A little about me

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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/

Thursday, May 8, 2014

Call me Master- Chapter 7 to 9- My story of escaping abuse

Chapter 7

Need for speed

The competitive nature was very high for Rob, losing was never an option and he was a terrible sport if he lost anything. His had an ongoing thirst for speed while driving him or if he were in the driver’s seat.

Many of his friends would not drive with him because he was known to be very reckless. While a teenager he had once hit a large cardboard box for an appliance someone had placed out for trash day, thinking it was empty, the box was actually holding the old appliance for trash day, he hit it going rather quickly, losing his driving privileges for many months.

On one occasion in 1995, during the hottest period of time in the Midwest history, I was working in the city of Chicago and extremely pregnant with our first, since we only had one vehicle that was his truck to get him to work; I was riding the train and bus.

From time to time if Rob was in the area, he would pick me up from the train station. This particular hot afternoon, there was a city bus that Rob complained was tailgating him. He moved over to the next lane to allow the bus to go past. But the bus appeared to be riding alongside us. Rob grew irritated as this went on for over a number of miles.

Both the bus driver and Rob were making hostile hand gestures towards one another, both speeding and Rob began weaving in and out of traffic. His excuse for this dangerous behavior was that he was defending my honor.

The situation escalated 3 blocks away from our home. Rob had been attempting to turn into the right lane, but the bus driver would slow down or go faster so we couldn't move over. Rob stepped on the gas, giving the wheel a hard right, cutting the bus off as he turned onto our street, almost coming to a complete stop off the side of the road!

Both vehicles crept slowly along with a game and cat and mouse still continuing between both men. Neither relenting nor just letting things go.

Rob slammed on the brakes causing the bus to come to a screeching halt we settled across the street from our home. I asked him what he was doing, but Rob didn't answer he jumped out of the truck, he grabbed something from the back of the pick-up that was just out of my field of vision, inside the window I could see the driver frantically animated as Rob stormed to the front of the bus, he punched the window several times with his fist causing it to crack about 10 inches in diameter.

Both men yelling at one another, I could hear the siren scream from a police car approaching closer.
The bus driver was still on the phone was someone, Rob ran from the driver side of the bus to the passenger side, raising a hatchet high in the air. This was the item I couldn't view earlier! I was sat in disbelief and feeling stunned at the absurdity unfolding.

A police car quickly pulled up and an officer hurriedly came out of the vehicle approaching the escalated scene, with both men still yelling at one another. The officer pulled Rob away, advising him to go back to his truck and he would speak to him after he speaks to the bus driver.
Rob immediately piled on the charm, sounding very convincing as he tried to talk to the officer, before he went to begin questioning the bus driver, the officer, appearing very professional advised both of us to remain in the vehicle.

Rob was seething with anger! He spoke to me in hushed angry tones, telling me not to say much to the officers about anything and if I do, I had better defend him.

I fidgeted anxiously, I also had to pee like a racehorse, the over hour long ride from the train, being very pregnant and now the heated issue with the driver was making me shift uncomfortably in my seat, which in turn caused Rob to glare at me and loudly scolding me for seeming guilty.

Another squad car had pulled up to assess the situation, he walked over after a brief chat with the other officer, who then nodded our way while proceeding to approach Rob’s work truck slowly and cautiously. Rob grabbed my hand and whispered under his breath to let him do the talking.

The officer advised Rob to get out of the truck so he can hear his side of the story, the officer looked at me, telling me to stay in the vehicle and he would get some information from me. Both Rob and the bus driver were still loud and animated towards one another. Rob telling the officer that the driver had cut us off and he was just trying to get us home, as his wife, me, had a long ride and was needing to get home.

The officers stayed calm and cool, nodding appropriately from time to time in unison. All at once Rob was told to turn around, and the first officer told me Rob was going to be arrested for assault and damaging the vehicle.

I was free to leave, much to my relief in more than one way!

Rob stayed for several hours in the local jail to cool off and he had to post bail. His uncle was called into the picture to clean up the incident, which also expunged the incident from Rob’s record. He ended up having to pay for the broken window and community service for a number of weeks.

The situation was never brought up again. Rob’s story remained that he was did it for my honor. His driving actions still continue to be one with an occasional sprinkling of road rage like a ticking bomb waiting to explode.

Years later, it was not uncommon for him to reach over pull the steering wheel from me or put his foot over the gas pedal pushing my foot down to go faster or cut someone off. I would cringe anytime he told me to drive. If I were driving and not driving adequately to his standards, he would jerk the wheel to the side of the road and yell at me to get out so he could drive.

I have been pushed, shoved, punched in the head slamming it into the window to the point where I swore the window would break. I have had my ankle sprained, smashed fingers because he had caught in the door when he slammed it on me.

Even a simple pleasure of washing a car wasn't left for what it was. Washing the cars included detailing the vehicle for hours. No streaks allowed on the windows! But that is another story!



Chapter 8

“BREATHE. . .”

