Overcoming an Abusive Relationship: A Journey of Self-Discovery and Resilience

I’m learning so much in this new chapter of self-discovery. The more I start to respect myself and well-being and embracing my self-worth, the less I am able to tolerate disrespect from others. Nor am I able to make excuses for the mistreatment of others. It’s a beautiful thing.

The first abusive relationship that I’ve ever been in started in my senior year of high school. We were neighbors who ended up dating. Both of our families had teens around the same age, and we all began to hang out. After finding out that he still had another girlfriend in the state that he and his family had just moved from, I decided to break it off. It didn’t take me long to shake it off, but there was one thing that would change the whole aspect of my life… I was pregnant.

Coming back to school from Winter Break, I was ready to put all distractions behind me and start preparing for college in the fall. I went to the Wellness Center to take a pregnancy test because my period was a little late. It wasn’t all that late, but I wanted to make sure. While waiting, I was talking to the nurse about what colleges I wanted to visit. They left and quickly came back in. He looked me in my eyes and said, “You’re pregnant.”

I was so shocked, and a little angry that the nurse told me the way that they did. Right away, they started talking about how I needed to take care of this before I got too pregnant because I had my whole life ahead of me. Growing up in a Christian household, I never believed that abortion was the right thing to go.

Then again, even having sex was a sin that I had already committed. I would often tell myself that I would never be a teen mom. And there I was, sitting in an office at my High School Wellness Center, pregnant and weighing my options.

It didn’t take long for them to call the “soon to be” dad down to the office. Before I knew it, he was on the phone with his parents telling them the news. I had no idea how I was going to tell my mom that I committed the ultimate sin and had a baby growing in my belly. Before I knew it, he was trying to persuade me that I should get an abortion. He just could not be a parent because he moved around a lot, and he didn’t know where he would go next.

I went back to the wellness center a few weeks later, and they were adamant that I had to make an appointment with Planned Parenthood soon. There was something in me that just knew that I wasn’t going to go through with it. He was angry when I told him. He screamed and yelled in my face. As scared as I was that I may do this alone, I knew that I couldn’t give this baby up.

About 6 weeks later, a few weeks after my 18th birthday, I told my mom. Before telling her, I tried to picture what my life would be like. For some reason, I just knew that she would kick me out, and I would be on my own for shaming the family. So, my plans were to find an apartment, work, and go to school. Sounds so simple, right?

One evening, my mom picked me up from my part-time job as a shampoo girl, that I worked a few times a week. I got in the car and my nerves were so bad that I felt like I was going to faint. I was already nauseous. I tried to remain calm, but I felt my body begin to shake. I said that there was something that I needed to tell her.

She calmly asked, “what?” I said, “I’m pregnant.” She had her hands tightly on the steering wheel. Instead of screaming at me and making me feel the shame that I already felt, she comforted me, showed grace, and let me know that everything was going to be ok. That gave me the strength that I needed for this long journey ahead.

I decided to try to make the relationship with the father of my unborn child work. We had nothing in common, and he didn’t seem to really want to be in a long, committed relationship, but we were about to be parents and I thought that would be important that he was in the child’s life.

Things were pretty good sometimes, but he had a temper like I’ve never seen before. He would get angry and scream at me. I’d never had someone talk to me that way, but the fear of going through this alone was enough to excuse the shame that I felt.

One day when I was about 8 months pregnant, I don’t even remember what had triggered him to curse me out. My mom came outside asking what was going on. He quickly went to his house, which was two doors down the street. My mom told me how unacceptable it was to let him talk to me like that. She then said, if you weren’t under this roof, he’d probably put his hands on you.

Fastforward to now, I haven’t seen him in about 13 years, and I wish I knew then what I do now. The trauma that I went through years before me, left me with a hole that couldn’t be filled. I didn’t believe that I was special enough to be loved, and I simply didn’t know my worth. It took me 4 years of going through physical and mental abuse to realize that there was more to life. On the bright side, my son is one of the best things that could’ve happened to me.

Once I started going to therapy, it was like a lightbulb went off. In order for me to figure out why my self-esteem was so shattered, I had to go to the very beginning of where it all began. This wasn’t my first abusive relationship. It started with my stepfather. I then realized that I didn’t have to deal with what I was. Not only was it destructive for me, but for my now, two little boys that we had together.

The morning of my 22nd birthday, I woke up and knew that things would be different. It was a new year for better things, and I wasn’t going to tolerate any more disrespect. That was the day that changed my path for the better. I knew that I didn’t have much, but I did have the support of my family. That day he left, and I prayed, “Lord, if you get him out of my life, I promise I won’t take him back.” God answered my prayer, and I didn’t look back.

If I could tell the young girl who believed that she was unlovable and thought, she had to tolerate disgusting behavior is: