I know you see how hard I am struggling to support myself and my three children. I’m working full-time despite my crippling pain. I know you see I need help. I do need help, but why him?
How could you tell me that it is your “wish” and your “dream” that I go back to the abuser?
How could you belittle the hundreds of punches, kicks, pulled hair, back-hands, and being bashed over the head as “a mistake.” How can you think two decades of daily physical, mental and sexual violence is “not that bad?”
What about the, “You’re stupids,” “You’re fats,” “You’re so ugly, nobody else will ever love yous,” “You f-ed up, agains,” and the, “It’s all your faults,?” What about the, “You are a dirty whores?”
Worse, how could you think it was simply “an error” that he made things up that I did wrong, and then, put me in the hospital after punishing me for them in front of my children.
How can you say that he “learned his lesson” when he has not stopped harassing me, you, my sisters, my friends or my children for one day since I left him three years ago.
And when I was with him, how could you not come over and stop him? How could you have let me stay there so long in the first place? You saw the injuries. You saw what he did. How could you have turned a blind eye? How could you be the evidence that gave truth to his, “You are nothings,” “You are unlovables,” and his “nobody cares.”
You say you love me, and I know you believe and feel that you do. You think that you are asking me to go back in my best interest, but how could you not see that your actions tell me the opposite? I’m so confused.
You are scared for me to be alone. Your heart breaks to see me struggle. But, I need you to be amazed by how good I am doing despite my challenges.
I need you to tell me that I am brave and strong. I need you to hold me and tell me that it will be OK, that you are here if I want to talk and let it all out.
I need to let it all out. I need you to believe me and accept me as I am. I want you to say how proud you are that I left and that I must never go back.
You may not even know this, but you are also scared of him. Just like I was. But I would have never turned him onto my children to get respite for myself. I would rather die by his hand than see him hurt one of my children. In fact, this is the only reason I am alive.
How could a parent advocate for me to go get more abuse? Allow him to kill me? Because he would eventually.
How could you sacrifice me to satisfy your anxiety? How can you continue to defend him and allow him to use you as one of his tools to get to me?
Dad, you wanting me “to go back” makes me feel absolutely invisible. I wish I could fade away.
I’m too tired to even tell you. I’m in so much pain, I can barely stand up. My cumulative abuse injuries have created pain I’d almost rather die than endure each day. But, I go on. For my kids. For you.
How could you act as if convincing me to go back would be your redemption?
I want to please you. I want to say yes for you, but really wish you could say no for me.
Daddy, I need you.
How could you not accept me as I am?
For more information on N’s Story, please visit Jody Aman’s Page