What is the meaning of life to you?

If someone were to ask you “What is the meaning of life to you?” What would your answer be?

Some may have a religious response. Some may even mention the universe and the difference between living and non-living.

If you ask me, I would most definitely define it as, 2016. This year was the most astonishing year yet for me. From finances, relationships, friendships, losing my own sense of self and just… everything.

But one situation in particular changed everything, it even changed me…

It started in February, I was going on in a year long relationship with this guy, (we’re going to call him X). He and I both in separate cities, we talked and decided we had enough of the back and forth. Even though we lived only 3 hours apart, after a year and all the money accumulated, it was time. So we got an apartment, I packed my things and I moved back to my hometown with him.

Now, let’s pause right here. I know some of you may be thinking “Why in the hell did you pack up and leave?” Trust me, we were trying to find him a job here, but it just never worked. Plus, it was my hometown and I still had family there. So if something was to ever happen, I would be safe.

Press play. Okay, boom! We’re living together, I already had a job lined up before moving, so I was set. Fast forward, things are going pretty good. Arguments here and there of course, but nothing too major.

Oh boy, was I wrong.

After time went on, I started noticing things. Now I saw signs earlier in the relationship, but being who I was I ignored them. I’m a woman, so apart of my nature is to nurture, and that’s what I always tried to do, nurture and “fix” things.

We started arguing more and more. Started with verbal abuse. To each other of course. I have a smart mouth, I’ll admit that, but so did he. So often we clashed. However, his cut a little deeper with me. He said things to me that destroyed me. I never showed signs of weakness around him because I knew that would be an emotion to feed off. I remained silent. Then as we both slept that night, I would pretend to go to the restroom, turn on the water and cry. I sometimes slept on the floor or in the closet after our arguments because I didn’t feel worthy. I felt like shit.

I didn’t talk to my friends often too much. I stayed quiet. When asked how we were, I responded, “Oh we good girl!” and immediately change the subject.

He never really liked me talking to my friends. At least not for too long anyway.

Overtime things got worse. The arguments, the threats, the name-calling, even the tears. Mine of course.

I decided to leave.

One early morning, we both had to be to work. He much earlier than I. I made sure to not act so fidgety. Be cool. Go through the day as it was any other day. As usual, we got into an argument. When I saw him walking out the door for work, I followed to lock the door. He turned around and I flinched and put my hands over my face.

He’s never hit me, but I always knew he would. He has pinned me against the wall and repeatedly held me down on the bed yelling in my face. It was just a matter of time before the swing.

“I’m not going to hit you,” he said.
I just looked at him.

“Have a good day at work babe.” I said, and I shut the door.

I went back to the room, waited about 10–15 minutes to make sure he wasn’t coming back. Neither one of us had a car at the time, we took the bus. I knew the bus was coming within that time frame, so if he didn’t come back before then, he was on the bus.

I pulled out all my luggage and just started stuffing clothes in them. Didn’t take the hangers off either. I want everything! I was trying to get the hell out of there!

I called my sister the day before and told her my plan.

As I was packing, I felt a sense of relief. I felt free. I was still in the house and in the environment of the abuse physically, but in my body and my mind — I wasn’t.

So moving along, my things are ready and I’m waiting on my sister. Hours are passing and I’m getting nervous. I kept hearing car doors slam. Each one sending a jolt of terror in me. I’m looking out the window praying it isn’t him coming home for lunch, early or some random reason.

I heard one door close.

It was so close to the window.

I got butterflies in my stomach and it was at that moment I knew things were about to go from worse to detrimental. Forget bad. We were way past that.

He struggled getting in the door because of the top lock. Once I opened and he saw it was me, I could see this look in his eye.

“I thought you was suppose to be at work… lying ass.” he said.

Little did he know, my manager already knew what was going on. I already did my last day, and told her I wouldn’t be coming in that day.

“No, I’m not going into work today. I’m leaving X.” I said.

“What do you mean you leaving?”

