"My Heart Would Love To Love Him Again...

but it knows now that it's way more hurt than it can take." -Shannon (me), (c)2005

Everyone I know has gone through a heartache in one manner or another. The hardest part of losing someone, I think, is when that person wasn't very good for you and you loved them so much that a part of you is gone. I don't mean just the attachment part either. I mean when you lose your pride, your self-esteem, a member of your family, and your control of your life all at the same time, while still imagining all the great times you had together like they could ever mask all the pain caused by the person.

Paul was like that. He was great while I thought I had him. We'd talk about everything and he'd supposedly listen. We talked about having kids, getting married, building a house, and having a happy life together. Everything was wonderful for about 4 months, until, I started getting smart. A web of lies was starting to take form in my mind. Things started adding up. I found myself, yet again, stuck in an abusive relationship with myself and my whole world in it. He'd told me the lady we were living with was his cousin, who, was actually his OTHER girlfriend. He told me he'd never been married. I found out not only did he have a wife, but they weren't planning a divorce anytime soon. I found out that he and his wife made a plan that if I were to get pregnant, they'd steal the baby and do all the things that he and I had talked about doing together. Two days and a mental breakdown later, I found out I was pregnant. That just made things worse. Three months after I got the news, my butt was stuck out in the cold. Literally. Pregnant, starving, no belongings, no home, in the middle of December. I vowed never to go back, to move on with my life, to raise my son in a loving home, and avoid Paul at all costs.

Until I saw him again that spring after Creid was born. He wanted me back, wanted to be a family, wanted to see his son. He said we'd move to his parents' house, they'd help us raise Creid and we'd be away from all the problems. My heart raced at the sound of his voice, I felt weak when I saw him again and I learned three days later that real problems never leave, they follow. He got drunk, beat me up and left me, again. I always thought, "Maybe if we try again, it'll work this time."

Two days after I got Creid home (after a heartbreaking 6 weeks in the NICU for being a preemie), DSS comes in and takes him. Paul and his friends had called and told them I was killing my son. He was really trying to take Creid away! All the charges were eventually dropped, however and Paul is on a restricted visitation plan put in place by the DSS, but not until I told them everything I knew.

Believe it or not, even after all that I felt tied to him like a dog on a leash. I could do what I wanted, but was restricted from straying too far. I was scared of him at this point. He'd stolen my life, who knew what else he'd take. Then he came back to me again. This time a very different feeling came over me. I was no longer in awe of him, I was leery. My heart jumped, not skipped when I saw him. I looked in those once beautiful brown eyes and saw deeper into the swirling, conscienceless abyss. I had realized he was bad. I had also realized that I had to do something, anything to get away. And far.

I look back now, every once in a while, and think how it might be with him. Good news for me that shortly after the thought comes to mind it is overridden by the love I have now for myself, my family, and all the things I have wanted with him, but gained on my own.


Valuable Links
For Parents- To Prevent Their Boys From Becoming Abusive

Support for Battered Women

How To Identify Abusive Relationships