Epitome of Strength and Endurance
Daily Danjaruz Deliberation:
See, when I get the strength to leave
You always tell me that you need me
And I'm weak cause I believe you
And I'm mad because I love you
So I stop and think that maybe
You can learn to appreciate me
Then it all remains the same that
You ain't never gonna change
Danjaruz Disclosures, Declarations, and Diatribes:
I have to get this out.
I once loved a man who used to love me with his fists. I still believe to this day that he did love me. Sounds twisted? It does to me too, and I lived it.
I do not think that all abusive partners are void of feelings. In fact, it takes a lot of emotion (anger, rage, etc) to physically/mentally/emotionally hurt someone close to you. I believe that many abusers love the people they abuse, but due to conflicts and unresolved issues buried inside, they cannot come to terms with this love, and they have no self-control. Whether brought on by substance abuse (alcohol, drugs) or brought on by unchecked anger issues or simply brought on by an unconscious need for control, abuse is not black and white simple. It is a complex phenomenon and people on the outside, looking in, ought to be more mindful and understanding of that.
I met him when I was 16. Most people would say I knew nothing of love then, but I know that I did. In fact, I knew more about it than a lot of people older than me. I craved it, having felt that it was lacking in my life. I needed to belong to someone, be needed by someone, rest comfortably in the protective loving embrace of someone who was as passionate as I was. He was considerably older than I was. I later found out he initially believed I was at least 21. But when he realized my age, he continued to see me, and I later felt that he should have shown more control. I also realized that he needed a 16 year old to control.
I had a lot of firsts with him. I gave him my virginity. He was the first man I ever loved. In being with him, I lied to my parents. I gave him my money. I did everything he asked me to because he told me that if I truly loved him, I would do all of these things willingly. My ideas of love until this point pretty much coincided with what he said; if you love someone, you will do anything they ask. It was around this time that I also became in touch with my submissive side. I began to realize that when it comes to men and relationships (especially in sex), I prefer to take the submissive role. He knew this, and he preyed on it.
We shared the same birthday, April 6, so we are both Aries. Truly Alpha Aries at that. There was a lot of fire and passion, in everything we did. Eating, conversation, sex, loving, hating, longing... so much passion and intensity. Lot of power in the punches too.
I was away at school, so I had very little chance to see him. I would sneak home on the weekends, while my parents thought I was at school, and I would go see him. We would spend time in his home, because we couldnt risk being seen in public. He expected me to stay home, cook for him, have sex with him, and basically take care of him. I realized later that he needed this so much because his mother never did any of this for him. In fact, he and his mother hated each other with terrible passion. One of his many issues.
Time went by and things fell apart, to say the least. Of course I found out that he was seeing other women. My nose was open for him, and I was young, so it hurt so much. Emotionally, he had a hold on me, and I didnt know how to cope without him being there, guiding me or molding me. in school, I was in charge of everything, running clubs, involved everywhere, very well-known on campus. My private life, however, was in shambles. One day, we just ended it.
I met him again when I was 19. I had decided to take a year off before beginning college, for real, and we ran into each other on the train. I fell back into the same trap, except this time, he wasnt working and really struggling in life. Everything he had before, the co-op, the car, the job all gone. It was karma of course, but he wouldnt acknowledge it. He blamed everyone but himself. And yes, he took his frustrations and anger out on me. This was when he became physical. He hardly hit me in my face because that would leave marks. I do however, still have a slight scar on my face from when he pushed me face first into a rug and raped me because he said I was not making enough money for his liking.
At the time, I did not consider it rape. I mean, he loved me right? He was my man right? But I didnt want to have sex with him, and he did it anyway. That, I have learned is rape. This type of thing happened often. My naturally submissive nature did not recognize his actions as abuse. At the time, I was beginning to grow my locs, and he would pull at them from the roots, almost pulling them out of my scalp. Shit hurt like hell. He would laugh, like it was funny. He often laughed at my tears. He then began to tell me I need to lose weight. At first he loved me for being a bigger woman, but eventually, I became a lazy fat-ass. He felt that sicne I wouldnt exercise, he would fuck the fat off of me. I never understood how jamming a penis down someone's throat would make them lose weight, but that seemed to be his favorite thing. He would smack my face so hard and laugh when tears came. He used to love to pinch the fatty parts of my body. One time he pinched me so tight, the skin gave way and ended up on his finger nails. He apologized for it, kissed me of course, tended to the wound, held me in his arms, stroked my hair, and told me I was his baby girl and would ask if I knew how much he loved me. I would agree in the positive and that would be that.
