L'abuso non è amore

How long would you last in an abusive relationship? Would you be able to leave the first time something happened, even though you would be leaving a man you loved? Could you learn to keep your mouth shut because you felt like you had to? Keep it in and keep quiet. I’ve dealt with the cruel and hateful words of a man. The words that make you feel two feet tall so much that you retreat into yourself.

Ho perso me stesso, I lost who I was. I’d been with my husband since I was 16. I had dated, but that was about all. I believed in OLD love, the kind where you found someone and that was who you gave yourself to – your other half. I wanted the forever love, but that’s not what I got. I got so much worse.

Quando mio marito è entrato nella mia vita, aveva trovato lavoro nello stesso posto in cui lavoravo io. In quel momento mi sono innamorata di lui. Sentivo di potergli dire qualsiasi cosa, lui capiva ed era sempre presente per me. Avevo 16 anni e pensavo di aver trovato l'amore della mia vita. Come ogni giovane coppia, avevamo sciocchi litigi e ci lasciavamo un giorno sì e l'altro no, ma riuscivamo sempre a tornare l'uno dall'altra.

Era un amore giovane, eravamo attaccati ai fianchi ed entrambi molto gelosi all'epoca, visto che frequentavamo scuole diverse e ci vedevamo solo a pranzo. In qualche modo, la nostra relazione riuscì a superare il liceo e io la scuola di estetica. Eravamo d'accordo che, una volta terminata la scuola di estetica, avremmo preso una casa tutta nostra. All'epoca avevo circa 19 anni.

Non molto tempo dopo abbiamo preso una casa nostra è diventato violento mentalmente e fisicamente. I wanted to be strong so at first when we’d argue I would always stand up for myself. He eventually didn’t like that. He already cussed me out and called me awful things, and I him, but the first day he hit me I wasn’t having it.

I stood up for myself and pushed back and that left me slammed into walls, doors, and flung off the bed. I still fought back, even when I wanted to give up. I wanted to be that strong woman who didn’t give up. I just didn’t understand why or how he could hurt me when he was supposed to love me. L'abuso non è amore.

Ho ricevuto tutte le mi dispiace-che-non-succeda-mai-un'altra volta lies and I believed him. I decided to stay with him. Not long after, we got engaged and decided to have our wedding three months later. All I cared about was my dress and marrying him, since things had gotten better. I was ready until I wasn’t.

While planning the wedding, the abuse started again, and it was so much worse than before. I decided I wanted to call off the wedding because I wasn’t going to be a battered wife, even though I already felt like one. I went to talk to my husband to tell him I was done. He didn’t take it well; he cussed me out and threw me around a bit and told me that if I cancelled the wedding he would stop helping me with our place that my mom had cosigned on. This would cause everything to fall on her shoulders if I wasn’t able to cover everything on my own again.

I was young and dumb and I felt like I was an adult and should be able to deal with my own problems. I didn’t want anyone to know what was going on. I should have told my mom. I would lie and cover my bruises when I knew she would have helped me. I still wasn’t going to let my mom take the fall for what I thought were my bad choices at the time. I lo amavo così tanto che ero accecata by it and stupidly believed him every time he apologized, and I married him. I didn’t know at the time it was going to ruin my life and I would be put through hell for years.

Volevo credere che le persone potessero cambiare, che lui sarebbe cambiato. Mi aggrappavo a quel briciolo di speranza che potesse cambiare e che saremmo stati bene perché lo amavo e avevo una certa stabilità con lui. Avevo paura di lasciarlo. Di stare da sola. Di sentirmi sola.

My vision was clouded. I wanted the marriage, the kids, and the career. I wanted it all, but slowly all my hopes and dreams were going out the window because I just didn’t care anymore. I was getting to that point of just giving up. When someone tears you apart for so long a big piece of you starts to believe the names you’re being called. He would tell me that no one would want me, and I believed him and never left. I put up with the pain and the abuse because of my own fears.

I recently left my abuser at 30 years old. It may have taken me a while but I know now I deserve more. That I am worth more. Yes, I am still scared of what the future may hold but I’m excited to find myself again. To be happy again.

Posso anche non volere una relazione in questo momento, ma so che c'è un uomo là fuori for me who will treat me the way I should have been treated all along. Someone who values me and shows me I am something special. Never give up hope as things tend to change, even if it’s not overnight. You can have the life you want and keep moving forward. Abuse is not love.

di Darby Genco