Patrick Stewart, Domestic Violence

My husband shared this link on Facebook today, it should have come with a warning. So I'll warn you now, this will be hard for you in some spots. Well, those of you with a heart.

I am a Star Trek fan, not a Trekkie, but a fan. Coward and I would watch The Next Generation religiously when it was on, with him doing a flight simulation with his hand to the theme song. That descriptive last sentence was to tell you that my memory of those days, is sharp and clear. There is no me misconstruing or twisting things to paint myself in a certain light, what I've shared here is REAL & the TRUTH. I share things here to share the story of me, of what happened to me, my life and my body. I also share to let other women, girls, men too--know that they're not alone. I share because if what you read makes you rethink things, and recall those moments where your inner voice told you this is wrong...then I've helped one person not live through what I had to. I have saved someone.

I've always been a fan of Patrick Stewart, aka Jean Luc Picarad, he always came across to me as; strong, intelligent and if I was lost he would be the kind of guy to save me. The following video is where Patrick Stewart is asked by a fan about his childhood and how Patrick's mother was a victim of domestic violence. All those things I thought of Patrick Stewart, we're spot on--and my respect for him has multiplied a million times.


BTW watch it ALL the way to the end.

Sexual interest in pubescent and adolescent individuals–Coward of California, this is you.

I walked on eggshells every day. It was a coin toss whether Coward was going to be a good mood or bad when he came home. I swear I could sense it sometimes miles before he reached our house. If I had other people there, he would instantly slap on his, “I’m awesome” mask and play the dutiful and loving boyfriend. It didn’t matter that I kept a clean house, a beautiful yard, made homemade meals, kept myself attractive, and pleasured him sexually almost daily; it was never enough. I know that honestly it never could be enough, because it wasn’t about me, it was about what was wrong with him.

I’m the oldest of several sisters’; little did I know this would be heaven for someone like him who desired young teen or pre-pubescent girls. I would ask my sisters, friends or my mother to come over to eat dinner, watch shows, play card or board games…whatever it would take to get someone to be there to help buffer his moods. His favorite guest, were my two younger sisters; especially the youngest. One of the two younger sister’s didn’t like Coward, and told me, ‘he was creepy and gave her the hebbie jeebies.” I dismissed it as she just didn’t like him, and brushed it aside. Later when one of my best friends whom I’m still friends with, point blank said she did not trust or like Coward and that she too got the hebbie jeebies from him;  “she must be gay” was his response about her feelings. It was never Coward, it was always something with them. Oh Coward, we still laugh about this line, that’s some funny narcissistic shit there.

I soon understood just how much he liked my littlest sister when she stayed the night once. She was a sleep on the couch in the living room when she awoke with a nightmare. Since she was frightened and it was the middle of the night, I told her to crawl into bed with me and that Coward would take the couch. No, he would not be doing that; he wanted to sleep in the bed with her too, and between us. He wanted to sleep between my 20 year old self and my 13 year old sister. I let him, oh my god I let him. I was thinking more along the lines of he sees her as his little sister, so it’s ok. Soon after I fell asleep I found his hand downs my panties trying to get me wet, and he wanted me to masturbate him, while he slept next to my little sister. I did not get him off, and told him it was probably better if I slept between them after all. He was angry, but he didn’t want to wake her so he agreed to it. I would find the next day when making the bed his shirt from the floor sticky as he had masturbated while I was asleep. I would never let that bed situation happen again. EVER.

About 9 months or so after I had kicked him out, my littlest sister was living in Madera with her infant son. She called me to tell me that Coward knew a mutual friend of hers and had tracked her down her phone number and he had called to ask her out. She rebuffed him instantly, and was sickened that he would ask her out after dating her sister. Also she didn’t like him and thought he was creepy and unattractive, besides the fact that he dated her sister once. He was on a mission to obtain something that he’d been after, since she was 10 years old when he first met her…thank god he never succeeded.

Blaming the Victim-- Just-World Hypothesis

In one of my Psychology classes we learned about a theory called, Just-world hypothesis.   I've put the link to the page for you to read it in more detail. To summarize what the just-world hypothesis is about is this.: People blame the victim because they feel that they would never put themselves into the situations I've shared here. They would have left Coward, called the police, told everyone and anyone what was going on behind closed doors. I must have done something to justify being beat, humiliated, scarred physically for life. This is how those that protect Coward and his actions justify their loyalties. When the bombing in, Boston happened it scared you because it was so random and therefore the people that were hurt by the terrorist didn't deserve it. But domestic abuse, rape, etc could happen to you as a woman or man and it scares you, therefore you turn your fear to blame. When you're scared you start to rationalize the actions of Coward. There is no excuse for what he did to anyone. There's no making it ok what he did to me and others, including my daughter and the baby that Cindy was forced to abort. I don't care how many ice creams cones, closets of clothes, or love letters he writes...it will NEVER be okay to protect an abuser. This includes even if you don't like the person he abused, what he did was WRONG.     WOMEN ARE NOT GUILTY FOR VIOLENCE COMMITTED BY MEN ON OUR BODY, MIND, AND SPIRIT. THIS VIOLENCE HAPPENS BECAUSE OF MEN'S GREATER POWER AND THEIR MISUSE OF THAT POWER. If you search Just -world hypothesis you would find a vast amount of information on the subject matter.