When I would say I had to go home, he would always go into a long speech about how everyone always wanted to leave him. He couldnt understand why I wouldnt move in with him. I lated realize, he just wanted easier access to my money. He was already getting half of everything I made, but then he upped it to taking my entire check, and giving me an allowance. We continued our relationship to when I got to college. My new friends had no idea that the man I introduced them too at a party would later take off his belt and beat me senseless with it because he said he didnt want me associating with white people. The next day he left to go home, and I called him on the cell phone I bought him, telling him I couldnt be with him anymore. he got off the train, came back to Philadelphia, claiming he wanted to talk, and for the first time ever, he punched me dead in my mouth. He told me to think about what I was saying, while my mouth healed.
I called him a week later and told him that I couldnt see him anymore. Not because I didnt love or need him, but simply because I needed to focus on school. Amazingly he seemed to accept this as a good reason and agreed. I would not stop thinking about him every day until my 23rd birthday. I would see him again only once, but he did not see me. I have not stopped loving him.
I write this long post to say, Danja is working on some things. Since being with him, I have experienced a lot of different men, different situations, different emotions, different experiences. In every situation, I have learned at least one new thing about myself and at least one new thing about men. I have had terrible and wodnerful experiences since knowing him. One thing remains the same. I still love hard, and I still aim to please my man. But now, I am a stronger woman. I am still vulnerable, and still have some insecurities, but the biggest, baddest, and boldest of us all do. Each day, I work on ME. I work on building my esteem, my confidence, my control, my life. I try to make wise decisions. I work on not falling into the same traps.
Unfortunately, it is easier said than done. Every now and then I slip and fall or I can feel myself repeating the same patterns of action or emotion. I can feel myself losing control and feeling helpless. I know that I will never stay with another man who strikes me in anger or emotionally destroys me. I know that things will be on my terms and in my strength.
I run, fast, at the first sign of danger. Any little things that seem like clues to what might come, I pay close attention to. There are warning signs, triggers, little things a man can do that send up red flags. So I bounce, quickly. Sometimes too quickly, but that is the chance I take.
Imma be alright though...
Danjaruz Haiku:
You beat my body
But my spirit still lives on
I am not broken
See, when I get the strength to leave
You always tell me that you need me
And I'm weak cause I believe you
And I'm mad because I love you
So I stop and think that maybe
You can learn to appreciate me
Then it all remains the same that
You ain't never gonna change
Danjaruz Disclosures, Declarations, and Diatribes:
I have to get this out.
I once loved a man who used to love me with his fists. I still believe to this day that he did love me. Sounds twisted? It does to me too, and I lived it.
I do not think that all abusive partners are void of feelings. In fact, it takes a lot of emotion (anger, rage, etc) to physically/mentally/emotionally hurt someone close to you. I believe that many abusers love the people they abuse, but due to conflicts and unresolved issues buried inside, they cannot come to terms with this love, and they have no self-control. Whether brought on by substance abuse (alcohol, drugs) or brought on by unchecked anger issues or simply brought on by an unconscious need for control, abuse is not black and white simple. It is a complex phenomenon and people on the outside, looking in, ought to be more mindful and understanding of that.
I met him when I was 16. Most people would say I knew nothing of love then, but I know that I did. In fact, I knew more about it than a lot of people older than me. I craved it, having felt that it was lacking in my life. I needed to belong to someone, be needed by someone, rest comfortably in the protective loving embrace of someone who was as passionate as I was. He was considerably older than I was. I later found out he initially believed I was at least 21. But when he realized my age, he continued to see me, and I later felt that he should have shown more control. I also realized that he needed a 16 year old to control.
I had a lot of firsts with him. I gave him my virginity. He was the first man I ever loved. In being with him, I lied to my parents. I gave him my money. I did everything he asked me to because he told me that if I truly loved him, I would do all of these things willingly. My ideas of love until this point pretty much coincided with what he said; if you love someone, you will do anything they ask. It was around this time that I also became in touch with my submissive side. I began to realize that when it comes to men and relationships (especially in sex), I prefer to take the submissive role. He knew this, and he preyed on it.
We shared the same birthday, April 6, so we are both Aries. Truly Alpha Aries at that. There was a lot of fire and passion, in everything we did. Eating, conversation, sex, loving, hating, longing... so much passion and intensity. Lot of power in the punches too.
I was away at school, so I had very little chance to see him. I would sneak home on the weekends, while my parents thought I was at school, and I would go see him. We would spend time in his home, because we couldnt risk being seen in public. He expected me to stay home, cook for him, have sex with him, and basically take care of him. I realized later that he needed this so much because his mother never did any of this for him. In fact, he and his mother hated each other with terrible passion. One of his many issues.
Time went by and things fell apart, to say the least. Of course I found out that he was seeing other women. My nose was open for him, and I was young, so it hurt so much. Emotionally, he had a hold on me, and I didnt know how to cope without him being there, guiding me or molding me. in school, I was in charge of everything, running clubs, involved everywhere, very well-known on campus. My private life, however, was in shambles. One day, we just ended it.