An awkward silence fell over us. I could see the rage building. His chest stuck out. He moved me out of the way and entered the room.

I can tell you right now, when he saw all my bags sitting in the middle of the bedroom, I knew I caught him off guard.

My phone started ringing and it was my sister. The one that was suppose to have her ass there hours earlier, but you know, whatever! (eye roll)

I went outside to meet her and told her I would be out in a second.

When I returned back into the apartment, I knew I fucked up. He was already mad. All he had to do was lock the front door, close the bedroom door and start beating the shit out of me.

I went back into the room and he kept asking for my phone. I kept telling him no of course. There was no reason to see my phone. I was leaving and that was that.

I told him no one last time and began moving my things. He yelled and raised his fist to me, “BITCH GIVE ME YOUR DAMN PHONE!”

I fell onto the bed covering my head into the fetal position. Clenching my phone tight. He got on top of me and started wrestling me for it. I literally was screaming to the top of my lungs. Yet, no one heard me. Again, I felt this sense of worthlessness. He then held my hands down and placed my phone against my finger.

Damn you Apple with your fancy fingerprint scanner.

He started scrolling through looking for things and the whole time my short ass is jumping trying to get it.

He found one text message to this guy I had been knowing for a few years, and I told him I was leaving X.

I know, silly me, I forgot to delete the damn message.

“Get yo shit and move it into the living room.”

I did just that. I had no intentions on making things worse. I just wanted to get out. I saw him getting even more mad and I knew where things could go if I made him any more upset.

I moved all my things into the living room and he’s blocking the front door. I asked him to move so that I could go and I asked for my phone back. He kept scrolling. I don’t know exactly what he was looking for and until this day I still don’t. He was insecure if you ask me. He had trust issues with women. So of course he was looking to see if I was cheating and who I was with, but at the same time it’s like was that really it. I don’t know if he was more mad at the fact he couldn’t find anything or he had to scroll for a long time.

I kept telling him to just let me go. He then put the phone down. At a steady pace. Then he said the most horrifying words to me…

“I should beat yo ass.”

I can still hear him say that to me now. Sends chills down my spine and all the memories and emotions I felt at that moment.

At this point, I knew I was going to have to defend myself and fight him. I started looking around the apartment for things to find. Unfortunately, we did not have furniture. A desktop computer and desk took place of the dining room area. So I guess I was throwing a heavy ass computer at him if push came to shove.

I approached him trying to unlock the door and we tussled, then the next thing I knew I was seeing black.

I woke up. On the floor. Glasses halfway across the room and I was in a fixed position.

Crying hysterically. I didn’t know what happened. Of course he hit me, but it’s like during those last moments, I couldn’t even remember.

He had hit me.

He actually swung.

“BITCH GET YO ASS UP!” he growled.

We kept fighting and finally he opened the door. I rushed to my sister car, told her he hit me and call the police. She did and helped me get my things.

I still had one bag left before everything was in the trunk. X came outside with it and threw it all in the middle of the street. He then posted pictures of my scattered belongings, and captured it with: “Had to cut a bitch off today.”

Lovely, right.

Mind you, I’ve called the police 3–4 times, and they’ve called me back twice asking for the address. As if they couldn’t already see it.

I was sitting in the car with my sister while he was acting a fool. He kept pacing back and forth between my window and his Mom car saying the most hurtful things. Things I’ve told him in secrecy. Things only the devil would say. Because that is exactly who I saw that day. Live and direct.

So police finally showed up and I dealt with them. They took pictures and all that and took a statement.

I didn’t feel like they took me or the situation serious. I mean after all, I’m sure they have seen plenty of cases like this. For all they know, I would lift the charges and be back with him tomorrow or even later on that night. I didn’t feel protected. This whole relationship I didn’t feel protected. Hell, my whole life I never felt protected by a man, that’s what I always seek for…

I moved back in with my Mom and made a v0w to myself that I would never allow myself to go through that again.

It’s been 7 months since then and I have to say, I feel great.

