Facing Domestic Violence: My Journey with DV and the Fight for Freedom
For the third installment in this series where I am sharing my story to bring awareness to Domestic Violence, we are discussing my husband. I am opting not to change his name. While I still carry his last name, I will continue to use his real name. He has kept us linked despite my repeated attempts to legally divorce him. Brad. Just Brad, not Bradley.
I met Brad after I sabotaged a relationship that was actually healthy in comparison to the others we’ve discussed. When you’ve been fed dysfunction, healthy environments feel like the problem. Once again, we start out strong with love-bombing. Everyone leads with their best face, few seem to be able to keep that same momentum.
When Brad and I met I was living with my friend’s family. She had just experienced a massive set of traumas and I wanted to be there for her and I wanted out of the life that I was building. It’s important to recognize one’s own patterns. My friend had a large family and a small home, as such there was no privacy.
Due to this, it wasn’t long before Brad rented an apartment directly next to my friend's home. It wasn’t long after that that I moved in with him. Brad had a child that he literally tricked me into meeting long before I was ready. I should have walked then. This was a clear overstepping f my boundaries, we had discussed how I was fine with him having a child but I was in no uncertain terms not ready to meet him. He invited me out on a date the following weekend without telling me that he had his child.
This was a test of my boundaries, and I failed. I remember using this as a point later when I said I felt tricked and trapped while trying to convince anyone to let me play Runaway Bride on my wedding day. I swear not one person at my wedding actually loved me, I wouldn’t realize that until many many years later, unfortunately.
I remember that shortly after we started dating I told Brad something that I didn’t know why I felt was important. I told him that if he ever hit me he needed to make sure he could knock me out. I black out when I’m hit and my ancestors fight for me. (This is true and tested.) Further, he had better make sure that if he knocks me out I never see his face again, because if I saw his face no one else would. Sure, I was still carrying the trauma of Tyson, but I think my spirit knew I was in danger.
The first time this was confirmed for me was when he picked a fight over something stupid, I'm sure. I tried to leave to go calm down. Have I mentioned I have anger issues? Well, really I have I won’t be mistreated issues and a fear of jail, but not death. When I tried to leave he blocked my exit. I don’t remember HOW it came to be but the next thing I know my friend’s father is pounding on our door. He quickly and succinctly reminded Brad that his behavior was unbecoming of a Christian man and that mistreatment of his daughter (me, not my friend) would not be tolerated.
It was shortly after that interaction that Brad decided we needed to find an apartment in town. So we found the cheapest apartment we could. Y’all it had carpet in the bathroom. If you find yourself in a situation that has carpet in the bathroom this is the universe's way of telling you you do not belong there. 😂
I spent most of the time in my relationship with Brad walking on eggshells. Between him starting stupid fights, reacting unpredictably to normal, everyday frustrations, and my involvement with the Pentecostal church I made myself smaller and smaller to fit the patriarchal ideas of what it meant to be a Christian Wife.
To highlight the emotional immaturity that presented itself as abuse; I have two stories for you.
We went camping with a few friends one weekend. I was working, so I drove to and from the campsite every day. One day he and his friend decided to rent some kayaks or something and go on a little river trip. They took a wrong turn somewhere, got lost and didn’t have service for hours. By the time Brad was able to call me, he had no idea where he was. He had been drinking, and that didn’t help. It took my friend and I at least an hour to find these fellas.
The whole time we were on the phone Brad berated me. This was clearly all my fault. I hadn’t properly prepared him. How I was supposed to do that I have no clue, I didn’t touch my first kayak until 2021 and hadn’t been on or in a river until 2024. I wasn’t fully silenced just yet so I defended myself. To my recollection, I tried to de-escalate him several times before finally losing my temper.
By the time I lost my temper, we were back where our other vehicle had been parked. He, drunk, hopped into the driver’s side of my beat-up Buick. I was trying to take the keys out of the ignition from outside the driver’s side of the vehicle. He threw that bitch in reverse and punched the gas - hitting me with the side view mirror. I was gaslighted by the ENTIRE group of witnesses. To my recollection, it was my friend, his friend, and my friend's brother. They told me it was an accident. Do y’all want me to dive into the dynamics of that family and why they would gaslight me? I have Tea. Let me know in the comments.