I met him again when I was 19. I had decided to take a year off before beginning college, for real, and we ran into each other on the train. I fell back into the same trap, except this time, he wasnt working and really struggling in life. Everything he had before, the co-op, the car, the job all gone. It was karma of course, but he wouldnt acknowledge it. He blamed everyone but himself. And yes, he took his frustrations and anger out on me. This was when he became physical. He hardly hit me in my face because that would leave marks. I do however, still have a slight scar on my face from when he pushed me face first into a rug and raped me because he said I was not making enough money for his liking.
At the time, I did not consider it rape. I mean, he loved me right? He was my man right? But I didnt want to have sex with him, and he did it anyway. That, I have learned is rape. This type of thing happened often. My naturally submissive nature did not recognize his actions as abuse. At the time, I was beginning to grow my locs, and he would pull at them from the roots, almost pulling them out of my scalp. Shit hurt like hell. He would laugh, like it was funny. He often laughed at my tears. He then began to tell me I need to lose weight. At first he loved me for being a bigger woman, but eventually, I became a lazy fat-ass. He felt that sicne I wouldnt exercise, he would fuck the fat off of me. I never understood how jamming a penis down someone's throat would make them lose weight, but that seemed to be his favorite thing. He would smack my face so hard and laugh when tears came. He used to love to pinch the fatty parts of my body. One time he pinched me so tight, the skin gave way and ended up on his finger nails. He apologized for it, kissed me of course, tended to the wound, held me in his arms, stroked my hair, and told me I was his baby girl and would ask if I knew how much he loved me. I would agree in the positive and that would be that.
When I would say I had to go home, he would always go into a long speech about how everyone always wanted to leave him. He couldnt understand why I wouldnt move in with him. I lated realize, he just wanted easier access to my money. He was already getting half of everything I made, but then he upped it to taking my entire check, and giving me an allowance. We continued our relationship to when I got to college. My new friends had no idea that the man I introduced them too at a party would later take off his belt and beat me senseless with it because he said he didnt want me associating with white people. The next day he left to go home, and I called him on the cell phone I bought him, telling him I couldnt be with him anymore. he got off the train, came back to Philadelphia, claiming he wanted to talk, and for the first time ever, he punched me dead in my mouth. He told me to think about what I was saying, while my mouth healed.
I called him a week later and told him that I couldnt see him anymore. Not because I didnt love or need him, but simply because I needed to focus on school. Amazingly he seemed to accept this as a good reason and agreed. I would not stop thinking about him every day until my 23rd birthday. I would see him again only once, but he did not see me. I have not stopped loving him.
I write this long post to say, Danja is working on some things. Since being with him, I have experienced a lot of different men, different situations, different emotions, different experiences. In every situation, I have learned at least one new thing about myself and at least one new thing about men. I have had terrible and wodnerful experiences since knowing him. One thing remains the same. I still love hard, and I still aim to please my man. But now, I am a stronger woman. I am still vulnerable, and still have some insecurities, but the biggest, baddest, and boldest of us all do. Each day, I work on ME. I work on building my esteem, my confidence, my control, my life. I try to make wise decisions. I work on not falling into the same traps.
Unfortunately, it is easier said than done. Every now and then I slip and fall or I can feel myself repeating the same patterns of action or emotion. I can feel myself losing control and feeling helpless. I know that I will never stay with another man who strikes me in anger or emotionally destroys me. I know that things will be on my terms and in my strength.
I run, fast, at the first sign of danger. Any little things that seem like clues to what might come, I pay close attention to. There are warning signs, triggers, little things a man can do that send up red flags. So I bounce, quickly. Sometimes too quickly, but that is the chance I take.
Imma be alright though...
Danjaruz Haiku:
You beat my body
But my spirit still lives on
I am not broken
posted by MBT4679 at 11/26/2004 12:21:00 PM
2 Comments:
This is the third time I've read this. I came here immediately after reading your comment on my blog and quickly closed out the window after I finished it. The parallels are just too similar.
First off, my birthday is April 6th as well, so hey "twin"!
I know I questioned in the comments of my blog whether or not my ex truly loved me and I should clarify that. I know that he loved me. Even if his ways of showing it were extremely different from mine, I do know that he loved me. But in the same breath, I have to believe that his love isn't of the healthy kind. It's a sick, consuming love. The type that would have destroyed me as a person if I had stayed with him.
I just don't know what to say, it's almost as if you lived exactly what I've been through years before I ever went through it. The lying to the parents, the submission...My ex isolated me from EVERYONE. My friends almost never saw me because I spent all free time with him. And when they did see me, he was around or making his presence known through incessant calling.
I'm sorry that we can relate so well to each other's experiences. I am proud, however, that we both emerged from those situations stronger and unbeaten.
Thank you so much for sharing that with me.
I feel this pain as it is very real and no one can ever take what you got from this exprience. I've been there also, to the point my baby was beaten out of me by the man who claimed to love me more than life. Healing is a process, and at 37, trust me, I'm still healing....stay strong and keep being Dangerous.
Icy....
Post a Comment
<< Home