I’m getting closer to God. I gained my confidence back. I even met a new man. (flips hair💁🏽)

That situation played a part into the woman I am today. Right now. I learned so much about myself and about him as well. That whole relationship set the whole tone and mood for 2016. I spent the first few months in the relationship feeling as low as low can get. And once I got out the relationship, I spent those next few months building myself back up. When I moved back I ran into other problems. No money, couldn’t find a job. No car. Bank account in the negatives every month. No motivation to do anything but sit on the couch all day and just lay there. I didn’t speak to anyone. I just kept replaying what happened in my head.

It’s kind of crazy how after the storm pass you start to see things for what they are. You take it at face value. The signs you ignored stand out a little more. The little “what ifs” you thought about play out exactly how you envisioned them.

I use to walk with my head down. I didn’t dare look any man in the eye because it always made me nervous.

Today I come to you as a woman. A strong woman. A woman who no more tolerates bullshit. A woman who now stands tall. I know my worth. I know who I am. I no longer seek validation from anyone, but most important, a man.

I realized that I was also a apart of the problem. I had baggage. I had deep rooted problems that I could only solve, and for me to do that I had to face them- or for this matter, him. My father.

Was a X a bad man? No. He had baggage. Something all of us have. It’s just he never took the time to sort through them and work through his problems and neither did I. We looked to each other to fix our most deep rooted issues, when in reality that was something we had to do on our own. Everyone makes mistakes. My dad wasn’t throughout my whole life, but again, that doesn’t make him a bad man.

Am I completely healed? No. But I am way better than what I was. My issues didn’t show until I got into relationships. That’s when I saw apart of me that I hid from the world. The vulnerable side. The side that just wanted to feel loved and accepted. I just wanted to feel beautiful.

That little girl in me needed to be healed. And she was.

If you or anyone you know has been through this just know it gets better. It took so much prayer for me to get to where I am today. And if you aren’t that religious, that’s okay, just talk about it. Write about it. We shouldn’t suppress our emotions. It happened. That’s okay. We live and we learn. Trial and error. Overall, we grow.

We don’t talk about abuse enough, and when we do, it’s physical.

We never talk the emotional and verbal part. Those leave scares too. Just as much and sometimes just as longer as the physical. You just can’t see them. Whoever said, “stick and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me,” they freaking lied. Words DO hurt!

We have to be aware and get involved and ask questions. And if you are the person in the relationship getting abused, I pray you find yourself and get out safe. I know some situations are different and harder than others, but please be safe.

I’ve been yelled at, called ALL kinds of names, pinned up against walls and doors and beds, threatened. I’ve been pinned down on the bed and had X yell to me, “should I start hitting you.” I’ve even been pinned down to the bed once and was asked, “Is this what you want!” while a loaded gun was pointed at his own head, with a bullet ready to go off at any moment. So many hurtful things has been said to me, that I’m only good enough to get raped and that I was the cause of my father getting so high on drugs.

All that. Yet, I never cried in front of him when he said hurtful things like that to me. I just kept cursing at him and arguing.

I could have been dead. It was a gun in the apartment, always in his possession and whenever he got mad, he would pace back and forth with it. Or I could have just got beat.

I too was once someone who said, “that could never be me,” and then it happened.

Abuse has no name on it.

Whether it’s verbal, emotional or physical abuse, reach out and tell someone and get help.

I pray this post touched someone today who has been through this and if your the one getting abused reading this, I pray this gave you the strength and courage you need to leave.

I learned what life was. My own definition. It’s a test. Before, I saw no reason for life, I didn’t understand it and at one point I didn’t even care to. But now, today, I have a whole new meaning. Life has taught me who I am. It taught me how strong I am.

I am forever thankful for my experience I went through.

I left a situation many never do and are silenced about. I got through it.

With faith and strength I forgave him and I also forgave my father after all these years.

I even forgave myself. I now have the power many people and men had over me and I was afraid to have and take back my whole life.

I am better. I am here.