Recognizing Abuse: My Journey with Lewis and Tyson - A Domestic Violence Awareness Story
The next part in our Domestic Violence Awareness series is the story of Lewis. I hope it’s obvious that I am changing the names. Please do not try to identify, find, or dox anyone you think you might know. Lewis is a man that I met online when I was 18. I spent my 19th birthday alone in his apartment while he went to some convention. He picked me up from 2 hours away, drove me to his home, made sure I had what I needed for a couple of days and dipped. This was exactly what I asked for. I was in a very chaotic time period when I met Lewis.
Lewis and my connection started off strong. There was love bombing. There is always love bombing. As someone that had poor boundaries and poor love in the home, it always felt right when someone love bombed me. Of course I didn’t know what it was then. I expected that Lewis would keep that same momentum throughout our relationship. Eventually he moved me into his apartment as a way to help me escape my foster sister and her husband. (As always, that is a different story.)
I lived with Lewis for several months without a job. During this time I was taking care of the home and being lazy otherwise. Eventually he lost his patience for this, understandably. Instead of having a conversation with me first, he decided that he lost interest in me. Unbeknownst to me, this man was still on dating websites, meeting up with women on his lunch break, sending and receiving dirty pictures and apparently fucking a 16 year old. She might have been 17.
What was so odd was that I knew the child. She was my sister’s ex-boyfriend’s daughter. She lived 2 hours away. I don’t remember exactly how I found out, but I remember that Lewis had to be tested for herpes after this. I was livid, not because of the potential for STDs, well, not solely because of that anyway. I was livid that he had been sleeping with a child at the age of 29.
This guy should have helped solidify my gut instincts. Everything I ever suspected about him would be confirmed. I logged onto his computer one day to find him setting up a meeting with another woman on his Facebook page. We worked through that. And by that I mean he drove me to a friend's house, 1.5 hours away, gave me money for the weekend, and was put on notice that I would be doing whatever I wanted. I remember I found out about the girl and the woman he was meeting the same week. I was, no doubt, terrified by the… creative threats I spit at him for an hour and a half. Beyond all of that, he intentionally made me feel like I was at fault for his proclivities. He tried to make me feel bad about myself. This relationship started to break my relationship with myself. He made me question my intuition and my emotional intelligence.
Lewis and I had broken up after the above situation and I moved in with a neighbor/new boyfriend that I had made friends with. Let’s call him Tyson. (I’m so sorry you’ll have to bear with me, we aren’t done with the Lewis story - but we are about to connect 2 abuse stories.) Tyson was also a love bomber. He made me feel like I was his whole world for a time. I was, he was unemployed, had a baby, spoke poorly of the child’s mother, was behind on child support, and never saw his child. I later found out that was because he had a domestic violence charge on him from the child’s mother.
Tyson was a different kind of abusive. He would accuse me of cheating on him. I was working full-time as an assistant manager for a dairy place. Sometimes I would get held over with closing duties, and other times I would take a couple of minutes to buy groceries to feed us. One night in particular, I was about 5 minutes late walking home in about a foot of snow. I had also purchased a few items I needed for his requested BLTs.
I walked in the door of our apartment that I was paying for, and Tyson dropped down on his knees in front of me to sniff my crotch. He was certain he would be able to smell another man on me. He legitimately could smell my period coming, so I don’t doubt that if I had been sleeping around he would have caught it. You would think this would have been the end of the conversation. Most nights it was. He went and sat down while I started frying bacon for his fucking BLTs. The kitchen was small with only one small opening to get in or out.
It wasn’t long before he was screaming at me while blocking my exit. I think it went on for about 5 minutes, all the while my blood was boiling. Did I mention I have anger issues? But also, what he was aiming for was reactive abuse. He wanted me to do something that he could showcase as crazy. He almost got his wish as I picked up the cast iron skillet I was using and told him if he didn’t “back the fuck up I am going to throw this bacon and oil on you.” He backed up, I cut the stove and walked out to go calm down.
He followed me outside to continue the argument. When we went inside he continued to rage and knocked the vacuum over while making direct eye-contact. I was intimidated but hadn’t yet lost my voice or my backbone. Had I stayed, I learned later, that he would have hit me. This display of physical violence was meant to scare me and wear me down. This behavior is what I call abuse ramping up. It is a precursor to future abuse.
I don’t remember how that night calmed down but it wasn’t long before I went home to spend some time with my family. He called me constantly, picked fights with my ex, and tried to monopolize my time. This is a tactic that if I had stayed would have resulted in isolation. Having to fight the entire time one is spending time with folks who love them would eventually condition the target to spend less and less time with the people who could see and say something. Abusers will isolate you from your support system, this is just one example of how they do it.
While he was acting crazy, my sister reaffirmed that he was, in fact, acting crazy. She looked so concerned. It was her concern that caused me to text Lewis. Lewis, for all his many failings, has a hero complex that saved my ass. When I got back to town, my first stop was Lewis to iron out the details of my stay. While we were discussing, I got a call from the neighbor across the hall from Tyson telling me he was throwing my shit into the hall.
This was actually less of a problem than Tyson wanted it to be. It was helpful. I did try to enter the apartment to make sure my things were out. I had been paying, and I got mail there. He should not have been able to bar me. He and I argued through the door. Eventually he got me to react the way he wanted me to the whole time we were together. I kicked that metal entry door hard enough to break a chain lock clean off. He immediately called the cops, eerily calm, to report that I had broken his nose.
I took this time to tell Lewis I was going to jail, he had been ferrying my things up the stairs. I gave him my debit card so that he could bail me out. He had a date that night but he promised me he would make sure I got home. The cop apologetically arrested me after hearing both sides. I spent about 30 minutes in that jail cell before I was released on a promise to appear.
Lewis, although he had saved me, was still not a true hero in this story. He continued to use sneaky tactics with the intention of cutting down my self-esteem. One last story to round us out and finish this chapter of my life. Lewis had a female friend that insisted on meeting me while I was with Tyson. She, to this day, claims she had a morbid curiosity about what kind of woman would date Lewis. I loved her immediately.
Lovely and I were both bigger gals. She had about 15 pounds on me, I knew, we went shopping together. Lewis wouldn’t let me sit on his lap one day, because I was too heavy. Later that night Lovely came over and he encouraged her to sit on his lap. I called him out on it and he admitted this was done with the intention to hurt me.
There is one more piece to the Lewis story that I forgot. Consistently, when I would call him on mistreatment, he would become self-hating. I didn’t recognize that as abusive until later but it never sat right with my spirit. I am a compassionate person so it worked for a long time. The night it stopped working he grabbed a katana and threatened to kill himself. I stand by how I handled it. I called his father to come get his weapons. Next time, I’ll call the cops and let them handle it because his father just determined he didn’t mean it.
So, in conclusion, we have talked about love-bombing, manipulation, undermining, escalation, gaslighting, isolation, reactive abuse, suicidal threats, control of the physical environment (trapping me in the kitchen), isolation using finances, and finally reactive abuse. For more information on other ways those things can present please click HERE for additional education and resources.
I have been fortunate in my stories so far that I; one, recognized that something wasn’t right before things got too bad and two, was able to find support to leave when I needed to. Not everyone is as fortunate. My story of leaving within the first time or two of trying is uncommon and not representative of the norm in these situations. If you are struggling to leave, I hope you can find the resources available. You are not weak, you are not deserving of abuse, and you are not consenting just because you can’t see a way out. I love you and I will help in any way I can. Even if it is just holding space for you while you find your voice.
With love and compassion,
Mia Marie