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Brook, IN, United States
Abuse doesn't stop at the court room. Melinda has shared her battles in her life and through the court room as she navigates through the legal system Bringing encouragement, insight and empowerment to those that are in a abusive relationship. She is in the process of creating a new life, speaking engagements to "Break the Silence" of abuse, while putting a face to abuse. She is currently working on writing a book about her experiences as a Survivor.View short Bio here- https://www.patheos.com/blogs/ahappymedium/2013/02/notbrokenbutbrave/

Monday, March 28, 2011

Remembering

July 22, 2009
More and more memories have been coming to mind lately. Things I had forgotten. I remember when I started to hate small places. Why I panic when something is covering my face. They both go hand and hand...69 and a 285 lb man is never a good thing.

I had the images the other day and I recall crying for him to get off of me, I couldn't breath, he just kept hollaring for me to shut up and keep sucking his *ick. (His words) I was panicking! I recall him biting me because I was crying. It was horrible anytime he asked me to do that and I dreaded it. I believe he got morbid pleaure out of smothering me. We stopped kissing one another a long time ago. I kept getting sick! I would tell him that I must be allergic to him. There's more hygiene related issues with his mouth but I won't go there.

I have had some bad dreams, I see R's face looming in the dark as if waiting to pounce. I remember him kicking me in the tailbone while I was painting in the back corner of the antique shop. I wasn't going fast enough! It really smarted but I had to suck back my tears while apologizing for not going quicker and I would try to work faster.

In many ways I hate that place! I love the people but hate it at the same time. I know how much blood, sweat and tears I put in that place literally. How many times I just sat in a dark corner of the back chocking my tears down or trying to cover up a bruise he left. I was worried his sister would say something to him about it, by telling anyone there would be hell to pay later.

I recall him coming home many times with a smile that would turn into a picture of hatred and anger in seconds. There was no reason, or the reasons sounded outlandish. A soggy sandwich, not enough ice in his water jug, the sun shined too much and gave him a headache...

How many times I literally had my back to the wall with his hands around my neck. Lord I don't miss that! He doesn't remember hitting me before we left him in February, he remembers nothing, not the kicking, threats, head banging or nasty words he would say.

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