Filing a report against your abuser

It was suggested to me that while the statue of limitations was passed on making a report of domestic violence, I do so anyhow. It would not be the same as making a report where they could arrest him, but it would go in a file and if anyone comes forward with new charges, it will trigger a red flag.  After I told stories of the physical and mental abuse, the officer taking my report told me with not only his words but with his face that he was deeply sorry for what I went through. I think it’s just one of the steps, I need to take in order to move forward. I know that for myself I am seeking contrition from Coward, for the acts of violence against me and the other’s. I said so too;I’m seeking contrition for us all. This isn’t just about me and how it's affected me, because I know that domestic violence is far reaching. I would suggest you speak to your mental health provider before attempting this, but I know that for myself it was cathartic.

 If I would have reported him for having sex with me when I was 17 and he was 21 he would have served time for a felony. The penalty increases if the perpetrator is more than three years older than the victim, and I was.  Not including that if the other’s girls would have reported him, he would have been in there for a very long time for sex with them when they were minors as well. I knew at least one of the girls before me was even younger than me, she was 16. This is just for the statuary rape; this isn’t even about the domestic violence he committed against us, three major players in his game of Coward, bully- of women.

Our voices could have made him serve time, and kept him off the market to do this to another woman. I can woulda, coulda, shoulda, myself to death, and beat myself up for not reporting him, and for me protecting him and what lied beneath his bible totting ways. For now, I am just grateful that I am a victor, no longer his victim.

Seeker of Truth

I will reiterate, every story I share here is; 100% true. Wanting it to not be the truth, doesn't make it so.

There was more than one victim

Pissed because I was too sick to make your lunch, that is all you cared about. I made your lunch every day, before I was sick; I filled it with good food, my amazing cooking leftovers and those damn notes you always wanted. How many different ways can you tell someone he’s better than everyone else and some sort of Adonis, which in short is what you wanted everyone to see in you.

 I was burning up with a fever of 103-104 off and on for two weeks, throwing up with severe morning sickness and so weak I was barely able to lift my head off the pillow from the bed. I’d spend my nights up every hour almost either peeing or throwing up, and sometimes at the same time.  You told me to clean the place up, do the laundry, and most of all make your lunch. That morning when I told you from the couch with tears running down my face that I couldn’t make your lunch because I could barely stand up, you told me you’d “drop you off at your parents on the way to work, maybe they can take you to a doctor.” You stopped the truck in front of my parent’s house, I got out. No walking me to the door, nothing, and you just drove off.

I knocked on my parent’s front door, my dad looked at me, yelled for my mom to get dressed and we were in the car driving to the hospital in less than 10 minutes. I was admitted within minutes of arriving. I was delirious from the fever, laying on the gurney I could hear my parents talking to the doctors; they told them and me later, that if I hadn’t gotten there within the next couple of hours, I would have died. I’m not even being dramatic, I would have DIED.

I was pregnant, with a kidney infection, dehydrated, and had pneumonia. An ultrasound revealed that my daughter had already gotten into the downward position, but I was only 21 weeks…this was very, very bad.  Coward came once to see me, before I went into premature labor, and lost her. I was in the hospital two days, when my water broke and I went into labor. My parents hated you, I should clarify that they still hate you, and they were beyond angry that you let me get this ill without getting me help.  I remember being so angry at my mother for at least six months for her not calling you when I went into labor and delivered the baby. The hospital called my parents when I went into labor because they were there ones who admitted me and filled out the paperwork, so they were my emergency contact. My mother didn’t think you deserved to be with me, to see the baby you cared nothing about. The one that you kicked while in the womb, (but she didn’t know that then) she just knew you were didn’t do anything to help me, and that I almost died.  It took me awhile to understand why my parents didn’t call you, it’s because they loved me and you were a monster to me.  It was pretty simple logic, actually; but I couldn’t’ see it then. You kept pointing out how much they hurt you, and how you were the victim.  Still I made excuses for your behavior that day; I made excuses for years about your behavior.

I was in the hospital for two and a half weeks after losing her; you know who stays in hospitals for 2 ½ weeks? VERY, VERY sick people! So to get back at my parents for not calling you while I was in labor, you banned them from the funeral of our daughter, their first grandchild.  It was just you, me, the funeral director and the men who carried her little coffin. I remember the kind funeral director asking where everyone else was with great concern in his eyes. It’s not that they didn’t want to be there, they just weren’t allowed.

