and dismissive attitude that follows. “Well what can you expect, she has mental health issues” they whisper to each other. Or even worse in my opinion, it has gotten to the point where certain personality types use a diagnosis as a crutch, a shield to ward off personal responsibility for themselves and their behavior. “You expect me to get a job and contribute to the household Mom? How dare you, I have mental health issues that I wont discuss with anyone or seek treatment for, but will absolutely use to get out of doing my fair share.” Neither of these scenarios are good, and unfortunately the stereotypes surrounding them harm the ones who really are struggling the most. But as far as stigma goes I feel like we have come such a long way. With people I am getting to know and testing the waters with so to speak, I will absolutely say I have depression and anxiety (which is technically correct) rather than be fully open and say that I have bipolar disorder. Call me a coward if you like, you would also be technically correct.

Segueing back to the ugly cousin down in the basement though, Psychosis. That’s a frightening word no one wants to talk about. At least I know I don’t. To discuss it means admitting that I have at times touch with reality, and it feels like something to be ashamed of. I have during the course of one manic episode and subsequent hospitalization regressed to a childlike mentality and legitimately thought I was Alice lost in Wonderland. I had a nasty temper and threw tantrums when I didn’t get my way (tried to take the entire box of crayons back to my room when they were meant to be shared amongst the other patients) that rivaled the Red Queen herself. When I calmed down and was more myself I was mortified! I would never act like even when I was a child, I’ve always been told tantrums were rare when I was young.

More recently my episode and hospitalization took a darker turn, but also an extremely interesting one. I definitely did not regress, I was 100% a grown woman, but that brought other baggage. I thought that I was Katniss Everdeen, Juliette Ferrars, and Queen Elizabeth I all rolled into one. I thought I was, not exactly Mother Earth, but definitely one of her goddesses walking the earth and appreciating the beauty in life. I saw the geometry and the numbers in creation, the angles and brushstrokes of even just weeds and dandelions. Instead of just ugly browns I saw shades of plum and mauve in the dried up leaves on the ground. I tried to embrace the chaos that is life by rolling random objects in my hands, throwing them like they were dice and then looking for patterns and shapes. Basically....I turned in Tia Dalma from Pirates of the Caribbean but with much better teeth and without the sweet accent.

I’ll admit at this point that I have forgotten what my point to all that was, other than to get it off my chest. It feels good, even though in doing so I feel the uncomfortable tingle of being overly exposed trickling down my spine and the cold shoulder of stigma breathing down my neck. I’m only 32 years old, and my current living situation is one that by most standards would seem fairly unencumbered. I have so much I want to do, and you would think that as a married, childless, currently unemployed woman I should be able to achieve them right? Yet I often feel unfairly weighed down both by the challenges my disorder brings just trying to go about my day, and the often heavier weight of the stigma of the diagnosis itself.

I guess to return to what I said about NaNoWriMo, I’m trying to take some agency back for myself. Yeah I recently had an episode, the first in a fairly stable three years. Yes, along with the mania I also experienced psychosis, meaning I lost pieces of who I was and what was real, but that doesn’t have to define me forever as its already run its course and I’m back in good ol’ reality. And yes, I absolutely can take some power back by turning what I experienced into something beautiful, rather than something ugly and shameful. So stay tuned for snippets of stories and little nuggets of ideas, as I try to bring some order to the chaos once again. I’m not sure yet if I’ll be writing a novel based on my experiences or a completely fictional story plucked from one of many that I found myself experiencing on some level during my brief hospitalization. But either way, its about to get weird so grab some popcorn and buckle in, my little coffee cakes. I’ll try not to shock your delicious crumble topping right off your heads.

By the way, in case you hadn’t read between the lines, this is my first time posting about my disorder. And while it feels as thrilling as it is somewhat dangerous, I don’t want it to define me. I just want to stop pretending to be normal every day, because it is unbelievably exhausting. I would rather just be myself, Thursday, someone who likes to write, loves her family and her dog, and when she’s not chilling playing her favorite video games, likes to create art. That’s me, and that’s what you’ll get if you stick around.

We-ell....the Sabrina theme doesn’t pop up for me when I search for it so enjoy some Lindsey Stirling I accidentally added, the pathos of which really doesn’t match the tone of my post lol. (Unless you listen to it while reading about my hospital stays, in which case it is almost too on the nose.)

Here you go, this should go down a little easier and goes with what I hope was an overall optimistic and hopeful journal entry. Enjoy.

[searching4paradise23]

July 10,2020

Sorry I never finished elaborating on my ex boyfriend, but now I;m forced to give a bit of a summary because this story pertains to him. 

