Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Being Real 2

I began student teaching 4th grade in the fall of 1988. I fell in love with every child and adored learning how to teach. I felt empowered. Like I really was someone. Like I could be someone.

I was so far from God. I believed He wasn't interested. He could care less about me. He was close to folks that deserved His love. I did not. I began to sense a great darkness in my life. A heaviness that I could not shake. I lived in a Frank Peretti town in MN. There seemed to be a presence there. I was being abused by my fiance. The special education teacher I was supposed to be learning from abused the students. I was sexually harrassed by the construction crew at the elementary school. I worked at a clothing store and one night a couple came in. She kept me talking while he cleaned out the jewelry case. I was blamed for it. All of these things made me feel very lost indeed.

The violence had escalated in my relationship. I had already indicated by my staying that I would tolerate it. I was punched, slapped, kicked, pushed, tripped, had my hair pulled and was spit on by Don. The one who professed to love me. The engagement ring meant nothing as he constantly asked for it back. He was always so sorry and thus would begin the next honeymoon period. The good times were great, the bad times were horrifying. I believed that what Don said about me was true. It didn't really matter to me anymore. I didn't argue, I didn't fight, I just took it. I resigned myself to it.

I told my parents about what was going on after Don and I broke up. AGAIN. They told me I probably deserved it. Yeah. Figures. When Don and I got back together my parents kicked me out. I moved in with him as I had nowhere else to go. One night he choked me. He tightened his grip on my neck and as I struggled I looked into his eyes. Pure evil. He continued to cut off my air and when I stopped struggling he let me go and asked for the ring back. I gave it to him and left. I looked into the kitchen as I walked out and saw 3 guys snorting coke at the table.

I didn't just want to survive. Deep down I really wanted to live a happy life. How? When? What in the world was I doing with this man?! I began to plot my escape. I had always wanted to be a nanny. I talked it over with Don and told him I was going to be a nanny for a year after I graduated in the spring of 1989. He seemed fine with that because I told him I would come back to him and we would get married although I had no intention of it.

4 comments:

Pat Stream said...

To know you now Babe is a gift. I am here by your side even now as you retell your stories in hopes that others my be pointed to the source of your hope. I love you.

Carla said...

I love you. You are God's gift to me.

erin said...

This is hard to read. I'm so sorry, Carla. I love you.

Carla said...

It gets worse. And then it gets better. Hang in there. :)

I love you too.