1995 thru present

The Trophy Wife

I was closely scrutinized from the top down. My hair, clothes, walk, physical appearance and even how I sneezed. Nothing was ever good enough.

I was told he wanted “The wife man wanted”. Good looking, dressed to the “Nines”.

Perfect.

In honesty, my body was showing signs of age. I had no modifications and only considered a tummy tuck after the kids came along. Rob had numbers for a plastic surgeon, to tuck, nip and lift various body parts.

He would ramble- "Your teeth are so crooked. You need braces" ~ I stopped smiling really big for a while, especially if he was around. I grew paranoid about my teeth and smile. I have a funny ear that Rob wanted repaired. On one hand there was some credence to his ramblings as the hearing is gone and perhaps with technology being as it is it could be fixed.

I walked like a horse- He would say, "When I walk with you stop walking like fucking horse. You gallop when you walk when I have my arm across your shoulders! Can't you walk normal?! Stop your fucking bouncing shit when you walk!"

I was too short and I walked like a duck- “"What the hell?! Can't you walk with your feet in?! You walk like a damn duck!"

My breasts weren’t perky or big-"Hey Droopy tits! I'm going to get you a boob job" he would rant.
Or he would say-

"Damn circles under your eyes. Put something on your eyes!"

"Don't tilt your head like that, I can see your double chin, fucking pig"

"You’re again sweating like a disgusting pig"-I'm a profuse sweater. I have always hated that! He refused to hold my hand because of this.

"You’re such a lazy fat pig"

"Worthless"

"Get a fucking job you lazy spic"

"You’re just good for one job on your back or on your knees"

"Men are pigs, they won't want you for anything else but a fuck"

I wasn’t a blonde or red head. So, I colored my hair to appeal to his lust for a woman with that hair color. I would wear a wig in the bedroom to appease him.

I shaved parts of my body to make him happy. I wore clothes I would never wear normally. I would exercise for hours while he was gone. I ate like a bird and despite all of that I could never lose enough or look good enough for him.

My sock were awful. I wore plain colored socks nothing fun.

I never was good enough.

I was an embarrassment to him.

I would never be able to live up to this dream person because that isn’t me. I was just pretending as best I could to live up to his dream.



Chapter 9
“How you speak to your children, becomes their inner voice” – Unknown

Children and abuse

During my pregnancies I was kicked in the stomach, told that he wished the baby would die in my belly and me along with it. Sometimes I had wished his words would come true.
I would physically feel a tiny flutter and the baby jump every time he raised his voice.

What life was I bringing them into this mess?

My children have suffered with me. I regret not leaving him sooner. I don't regret my children but I feel very responsible for what they went through.

I have seen my children in many states of emotion during their young lives. I have seen them cling to one another for dear life as they would watch in horror as their father would assault me.

I will never know exactly what happened when I was at work. They never speak about those times. My daughters state that Rob had threatened them never to tell Mom about what went on when I was not home.

The look on their face and their eyes would show fear, hate and disgust in a flash of a second. Knowing that to get in between he and I could be dangerous during an argument.

My middle daughter, at the young age of 6 years old with her tiny fists clinched in tight little balls beating on her father's back and shoulder's on more occasions then I choose to remember.

I could hear her pleading and begging him to please stop, leave my Mom alone! Please Dad stop!
My son would try to intervene to get her to stop as this would cause Rob to become more enraged.
Rob would choke or kick me harder, knowing that they were upset and to prove some sick point. During the assault I would try to protect them so they wouldn't get hurt, asking him, somehow to please stop, not in front of the kids.

I would say, “Let’s go to our room, so the kids don’t get upset”, while trying to gain some composure. Knowing how wild and broken I must look. Holding back tears to reassure the kids I was OK.

I have so much respect for those kids, they tried so hard to protect me. They would dry my tears if they're father wasn't around. They would hug me and gently tell me everything would be OK. All were angry and sad not knowing what words to comfort me.

Jess, sometimes brought me ice, tending to my wounds, even if they were only wounds from a broken heart. Many times Matt would watch over Alex as she would just go into a state of quiet tears and fear. I could hear him trying to ease her pain that it will be OK, while petting her head or rocking her. The next minute he would get angry himself about the things he father did or does.

Their tiny faces so etched with fear and worry, they shouldn't have to at their age.

They should be kids, running outside, playing and just enjoying their lives. Not having to worrying about me.

They shouldn't have to worry about their own physical safety.

After an argument between Rob and me, I would find them huddled together praying quietly, all crying and trying to console one another.

We each had dreams of getting away.

They actually admitted that they had day dreams of the father they wanted.

Someone that would make them laugh, someone that would like baseball and some sports a little.

Someone that liked fishing, camping, that wouldn't yell or hit them, that wouldn't call them names, such as, stupid or dumbass.

They wanted someone to love them unconditionally and not hit me. I yearned to make their wishes come true and prayed that their Dad would turn around.

As the years flew by prayers unanswered. I knew if we didn't leave soon I would be leave in a wooden box, leaving the children in the hands of a madman.


Chapter 10 coming soon. . .

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