     We met at a party but didn’t start talking until months later when me and my then husband decided to go our separate ways. First two months were awesome, even took me to six flags and booked a pretty luxurious hotel for us during fourth of July weekend and it basically was the best time ever. A week after that weekend, we went out of a friend’s birthday and since no one knew we were dating, he got extremely upset that I was going around our group of friends and talking to everyone as to not show favoritism. This led to him having a meltdown where he tried to drag me out of the club to go home. Later he called stating he got out of an uber and was thinking of jumping off the highway bridge. Fast forward a bit into that night where he ended up hospitalized and when I went in to see him, he said he had zero respect for me and that everything that happened was my fault and topped it off by spitting on me. Later on throughout the relationship (yes I stayed, I know) things were pretty chill except I would get the occasional comment about why don’t I dress differently or “If you don’t do this for me, then I’ll call my other girlfriend to do it” type of comments. Those always left me feeling terrible about myself to the point that I contemplated suicide one day because I felt as I can never make a relationship work. One day after about six months in, I found out that he was snooping through my phone to see if I was texting anyone or looking for a way out of the relationship. This prompted me to snoop and I found out he was talking to some girl for about three months. This led to a huge argument and I was trying to kick him out of the house but somehow he talked me into not breaking up. This phase didn’t last long because he started making more and more comments about my appearance or my actions, specially calling me a terrible mother. One day back in March, he started to openly speak ill in regards to the father of my child and I fought back because NOBODY speaks ill about the father of my child. SPECIALLY after her dad was soo accommodating when it came to shifting our visitation schedules due to emergencies or trips he always suggested. That night ended with him putting a loaded gun to his head in my closet and me having to talk him out of doing anything, then me taking apart the gun and hiding pieces around my house. All of this happened while my then 2 year old was asleep in her room. Safe to say, a restraining order came into play and well I thought that was it.

WRONG!!!!!!!!!!

   My dumbass texted him a month into the restraining order because I was having an issue with my car tires and I wanted to see if he remembered which ones I recently bought. One thing led to another and we were hanging out in secret. A ton of emotions flooded me because I was feeling so good while we were separated and I though I was grown enough to handle bullshit and help him out. The arguing started up again, this time it was more like on a weekly basis and I do have to take responsibility because most of the shit started because I though I still cared for him romantically but I actually didn’t so I kept kinda breaking his heart until he legit broke. After me explaining and apologizing time and time again and stating that I think it’s better if we just never talk to each other, the switch in his brain got set to revenge. He wanted me to feel as shitty as he did so he would threaten me saying that he would tell m kid’s dad that him and I are talking so that way my ex could take full custody. He would force me to hang out when I really didn’t want to and would throw a huge fit when I said I didn’t want to be intimate.  

      Point is, we kept going back and forth being nice and cordial to him throwing a tantrum because I wouldn’t act as I was in love with him. But July 10th....went to a different level...

      The plan for that day was that I was to go to his place to eat, play the switch, shave some body hair in prep for our massages the next day, and just take it easy. I knew something bad was going to happen the minute I walked in because he forcefully grabbed me and kissed me. After that awkward entrance, I pretended to act as if it didn’t bother me and we talked about our work life. We ordered food and were about to go and pick it up when he said he heard a rumor that I was sleeping around with my coworkers and said “you can say whatever you want about what I heard, I wont believe you.” So please, anyone tell me, how would you react if you hear such accusations and then are told that whatever you say it’s a lie. So I got upset and said that those rumors are false and I can’t believe he would say that out of nowhere and assume it was true. So in true me fashion I tried to keep quiet as to not make matters worse. We got n the car to go pick up food and he was purposefully driving like a maniac to scare me. He wouldn’t listen to anything I had to say and while he was getting angrier he kept saying it was all MY fault. I didn’t want to stay quiet after hearing that and that was when he lost complete control.

      We were five minutes away from his apartment and he’s still yelling at me and out of nowhere, he punched me straight on my jaw. Immediately I froze and started to tear up. I never thought I could break someone to this point. All I could think of was of him saying how much he loved me but yet he straight up punched me in the face. Keep in mind, I’m 5′1 and 130 pounds, hes 5′10 and about 185 who lifts a decent amount so that punch was rough. We pulled up to the parking lot and he kept yelling and I didn’t want to cause a scene so I said lets just go inside and started to get out of the car when he grabbed my arm and dragged me back into the car, hitting my head on the car on the way in. I was scared at this point. I had to make a choice, either I stay quiet and not do anything and just see what happens, or do I try and fight back in some way shape or form the next time he goes for a hit just in case it escalates to the point where a coroner is in there determining time of death, they can at least say I died fighting for my life. So we’re inside eating and I’m not eating as much because my face hurts from getting punched and it hurt to chew. To be 100% honest, I don’t remember exactly what our exchange of words were. It might have been something along the lines of me saying that I don’t ever want to be in a relationship with him and that I do not love him , but that was enough for him to slap me..repeatedly. Then I kept saying how I wanted to just leave before things got worse, so he hid my car keys and my phone. This made me mad so I repeated my statement on how I don’t love him and I would rather be at home. That is when he first started to choke me....

