Surviving Domestic Violence Pt. 6

Trigger Warning- This post contains explicit descriptions regarding domestic violence, emotional abuse and substance abuse.

If you or someone you know is in a dangerous situation, please don’t wait. Call the National Domestic Violence Hotline 1-800-799-7233

The Spiral

Moving on was hard.

But after that night, I knew what I was doing was for the better. He continued to call me, message me on Facebook, and reach out in every way he could; even going as far as making fake social media profiles and using TextNow numbers. Sometimes it was threatening. Other times it was apologetic. But eventually, it seemed like he understood that I was truly done—because for a while, things went quiet.

In hindsight, I should have slowed down.

Rest would have been so beneficial after everything I had been through.

Rest. Reflection. Repair.

And honestly, I needed repair.

I was damaged in ways I couldn’t even comprehend yet. My brain had blocked out so much of the pain that I hadn’t even recognized that it was there.

It’s like burning your hand. If you’ve ever accidentally touched something extremely hot, you'll know that at first you don’t feel the pain. It takes a few seconds for your brain to receive the message from your nerves saying, ''Yikes, that's hot!" There’s a delay.

Well, that’s what I was experiencing- a delay.

There was a delay between my heart and my head—logic and emotion. Between the trauma and my awareness of it; my brain was trying to protect me. It knew I couldn’t carry that much pain all at once, so it shielded me.

I thank God for that kind of protection.

If I had felt the full weight of every incident when it happened, I would have broke. Completely. I wouldn’t have been able to function, and I wouldn’t be where I am today. If I had felt it all at once, I wouldn’t have survived it.

About six months passed, (from the time I left him completely) and there was silence.

He apologized during that time, but it felt extremely manipulative. He knew what he had done to me, and he knew his court date was approaching. Still, I thanked him for the apology. It gave me a small sense of closure and I thought, maybe now I can finally breathe.

Nowhere Was Safe

Instead of resting, like I should have done, I started dating someone new. We’ll call him Ron.

Ron wasn’t my usual type, but he was kind. He was a Virgo, like me.

On our first date, he took me to Ocean Prime, and it was genuinely sweet; romantic almost. I really liked Ron.

One Tuesday Night, Ron invited me to The Daiquiri Shoppe on Grand and Frank showed up—with one of his new girlfriends. He walked up, shook Ron’s hand, and acted completely unfazed. Cool as a cucumber. But the tension was thick. You could feel it in the air. Ron made a point to reassure me, to make me feel safe, to let me know I didn’t need to worry.

A few moments later, I went to the restroom—and of course, the girlfriend was in there too.

She kept staring at me. So, I broke the ice and said, “Your name is ___, right?”

She said, yes.

I don’t know why my mouth couldn’t just stay shut, but the silence felt awkward. We were in a small bathroom, both washing our hands, and it felt strange not to acknowledge the situation. So, I said, “Oh, okay. Nice to meet you.”

She stormed out of the bathroom and immediately went to Frank, causing a full-blown scene.

That was my mistake. In hindsight, I don't think recognized me initially, but I could hear her asking Frank how I knew her name.

She was causing such a scene that the entire party stopped. Heads turned, music stopped. Ron had to get security involved to escort them out the building.

I stood there confused. I honestly didn’t know what to say. She was furious that I was there—and she was trying to fight me. She continued to yell from outside the bar, Frank attempting to calm her down, but eventually they turned away and left.

At the end of the night, Ron had security walk me to my car. For obvious reasons, I didn’t feel safe going home alone, so I went back to Ron’s house instead.

It was late and we were getting ready for bed when suddenly we heard a noise.

Psssshhhh… psssshhhh… psssshhhh.

The sound was distinct.

We froze. Ron asked what I thought it was, and I said it sounded like tires being flattened. He grabbed his rifle and ran outside. Everything happened so fast—but the end result was this:

All four of his tires were flattened.

In any other situation, I would have assumed it was a jealous woman who saw my car in Ron's driveway and wanted to “get back” at him. That would have been a reasonable assumption.

 But this was no ordinary situation. It wasn't the first time Frank had harassed a guy for trying to date me. Even though we weren't together, and he was with someone else- none of that seemed to matter. I also want to note that Ron drove a truck, the wheels were huge. Theres no way a woman could have flattened those tires so quickly, on her own. Maybe, but doubtful.

When Ron came back into the house he was pissed. Naturally, he was convinced that Frank was the culprit- and I couldn’t argue because I agreed. Ron disclosed to me that Frank had even messaged him earlier that night asking if the party was still going on. They weren’t even friends, so this was very odd. Mind you, this all took place only a few hours after Frank and his girlfriend had been escorted off the premises of the bar. It was just too many coincidences.

Ron’s neighbors later told us they saw a man and a woman run into a white car right after the tires were slashed. To this day, I can’t prove it—but I 100% believe it was Frank and his girlfriend. I don’t know how they found us. I assume they followed my car, but I’ll never know for sure.

The entire night was humiliating.

But it didn’t scare Ron off… yet.

Ron gave me a key to his house because he was going out of town the next day. He wanted someone to watch the place—and we needed to replace the tires so he would have a car when he got back in town.

He sent me the money for the tires, but the truck had to be towed. I felt responsible for the entire situation. Deep down, I knew none of this would have happened if it weren’t for me.

So, I handled it. I got the truck towed, replaced the tires, and returned it safely to his house.

Everything seemed fine.

Within two weeks, Frank was back—harassing Ron again.

I don’t blame Ron for what he did next. Between the tires, the party and the harassment- he just wasn’t with the drama.  And he broke things off with me.

I was hysterical. I cried so much.

Not because I was deeply in love with Ron—but because I felt hopeless.

Like a prisoner in my own city. After that, paranoia set in. I stopped taking public gigs. I only accepted private ones, where I felt safer. Public performances came to a complete halt.

Frank had crashed a gig before, and I couldn’t risk it happening again.

So, I took a step back from singing—for my safety.

But all of this turned the ignition.

Just like the first time I left him, I needed a reason. Something to fuel the fire that was already burning inside me. And this was it.

I realized I had no choice but to fully cooperate with the prosecutor—to secure my safety so I could finally live in peace.

It was bad enough that I hadn’t healed from everything that happened before. But now, I couldn’t

even move freely in my own hometown.

It was insanity.

I wanted nothing to do with Frank.

And yet, he kept inserting himself into my life.

It had to stop.