Friday, December 08, 2006


I had to go a round with Khrystyne’s school to get her a work permit, but mission accomplished. Khrystyne was diagnosed with a learning disability when she was three years old. She was in physical, occupational, and speech therapy for three years before she even started school, and has always struggled with her studies. I don’t feel that is her fault and that she should be punished because of a learning disability and not be allowed to experience the same things that other teenagers get to experience. So I was ready to take her school on if necessary, but after speaking with me, the Dean issued Khrystyne a work permit. So last night after work I had to take her shopping to get Khaki pants, and she will start her job tonight.

Now going back some, when Khrystyne was three years old she was diagnosed with Post-traumatic Stress Disorder. I was going through a divorce from her father at that time, and she just stopped speaking, so of course I was very concerned for her and took her to the doctor right away. Well they ran a whole battery of tests on her, and even did a MRI, and they came to the conclusion that PTSD was what make her stop talking.

I was with her dad for two years before Khrystyne was born, one month later we got married, and two weeks after that he started hitting me. It only progressed from there to the point he beat me unconscious twice (once in front of his own mother, and both times in front of Khrystyne) but I stuck it out until Khrys was 3 and Courtney was 5 months old because I was raised in church and was brought up that no matter what divorce was against the Bible, and you need to work things out and stay together for your children’s sake.

Well I am here to tell you right now that is a big crock of shit!!!

Now let me state one more time I was with her father for over two years before he ever struck me. Why he just decided to start smacking me around all of the sudden is beyond me, but he did. I always said to myself, “As long as he doesn’t hit my kids, I can take it and they will be alright.”

Well I’m here to tell you they will not be alright, because of all of the abuse that she was witnessed to; her whole life has been a struggle, and there is not a day that goes by that I don’t blame myself for that. After the second time he beat me unconscious I left him, only to go back to him several months later with the understanding that he would never hit me again or I would leave and never look back.

Shortly after getting back together we moved to New York (he was in the military) we lived there about 2 ½ months when we were sitting in the living room one evening watching T.V. when all of the sudden he jumped up running across the room yelling, I looked up in horror only to see him hit my 3 yr old daughter (like he would hit me) all because she brought ONE toy into the living room. I was shocked, and I went to pick her up yelling at him, “What did you do that for?” his response was, “She has a room let her play with her things in there, I don’t want that shit all over my house.” To which I replied, “You don’t even clean up this house I DO, if you ever put your hands on her again I’ll cut your f*$King throat where you sleep!” I calmed her down and put her to bed (out of fear that he might try that again) and we of course had many other choice words that night.

Well three days later same set up we were sitting on the couch and he took off running and that son of a bitch did it again, but this time he hit her so hard that her feet came up off of the floor and she went flying through the air into a wall and then fell and hit her head on the hardwood floors. (Shortly after this is when she stopped speaking.) I was stunned; I could not believe what I had just seen! I remember sitting on my hands because I was so angry, and just shaking all over. He strolled through the house towards me with a stupid look on his face like, “Now what Bi**h, what do you think you are going to do about it?” and that idiot sat down right next to me. To this day I swear I cannot remember what happened it’s like I blacked out, I remember running towards Khrystyne and picking her up, I remember running out the door with her in my arms crying like I was the one that he had hit, but I can’t remember anything before that, all I know is that when we were running out of the house I caught a glimpse of red everywhere, and to this day I don’t remember hitting him, but I did; I broke his nose.

I grabbed her stroller from outside of the house and walked almost a mile to a pay phone, and I told my family what had happened and that we needed a place to stay, by the time I got home I knew that there was no turning back, no second chances this thing was done, and God would just have to forgive me of my sin, because I couldn’t stay here.

When we walked in the house he was all up in my face calling me every name in the book saying, “You’re lucky you left when you did, you f*#cking Bi*%h, I just finished basic training and my first instinct was to kill you!” I just walked past him, and I put Khrystyne in her room and I told her to stay in her room until I came to get her and I closed the door. I turned around and said, “If you think you’ve got what it takes Mother F&%ker, bring it on!” he never moved a muscle, actually he looked like he was about to wet his pants and cry all at the same time. I told him that I was leaving him and taking the kids with me, and if he had a problem with that, it was too damn bad. I was standing in the door way of the kitchen and he knew if he had moved a muscle that I was going to turn around and grab those knives and cut his ass up. If he would have moved that night I would have killed him.

He just said, “OK, I’ll give you the money to get home, but I don’t want you here for Christmas, if you are going to leave and take the kids, I want you to leave before Christmas gets here, it’ll be too hard knowing that they are leaving.” So I called Greyhound and made some reservations and we left and never went back. He gave us $400.00 (for tickets and all) I packed one suitcase for the three of us he drove us to the bus station and waited with us until we boarded our bus; he was standing there watching us drive away. It was a little sad, because he was my first love and my children’s father, but I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t do that to my children.

We rode the bus for 19 hours, I held Courtney the whole way. My mother came to the bus station to pick us up and take us to her house for dinner before we went to stay with my sister. I bent over to change Courtney’s diaper and my back went out from the stress of holding her for so long. But it was worth it.

One year later I was standing on the steps of the courthouse after signing my divorce papers crying, it still hurt but I know in my heart that I did the right thing. I just wished that I had done it sooner and spared Khrystyne a life of hardships because of what she had to endure.

The 19th of this month will be 13 years since we boarded that bus, and the last time my ex-husband ever saw my children.

Thank God for a wonderful step-father, who stepped right in without missing a beat and has loved and cared for my oldest two children like they were his own without hesitation, and with no regrets.

So for any woman out there who thinks as long as he is not hitting my child he’s not hurting them. YOU’RE WRONG… He’s hurting them far more than you’ll ever know.

1 comment:

chichimama said...

What a horrific experience for you and your children. You have so much strength. You did the absolutly right thing.