The second story is about the night I left. Leading up to this night there was a denial of intimate relations, cyclical fights every two weeks, a refusal to leave me alone when I asked for space, and chasing me out of the house to continue arguments on the public streets of our neighborhood. There was also the day that I lost my patience and I backed him 15 feet across our apartment telling him that if he ever denied me space to process again there would be hell to pay.
The night I left, Brad was drunk because he had been invited out by co-workers. Before he left for work that day we agreed that I would pick him up from the bar later and that I would be asking my uncle for the title to the vehicle we were buying. This request didn’t sit right with me, I gently tried to explain that I knew my uncle and he wouldn’t be doing that. Didn’t matter. Brad - Husband. Me - Wife. Me must submit. (grammar is a style choice due to the absolute cave-man mentality of it.)
So, I brought it up with my uncle who laughed in my face. As I predicted. I assured my uncle that I understood and it was not me asking. We had a normal visit and I went home to clean and wait for Brad to call me. Around 1 AM I went to get him. He was in the car, in a good mood until he asked me about the title. I had to tell him that my uncle said no. My fault, clearly. I wasn’t good enough at persuading him. I was stupid, worthless, a bitch. I was scared, that’s what I was. So I flip a turn signal on to make the turn to take him to his father’s to cool off.
Brad always hated it when I would take alternative routes anyway. Very controlling that way. That night it further enraged him. How could I take him to his father’s just who the fuck did I think he was. He grabbed my thumb and the steering wheel and yanked in the opposite direction. He almost broke my thumb so we just went home.
When we got home I started packing my bags and called my friend. She was on speaker as he continued to rage on and on. She heard him threaten my cats, her, her brother, her father, my uncle, and eventually me. Before she got there, he had me backed into a literal corner where he threatened to take my life, fist cocked back and everything. I remember locking eyes with him, I remember wanting to goad him but thinking better of it I remained silent as we were deadlocked for what felt like lifetimes.
We are still in a kind of deadlock to this day. I’ve tried to initiate a divorce on a couple of occasions only to have him refuse to work with me in any way. He acted like he would and when it came down to the wire, he went silent. Partially, I am at fault. I know there are ways to go around him to get it done. They are emotionally and financially more expensive than remaining married to him. I lost so much to this man and I am stubborn in that I would rather die married to him than spend another dime trying to untangle our connection.
That being said, I feel bad for his current and future girlfriends. I’ve made his current girlfriend aware of the back story and underscored that he has been refusing to divorce me since 2013. I have proof of that. I also underscored that the reason WHY he refuses is that it is the last game of power and control he has over me. While I recognize that people heal, grow, and change, given my husband’s most recent display I don’t think he has. To the current girlfriend, I hope you can get out. You deserve better.
I deserved better and I am thankful that I was able to recognize that. I am also thankful for the support system I had in my life at that time. Even if my friend's mother, and my own mother, would encourage me to stay with him. My friend’s mother came at it from a Christian perspective. My mother came at it from a health insurance perspective. I was physically safe, but it would take years to find emotional safety.
If any of my stories have felt familiar to you, I am so sorry. Abusers use the same toolkit. This is actually good news because if we educate ourselves on that toolkit we become harder to manipulate, harder to abuse and can better help our loved ones identify the signs and symptoms of abuse. Please seek help if you are in an abusive situation. You can find resources HERE. You deserve to be safe, loved, and cared for. Even if you have to find a way to provide that for yourself with help, of course.
With love and compassion,
Mia Marie
Embracing Self-Love: Navigating Boundaries, Online Drama, and Personal Growth
You are as good as the best in me, and I am as bad as the worst in you. This thought came to me several days before writing this. I knew it mattered at the time but I couldn’t think of how I wanted to expand on this thought. Today I am ruminating on some Facebook drama I conjured a couple of days ago. I *cough* have an occasional flair for dramatics. Hear me out. Stick with me as this story unfolds, I promise it all connects.
I have been unemployed and have maybe too much time on my hands and its political theater season. If Abstention was counted as a valid option I would take it, believe me I have some thoughts on where our nation is. I do think that the average person can agree that while the stock market is up, many of us are not feeling that in our day to day lives. Even when I was working a full time job at a little better than the proposed minimum wage of $15 an hour … it's hard out here. Again, I’m kind of chronically online right now, I’ve seen the stories, I know I am not the only one. I know the majority of Americans are struggling. Not just financially; many of us are emotionally burnt out chronically exhausted from the perpetual grind.