 For the first time since I moved in with you, I was now at my parent’s house.  When I got discharged from the hospital and still very weak, you told me that they (my parents) should probably take you back to their home. You didn’t even make the offer to pick me up from the hospital, my parents did it. I mean they brought me there, so obviously they’d take me home too. I know my parents thought, this is it…we have her back and away from him FINALLY.  They’d been hoping that since the day when I was 16, a couple of months shy of 17 and a junior in high school, and you were 21. I was so hopped up on raging teen hormones and you seducing me that I couldn’t see the light of day. But just like you did when I was the high school girl and you first met me, you started: sending me flowers, calling me, sweet talking me and offering me things my parents couldn’t; and so, I left to move back in with you. You had me right where you wanted me, under your control. I know that this wasn’t a conscious action, most of your abuse towards me wasn’t.  Nonetheless conscious or not, it was abuse.  I offered you something you wanted. I was caring, loving, motherly, youthful, attractive, well liked, and had a close loving family, It’s where I would stay for almost 10 years. Ten years. A decade of physical & emotional abuse at your hands; ten years of abuse is hard to forget.

 

Wart, are you talking about?

 

I kept getting yeast infections; side note about all the yeast infections I had with him, I’m talking 10, at least. Since leaving him, I have had one infection while I was pregnant which is very normal-- that’s it, ONE.  So, I’d go to the store to buy the over the counter medication which back then was 5-day inserting vaginal cream procedure you’d have to endure while being very uncomfortable with itchy pain till it had cleared up. Finally after getting tired of the process of using the OTC medication, thinking it wasn’t strong enough, I made an appointment with my gynecologist.  They did a pap swab to check for the presences of yeast, and said they’d call with the results by the next day. I realize that things are MUCH speedier now, they have mini-labs in offices – but, I digress. The next day the doctor’s office called, sounding ominous the nurse told me that my pap had come back abnormal, and that I needed to come back in, A.S.A.P. I went back in the following day where they swabbed me again, and did a biopsy of the vaginal tissue. They told me that my pap had come back with some indicators that it MIGHT be cancer. HPV to be exact, that it might be something less (hopefully) but they needed to get another smear and they were going to send it out to a lab that evening and that the results would be back in four days.

Four days of the unknown, and I was freaking out. Finally they called to say they had the results and to come to the office the next day. The doctor informed me that I had genital warts. WHAT? Genital what? Not cancer, thank god, and if you know anything thing about HPV, and genital warts they are very similar on a smear read.

How did I get them, what were they doing to me, and what can I do to get rid of them. I was confused, I’d never had a wart, so how did I get them there? The doctor went on to tell me that they are a sexually transmitted disease, very different from the warts you get on your hands, and that I got them from my partner, Coward. The dr. then scheduled me to come in, to have an Cryotherapy procedure done where he would freeze and remove the warts. I went home dazed and confused by the information just told to me. I know I understood what had been told to me, but the part about wrapping my head around Coward being unfaithful, but….he loved me. 

When I told Coward what I had, and how the doctor said I contracted them from him he told me that I; must have used a dirty towel, got something from a public toilet seat, had a wart on my hand and touched my vagina when I wiped, but under NO circumstance did he give it to me.  I honestly started self-doubting myself; he was a master manipulator for sure. So I got the painful procedure and tried to push it out of my head. I understand that I was naive about how he handled it. I really was a romantic with this young belief that when people tell you that they love you, they don’t cheat, lie and or hurt you. There’s some truth to that statement, because when you really love someone you don’t. I don’t think he’s capable of real, honest-to-god love.  Instead of being defensive and asking me if I had cheated on him, which I hadn’t, he just turned it around to put the blame on me. He just told me that he was going to go out for a run, and never mentioned it again. 

 

Four months later on Christmas Eve, Coward decided to come clean about some woman he’d hooked up with while visiting a friend in the Bay area. Not once did he say, “Why yes that IS how you got genital warts.” He just needed to get it off his chest, to make himself feel better. Awesome. Yes I stayed with him, because of course he promised the famous, "it was only one time baby, I love you" bullshit line. He would do it once more where he confessed to me his being unfaithful. Except this time he told me, "if you would just leave it alone, I would have come back to you, like I always have." WOW.

Not only do I have to constantly reopen the wounds of how my physical pain is from domestic abuse every time I get a new doctor or have to have a procedure done. I also get to answer the question all women are asked by their medical providers, “have you ever had an abnormal pap smear?” I get to reply with, “Yes, I have. It was genital warts from my cheating, bastard ex.”

Sums it up

 

 

 

 

Truth.

Update on blog

It was brought to my attention by someone who was looking out for my best interest, that elements of my blog could become problems for me that I don't want.

In that light, I've redacted information that could be used to personally identify Coward. I consulted in someone well versed De-Identification, and I'm reasonably sure now that that Coward's personal identity cannot be discovered from my blog.

Update to this blog

I spent 9 hours on the road yesterday (12 hours total gone from my home) doing a round trip to Coward’s hometown. I had a surgical procedure performed on Tuesday for my cervical spine to help alleviate the pain caused from my abuser that left me in a lot of pain (still) so I’m a bit slow going. I will be redacting all personally identifying information, but it takes some time, and I don’t have much time today. So by this weekend there will be some changes to this place, check back then. ;)