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I am excited to bring you this guest post by the amazing Shero Stephanie King. Please be advised that in an effort to maintain the emotional integrity of this post we have chosen to publish it in the unedited version with adult language included. Please know this post is from a real person discussing her real situation. It does contain strong language and may be a trigger for some with similar experiences.
The Abuse
3 hours
That’s how long I was held hostage in our bedroom because I wouldn’t unlock my phone.
For 3 hours I was screamed at, belittled, and accused of being a whore.
He bought that phone. He owned that phone. He paid the bill for the phone. He deserved to have full access to my phone, at his command.
He made sure to show me several times that the walk-in closet door was locked, all the windows, and both bedroom doors were locked. The sheets and pillows were pulled off the bed from where I was laying, trying to hide my tears of fear. My dressers were emptied, pictures knocked off the wall and the fireplace mantel.
I was a lying, fucking, cheating whore.
Truth is… I was protecting a secret. But, it was someone else’s secret. It wasn’t my information to share. With anyone.
Someone had called me earlier. I excused myself and went outside to talk in private. I listened as this person humbly discussed their misfortune. This person trusted me to keep my mouth shut. I offered my love, my strength, my guidance. We hung up.
A couple hours later I was stirred out of my sleep to unlock my phone. I refused. An argument ensued.
3 grueling hours we argued. Until he passed out. On the floor, in front of the bedroom door. My phone still in his hand.
Freedom
Today, I finally was able to get rid of that phone.
Today I said goodbye to the last piece of evidence to that chapter in my life. ✌?
Do NOT feel bad for me. Through the help of my tribe: my amazing friends, my mom, and my kids, I’m in the best place that I have ever been in my entire life. ❤️???? (Well, at least emotionally, spiritually, and financially ??♀️??♀️?)
I don’t hate men. I don’t hate drunks. But, I do hate narcissists. Actually, I can’t even hate people with narcissism. I feel sad for them. There is no fixing a narcissist. There is no magic pill. Therapy is waste of time, money, and energy because “they aren’t the problem. It’s everyone else’s fault.” They never accept responsibility for their actions, unless it’s to guilt or manipulate or gaslight.
From the day I left I wanted to blast his ass on FB. I wanted to embarrass him and humiliate him as much as he did to me. I cringed every time a mutual friend “liked” his posts or said congratulations when he married his secretary, less than 4 months after I left the house of horror.
I’m pretty flipping proud of myself for maintaining so much self control, tbh. ??♀️
I will not be defined by that chapter of my story. I am not broken. I am not damaged goods. I am not a victim. I am not a survivor.
I am a woman. A mom. A grandma. A friend. A daughter. A colleague. And a lover. A lover of all people and all things. I just love to love ?
And yes, I’m learning to love myself.
I was 40ish and on birth control for the first time in my life because he teased that he was going to trap me with a child.
I was on antidepressants because I almost drove myself into a wall because he wouldn’t stop stalking and harassing me.
I was on medication for anxiety because I was to the point where I was jumping out of my skin at the sound of police cars, motorcycles, random fireworks going off.
I was a walking zombie. I was emotionally numb. Me. The one who used to cry at flipping Hallmark commercials. Had only cried tears of frustration and fear.
Thriving
I’ve been medication-free for 3 months and I couldn’t be happier. When our kitty Jack died, I cried in front of Erin. (She was in shock and told me she doesn’t remember ever seeing me cry.) I saw a dear friend at the AT&T store this afternoon and my eyes swelled up with tears as she was telling me a heartwarming story.
It is amazing to FEEL ALIVE again. ??
I now LOVE the sounds of sirens, the rumbling of motorcycles, and most importantly fireworks. Even the ones shot off in the hood, in October… for no apparent reason. ?
