Valerie's Physical Abuse Story

Having known him since childhood, Valerie was thoroughly shocked when her boyfriend started being mean during her first pregnancy. This is her physical abuse story:

After knowing this man since youth, Valerie soon found that she didn't 'know' him at all. He changed from the friend she'd always thought she had into a manipulative man who couldn't care less about her (or their newborn son's) welfare. While her postnatal depression worsened, no help was to be found. It was only during a short break from their relationship that Valerie realised how badly she had been treated, and she only realised that this was a monstrous man who she couldn't bear him raising her child.

My abuse started quick and ended quick; it is something that I will never forget, but I am someone that got out.

Me and him knew each other since childhood we were good friends, he always had a crush on me, but I was too young to understand. As the years went by, we both went our own ways, but still remained friends. There were a few times we dated, but I was never really that into him, then when we were a bit older we started dating again. Before we knew it we were in a relationship. I soon fell pregnant. It all happened so fast, within weeks of my pregnancy I found out he'd cheated on me. It crushed me. I was so hurt and confused I didn't know why he would do that when he claimed to love me for so long. He made his excuses and said he was also drunk when he impregnated me, which never really satisfied me.

I decided to try the relationship again. I was pregnant and wanted to give it that chance. Throughout my pregnancy he was fine and calmed down, but he wasn't really taking on the role and responsibility like I hoped. I didn't feel he took it seriously.

Soon came the rows and my paranoia: you can forgive someone for cheating, but you never really forget. I hated him for it. I didn't understand why he would chase me all those years to do that to me, the trust was gone, I no longer looked at him the same, his excuses and story never made real sense and there were still too many unanswered questions. He remained in the same surroundings, around the same people, drinking too much. There was no real change, so my insecurities just grew, the arguments got worse, then started his temper.

He would throw things, smash things and completely trash the house. Soon I gave birth to our son, but it did not change him. He was always out, never helped, and constantly criticised me as I found it hard. My paranoia got worse, he showed me no love, no affection, he didn't help. I felt trapped, the arguments continued, he started with throwing things at me (forks, knifes, a car seat, anything that was in his view), then came the grabbing, pushing, pulling hair; the first time he really hit me hard was awful. He hit me so hard in my face my eye split. It was swollen and bruised and I had to avoid contact with family and friends for 2 or so weeks. He was nice the whole time, did everything, helped out, even openly admitted to cheating on me a 2nd time! At this point, I lost all respect for him.

The nice guy didn't last long. Before I knew it he was constantly hitting me, manipulating me, putting me down, everything I did was wrong stupid or not quit right. I stopped going out, stopped making effort with myself, my whole life was looking after our son and trying to please him. I was never happy with him, I just felt trapped. I was constantly tired, run down and tearful. He did not like that he wanted a superwomen all I wanted was for him to play his part. I called the health visitor who diagnosed me with postnatal depression. Somehow he made it about him and how hard life was to him. He still continued to beat me at my lowest - in fact the beatings got worse: more often and he got less apologetic. He blamed them on me, "my pathetic depression, my paranoia and my stupid ways."

He was so clever and manipulating, he would have me begging him not to leave me, he had me right were he wanted me, I just couldn't accept the man I'd known for so long who I'd grown to love and have our first child together was a nasty self-centred manipulating woman beater. It was easy to accept it was my hormones and insecurities, but he was getting too violent, too confident. He did what he wanted when he wanted, I was getting worse and he seemed to enjoy it as "I was the mad one". I was constantly crying, unstable and in another world, scared to say wrong, scared to do wrong, needing his help and support, but manipulated for showing it.

What I did not see was that it was him making me depressed and feeling useless, yet he was the one person I wanted around. The rows were getting too much too often, so we took a break. I started to pull myself together, I started to cope with motherhood and bonded with my son. I was finally aware no longer in a daze, I felt better than I had in a while, but I wanted my family all together. I thought that things would be different, that a break could of helped. We got back together and the abuse started within a week. He was to used to it, too set in his ways, seeing no other solution. But I'd changed. I'd pulled myself together. I'd seen that I could cope and that me and my son were better of without him. I couldn't bring my son up in a environment like that. I was finally seeing sense. It was the last straw that day when he threw a table at me; my son was in the room and that table could have hit him. Enough was enough!

After that, I had to deal with the mental abuse. He was still in my head, he was still making me believe it was my fault, my ways that set him off, although I knew his beatings were too much, I questioned that if I'd just of kept quiet, would they have happened?!? But that's no way to live. I'm still seeking help for the abuse as I still partially think I provoked situations. I need to get that out of my head, but it is still so raw, so I'm taking all the help and advice given. I can honestly say I never thought I'd end up in that place. I was such a strong, happy, independent, confident woman, but you can never judge unless you have been there.

In the end I chose to leave for my son, which is crazily enough why I stayed. I wanted my son to have a family, I wanted to make it work, I hoped he'd see sense, but it doesn't work that way, it just gets worse. All the reasons why I thought I should stay were actually all the reasons why I had to leave. A broken family is better than a life-time of unhappiness beatings and torture. What would I do if my son ended up like him!?!? I'm taking each day at a time enjoying my son and watching him learn and grow. All the abuse happened within over a year and I'm glad it's over. It will take time, but I am now ready for the next chapter in my life. I've learned, I've grown, and I have a beautiful son. I will only carry the positives from that part of my life; he's nothing but a stranger to me now. I guess he always was, as I never knew him at all.

~ Valerie.