Part 2: The Aftermath

This is a follow-up post about my life experiences…or hardest lessons learned…that took place last week, you can find my original post here. I have personally gone back and re-read that post multiple times because of the responses that I have received. I am genuinely disgusted that there were so many women that felt as though they could relate, and I mean that in the best way, but when you think about it and when you experience abuse yourself, you just know and would hope that it wouldn’t be that common.

Nonetheless, my goal for this article is to address the complete emotional roller coaster that I have been riding since Tuesday night, and why it is so important to address it. Part 1 had been written with an attempt at clarity and focus so that others could understand and hopefully feel how I had felt in that exact moment, but it was also written in one of my rawest and honest points in my life as well. Raw would be the correct word to use, not only does it describe that post but it also describes how I felt for the following days.

I wasn’t just going through a break up which can be difficult enough for the average Jane, but my mind was trying to process exactly what happened and trying to make sense of why it happened. Let me tell you, that why factor will drive any person insane. I started contemplating all the different signs I was given but totally ignored in an attempt to “work on us”. How I had totally left myself unprepared to take care of myself financially despite the fact that I had originally moved with a decent savings. How easily anyone can become blinded by a vision and the feeling of being loved when they hadn’t felt that in a partner in what had felt like a long time.

Let’s start there, financially. Within two days of relocating I had began working and also had a savings that I had built before moving and also splurged with on the way to Dallas, I mean we stayed in San Diego for a day before driving 22 hours to Dallas, it was all in fun right? And in the back of my head, if anything happened, I knew he would have my back as he “always did”. I still had money in my bank account at the time of arrival and we spent time together by eating at restaurants and sometimes walking through the malls and around the city exploring which of course lead to some spending, but not much. What really lead to my dismay was literally 3 weeks after moving, he had received a call that he got laid off his job. I tried to keep spirits high and encourage him to stay positive, you know, I could handle the bills for a little while until he became stable again…I mean, if it was me, he would do the same, right?

Magically, my savings disappeared and we were living by my check week after week, which I sincerely did not complain about. My thoughts were if it were me, he would do the same so I didn’t see a reason to argue about it, especially since we had already began the other petty arguments, I just didn’t see a reason to bring it up. All in all, the biggest picture was that I was sacrificing all of my resources into another man’s home that literally wasn’t mine. I was new there and in the back of my head before moving, there was always that warning from my consciousness to be prepared if it didn’t work, hence my initial savings, but once I was here I was completely love struck and I considered this a minor set back. I can own up to this and admit that on my end I failed in this department, despite my family’s warnings.

Fast-forward to now, and not only did I just give him money to help fix the AC the night of the incident but I had to wait until my pay day to start  saving for the possibility of a roommate. This is where a flood of emotion hits me every single damn time, because I know how easy it would be to use the money I had and turn around to drive back to California. I wasn’t just sad, I was PISSED. This motherfucker had no regard for how his actions (before the assault and after) affected my life (and my family’s lives) overall, I mean in so many aspects I don’t even want to begin to list them. I can admit I am still immensely angry and I have a personal sought out vendetta for him, to make him an example for all the woman that had been manipulated and abused, to make sure that he doesn’t feel like he just got away with attempting to play me like a fool and leave my arms, leg, left eye and nose bruised and swollen in the process. I have already taken the necessary steps to press charges and I plan on sticking with them. Which means in short that I am staying in Dallas to pursue these charges in court and unlike he probably smugly thinks, I did not run back home just yet nor do I plan to.

To give an understanding, and I mean it is so hard to explain it in an organized way, I was crying literally every single hour for three days after the incident happened. Sniffling quietly at my desk at work, bawling in my car at lunch, and choking through tears on the phone while talking to my family. I had been abandoned with so much disregard, but I wasn’t gone. I am happy to report now, five days later, that I didn’t cry once today. To me, that is a big step in the right direction, I cannot let someone who cares so little about me continue to have an invisible hold on me.

Like I had mentioned before, I was fortunate to have some distant family that lived near by and I have come to find a new friend and confidant with great advice. She tells me some things along these lines “you have to respect the process, everything happens for a reason, and good decisions are made under patient circumstances not hasty moves.” All of which has been extremely helpful, encouraging, and thought-provoking. So, currently, that is where I am at. Spending some time contemplating why I want to pursue pressing charges, and I can admit it is coming from a place of anger, hurt from betrayal, and a tad bit of yeah, motherfucker I’m still here and you’re not getting away with your actions that easily. I have also have to channel more of that energy into looking for places near my job (which has been a whole different adventure in itself….there’s so many perverts out there and I even came across a racist that claimed that all Muslim’s steal and plan to slit people’s throats…which you know sat oh so well with me and my father’s Islamic background) and part time work to supplement my income.

Again, it’s about honoring the process, acknowledging that things happen for a reason, and I am most definitely thinking hard before giving my money for place to stay.

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