I truly believe that “the final stage of healing is using what happens to you to help other people.” I’m pretty sure I’m there. Within the last 3 weeks I’ve used my experience to be able to truly listen and understand, inspire, offer hope, and just hug random friends/acquaintances who had reached out to me, and had no idea what I had lived through. Guuuurl, I truly mean it when I say “I gotchu.”
I have so many mind blowing stories. Maybe I’ll share one or all or none of them. Who knows?
I’ve been so hesitant to share any part of my story. I was ashamed. I felt like a sucka. I have spent enough time and energy questioning and judging myself, I didn’t want any of you to have that option. I didn’t want to be vulnerable. But I’m ready.
I do NOT want your sympathy… Or to be looked at differently, grilled about why I didn’t just unlock the damn phone or how/why I let that happen to me, why I didn’t leave earlier or why
I never followed through with the police the 4 times I called or found myself in the SPD lobby. My tribe knows the truth and that’s all that matters.
I’m sharing it now bc 1 out 4 women are experiencing some kind of shit that just isn’t right. Girl, listen to your gut. If it doesn’t feel right, it’s not right. Trust yourself.
I’m sharing it now bc I’m available to talk. (Just not on the phone bc my ears are still stuffy ??♀️???) but seriously… it’s my first full week off from both jobs in a year and I have nothing planned except some lunch dates and grandbaby snuggles. ?
I’m sharing it now bc I do miss my feistiness. Just because I’m feisty, doesn’t mean I deserved it.
I’m sharing it now bc my kids deserve to see me be bold and brave again.
I’m sharing it now because I’m no longer afraid.
Fear has controlled my life for too long and I’m done. I’m done being comfortable. I’m done being scared to make my next move.
Goodbye you miserable fuck of a phone! ?? and good riddance to everything crappy you symbolized in my life. ✌?
Thank you so much for sharing your story Stephanie. It takes real courage to be so raw and vulnerable about your experiences. Thank you for being willing to let us all know that we are not alone. You are an amazing warrior woman who knows her worth! I am proud to know you.
Hi! Stumbled upon this on Pinterest. I cried, felt pain that still resonates inside me from years of mental, physical, emotional and financial abuse after a 23 year marriage crumbled. I discovered my husband was having an affair with someone I knew, then wanted to “fix” us. He quit counseling because he’s never been able to admit his downfalls or communicate with me. Word games, if you will. I had to ask the “right” question, which would take hours for him to properly wordsmith a response so as not admit anything. He went back to her. She ended it after being tired of waiting. He started another affair with a much younger woman he met at our church. She had two small children, our only was 17. He told me he didn’t love me anymore, but would always have feelings for me since I was the mother of our child. I talked to our Pastor about their infidelities and asked why it was being allowed in church. Well, he said, even sinners need a place to worship. Both continued to worship there, yet I, embarrassingly left. After I confronted them, she ended it. He went on to yet another younger woman. My father became terminally ill and I was inseparable from his bedside for four months. The affair continued. I caught her dropping him off late night in a Walmart parking lot when I stopped to get my father some food he wanted as he lay dying in hospice. She ended it when I showed her texts that he was sending me saying he loved me, wanted to work things out, etc, all the while seeing her. I can count on one hand how many times he visited my father before his death. After his funeral, our daughter went off to college for the first time. I moved to my fathers home to be safe and heal. Hardest thing I’ve done. His affairs started in 2015. In 2017 he served me with separation papers. Mediation failed. He’s humiliated me publicly, turned me against all of his family, all of our friends and neighbors. I became the bad guy. My father passed in 2019. I’m still not divorced. Financially ruined and still struggling mentally on how to resolve our issues, move forward with the divorce, and become free. Sad, but true! Side note – he’s a cop in the city where we live, and knows everyone in the judicial system. I’ve never received fairness in the legal system because of who he is and what he does. There are no systems in place to help victims like me, married to a cop. It’s absolutely insane! I sit and listen to our world as we focus on racial or gender differences, yet can’t find justice within my own community. So, I sit alone and struggle, day after day. Thank you for posting your story!