I don't know the extent of the abuse you ladies are referring too...physical, emotional, mental, or all three...But I agree with Yiming. I've had my shin broken, my face stomped on, my tooth chipped, etc... etc... We lived in a house in the middle of nowhere; 8 miles to town and no vehicle. I couldn't get out of the house, he'd chase me down and pull me back in by my hair. I couldn't call anyone; he ripped the phone from the wall and smashed it...I called it the Hell House. It reminded me of Ametyville horror... I've held my 2 month old baby boy in my arms, sheilding him from the blows I got to the back of my head....
Sometimes I wished he'd just kill me and get it over with. After 3 years and marraige counseling, the physical abuse pretty much stopped. But I was still compared to strippers on TV, "Why don't you have a body like that? I'd rather fuck her than you..." and he'd follow me around the house with our son in his arms, telling him what a stupid cunt his mother was...And one day...after 2 years of no physical abuse, I was making his lunch for work in the morning while he was getting ready. I told him I had gone out and gotten cigarrettes, so he didn't have to stop. He accused me of stealing his money to get them, and said "a lying whore like you doesn't deserve cigarettes for the day." I told him, "An ass like you doesn't deserve the lunch I just made," and I threw it in the garbage. "And I will have my cigarettes." I snatched the pack of cigarettes up and he threw me on the ground in a headlock. He was trying to take the smokes, but I refused to let them go. It wasn't about cigarrettes anymore, and this was just the excuse I had been looking for to get the balls to leave. My son, 4 at the time, came around the corner, and that's when my ex let go and went to work.
I trashed the place. I poured coffee all over the counters and followed that with sugar...I took all the food out of the cabinets and poured everything all around the house. I broke everything I saw, including his Computer and all of his cd's. And we simply weren't there by the time he got back home. That's when his father got me a place I couldn't afford, and a few months later I met Marty. I still gave my ex chances to be with the kids, but he blew that when my 1 year old daughter came home with a 3rd degree burn on her arm from a meth pipe. I asked my son, "what was daddy doing when Leah got burned?" He said, "Smoking the glass thing."
I moved three states away from my ex. He has no contact with the children. I still send pictures via email to his parents, but that's as far as it goes. After 4 years, he actually tried to send a $25 gift card on my son's birhtday...LOL I told him to fuck off and tend to his own kid; he had his chances with mine (he has a child with the girl he's with now, and another from before he met me). I never pushed child support, and when I left I took only our clothes.
Looking back now, I was simply stupid for the times I did go back, but I felt as though I had no where else to go. Living under a bridge or on a park bench would have been better than that...and probably better for the kids too.