     I always knew that strangling someone takes a ton of time and effort so its usually committed by a very passionate person. He was feeling extremely passionate that day because I have never feared for my life before. I can still remember the feeling of him grabbing my throat and squeezing until I could barely move. Obviously, I freaked and started asking why tf would he do this if he claims to love me. His reason is because I’ve hurt him so many times and he couldn’t contain his anger anymore so he wanted to take it out. After that answer, I knew I needed to leave so I walked out and tried to get away as fast as possible but I wasn’t successful and he got me back. I was so scared and mentally prepared to fight back that at one point I said I started feeling repulsed by him after the last time I stayed the night and I said I didn’t want to have ex, yet as I was falling asleep, he grabbed me and decided he would take care of his business anyways. Yup....so because I called him out on it, ie called him a rapist, that led to another, longer rampage. This time started by him cutting up my sweatshirt, then he pushed me on the bed and was commanding me to get him ready for sex. Since I refused, he grabbed me, pushed and pulled me against the walls and when I eventually landed on the floor, he climbed on me and started choking me again. This time harder and longer. and when he let me go, the first thing I said was “now your a rapist and a woman beater, good job expanding your resume”. He then grabbed some scissors, cut up my shirt, then stepped on my abdomen instead of stepping around me, oh yeah then he wanted to show me what a “real rapist” would do. We wrestled and he managed to pull my pants down to my ankles, he then grabbed by underwear and ripped it off of me. He was clearly doing everything as a power move so I knew he wasn’t going to try and penetrate me, but I was wrong. Instead he let his hands do the work. I was mortified. 

      He then tossed me back on his bed and I desperately tried to cover myself so I didn’t feel so exposed. Instead he pinned me down, spread my shirt wide open and talked about how disgusting I am. Again, this is coming from someone who “loves me”. He kinda calmed down after that but I kept demanding for my stuff so I could just leave and so things wouldn’t continue to escalate. But that wasn’t the case. I noticed that he choked me so hard that I was bruising. All  could say to myself at that moment was that I need to fight, I need to yell, I need to run or else next time it just won’t be a bruise. I tried to manged to thread a lil lighter, but still demand that I would be let out because this was excessive. He then would push me into the bath tub and turn the water on and demanded I’d shower under his supervision. I stood my ground and said no until he left me alone for a few seconds. I could tell he was exhausted but was still upset and all I wanted was to find my car keys and go home. Point it, similar events repeated, mostly it was more grabbing and throwing and slapping. At one point he was begging me to hit him, and I refused. After a couple of attempts to grab a phone and lock myself in a bathroom failed, he choked me again and said next time, he would grab a knife. After some negotiation, he let me go into a bathroom to pee and i locked the doors against his wishes. He broke into one of the doors with a knife in his hand. I was petrified and told myself that I had to make a run for it. He was sitting there and I said I would take a shower in that bathroom, but i needed my toiletry bag. He didn’t follow me out so I casually grabbed my wallet (since its all I could find) and ran out the door as fast as I could. I didn’t go too far because I figured he would find me if I was walking the streets, so i hid behind a stairwell. After I stood there for about 10 minutes, I knew I had to find a way to contact someone. I was too afraid to go knocking on random people’s doors because we’ve all heard stories about people who pretend theyre hurt and then rob you. Instead I sat on the stairs on the second floor until a female tenant walked out and asked if I was okay. I told her I was hiding from someone and she kindly let me in and helped me calm down and bandaged a couple of wounds I didn’t know I had. We talked for a good 30 minutes or so until I decided to call my own phone to be able to get my stuff back. She said I could go,and gave me a taser on my way out.

     Once I went back to his place, he was completely enraged because he had been looking everywhere for me and I just demanded to get my stuff back. He refused and I was so sick of everything that the minute he turned his back to me, i tased him and he barely reacted....that scared me soo much because I knew he could easily over power me and take it. Which he did. He tased my arm and my neck....

I think that was the last of the physical abuse. We calmed down enough to where he gave my stuff back and I went home to try and feel safer.