When I put something out online, whether in my personal space or for a larger audience I try to be sure that what I am saying isn’t overly harsh or hateful. I see too much hateful content, if your honest, I bet you do too. I am not saying I expertly navigate the online space, I am not saying that I never put anything out that isn’t critical. I know I give the impression that I am a “Love and Light” brand of spirituality, however that is not the case. I actually believe that by ignoring and burying our more “dark” qualities we do ourselves and others a disservice.
“Mia, your brand is built on love, isn’t that paradoxical?” - you probably. Sure, on its face it can be seen as paradoxical. Remember that MY focus is on loving yourself better. When we love ourselves better we are better able to navigate a world that does not always appear to love us. We are better able to show love when we are connected with the parts of us that protect us, in a healthy way. If I allow anyone into my energy, into my space, and treat me anyway they want I am signaling to myself and to the inner child I have worked so hard to heal that I do not love myself enough to be protected. For me this echo’s what I was taught in childhood. I was taught that in 1000 small ways that MY comfort, MY opinion, MY feelings did not matter. Every time I allow someone to disrespect me publicly or privately I am undoing all the love I have showered on my inner child because I am reinforcing the message that I received as a child: your comfort should always come before my own.
So, I woke up and chose violence just days after my initial revelation that is the first sentence. I posted on my own personal Facebook page about my opinions of folks based on how they were voting. I wasn’t 100% sure why I was making that post, I’ve been pretty non-confrontational for years now. I even took a year long social media hiatus back in 2020 because I didn’t like the person I was in the comments section. I determined that I needed to learn to not call names, to not be a dick for no reason and here I was in essence, being a dick. (I stand by everything I said though.) In the initial post I went through the right, left and 3rd party candidates and then had to add abstention at the request of a friend. It wasn’t long before I had two, male, former co-workers in my comments. One, in essence telling me to calm down. The other, lashed out -exactly- as I detailed in the post that a particular candidate's constituents would. He missed the point, proved my point and called me the only thing men ever call me once they realize I can’t be shut up, NARCISSIST. I genuinely laughed out loud. This man, who sought to throw me off the horse that I saddled, had no idea the journey I’ve been through with that word.
There is some discourse in my family about who the original narcissist was and if my mother is in fact a narcissist or if she was borderline personality disorder. Borderline would be the result of narcissistic abuse. Why am I telling you this? Because when I was reading about the trauma, symptoms, and tactics of narcissistic abuse I saw myself in them. I saw myself in it and went to my therapist and I said “I think I am a narcissist.” It’s worth noting that my mother and a couple of emotionally immature men had already used this word against me in arguments. I didn’t realize they were telling on themselves. My therapist laughed and told me that I wasn’t a narcissist, but that I had learned behaviors from one. Beyond that, I’ve been called an empath way more often. Which, some folks will tell you, is just another expression of narcissism. Those folks probably lack a nuanced understanding and context.
I do not identify as an empath, but I do feel energy. Did you know that every emotion has its own energetic signature? I had to learn. My family had a lot of big emotions and sometimes were unable to control them in healthy ways. I learned how to navigate those energies to survive. I will not be made to feel guilty for learning how to cope with toxicity. I instead learned how to observe my toxic traits and, this is crazy, learned how to stop them. I learned how to identify my triggers, how to sit with them, how to make sure they did NOT become someone else's problem. So, when folks tell me about myself, or think they are, it gives me a giggle. I know the work I’ve done, on my own and with professionals to show up in this world with authenticity and vulnerability.
Protecting yourself and your space from people that are harmful to you is an act of self-love. Even if you are perceived as “mean” or “narcissistic”. (Afterall NPD was often developed as an unhealthy coping mechanism.) Remember, what we see in others, whether “good” or “bad”, often reflects something within ourselves. The person who lashed out at me is likely blinded to the good in me because he can't yet see the good in himself. I recognize his potential because I’ve come to recognize the light in me, but that doesn't mean I’ll allow him into my space again. Boundaries are essential.
And speaking of boundaries, sometimes navigating life’s stressors and toxic interactions requires a little extra support. For me, finding balance means using natural remedies like CBD to help manage stress and maintain my peace. If you’re dealing with the emotional weight of these interactions—or just need to take the edge off from the grind—I highly recommend it. You can still use coupon code MIAMARIE at https://swampyetiproducts.com/?ref=Practicinglove for $5 off your CBD or Nootropic needs.
With love for myself first and you second,
Mia Marie
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
