Why I stayed

I’ve been struggling with this question for what seems like a really long time now. I sometimes find myself still trying to figure that out. I have yet to come up with an answer that truly answers that question in a whole as to why I stayed. Its the nagging question that everyone wants to know followed by the judgmental “that could never be me” “I would never let that happen to me.” Why did I stay? Before any of this had happened to me the only interaction I had with domestic violence was the women I saw on TV. I knew it was wrong and it angered me to watch these women let themselves get treated like this, granted it was only a movie but the violence is very real to some. I also found myself saying how? why? that can’t be me, why doesn’t she just leave! Well let me just say that its easier said than done. I unfortunately found out it just doesn’t work that way for some. I believe that women are nurturers by nature and we definitely have more emotional attachment than men do. We want to fix things and we want to change things and we also see the good in a person once the potential has been shown. I didn’t necessarily want to fix him per say but I wanted him to be the man that he had shown me and had told me he would be. I had already seen the good in him, the person he showed me in the start. The person that I had told all my secretes to and had said you never have to be afraid and that’s never going to happen to you again. That was the security blanket that I had always wanted. I’m just going to tell you why I stayed.
As women we want security and we want to be taken care of and before you start saying “I can take care of myself, I don’t need a man” that’s a bunch of bullshit and you still have a lot of growing up to do so sit your ass down somewhere and by all means I’m not saying that women can’t do that because we certainly can. We can also be independent and make our own ways however all those things can only satisfy you for so long. Biological clocks start ticking and the thought of marriage starts to creep in our heads, we want something more. What I mean is okay let me ask you this, have you ever experienced something deep? In this case I’m going to say love, once you’ve experienced love you cant undo it we cant go back from that experience. We look for that euphoria or whatever it was that we experienced in the next person or in the same person because people change right. There’s nothing that compares to the security you get from a man or the warmth you get from a woman and no dildo or blow up doll is going to replace that. Well I wanted all those things, I was still young when I met him and i was very impressionable ..

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the abuse part 2

First of all let me apologize for my writing on my last post.. Also for the long wait for my next post.. See in order for me to write I need to be in certain state of mind which I haven’t been in… I hate to be unrealistic and fake about my feelings. I need to able to take myself to that actual date and time for them to able to real, raw and unfiltered. In other words I need to become Lola..
I guess most people who develop these alter egos are either looking to obviously become someone else or looking to protect themselves in which they couldn’t do so in their regular state of mind.. kind of like a Clark Kent and Superman affect.. I can’t write or tell my story without becoming her.. she is my inner diva and my lost child-self but she is also my ego is bare persona..
I’m sure lots of you have questions as to how and why.. however that’s for the next blog post and title… this is about my abuse still.
Forget about my last blog.. Like I was saying he had never put his hands on me till I was eight months pregnant. We had discussions but we never had altercations till then.. I couldn’t believe it.. It was like I was in a dream world, but none the less I was in my new reality. The abuse didn’t get bad till later. At first it was just minor slaps here and there. Since he noticed that I wasn’t going to call the cops or his mom.. he felt like it was ok..
My mother gave me this piece of advise a long time ago.. “A man only does what you allow him to do”.. These words did not have resignation with me till later on life when I knew what she meant. Needless to say I allowed him to do everything to me.. He belittled me.. abused me and raped me.. It’s what you do to someone when you need to gain control of them.. I till this day want to know why. However I know that resolution will never come..
like I said it started off slow with slaps here and there. soon they escalated to bruises on my legs and arms.. he carefully placed them all in hiding places. He was not stupid at all.. what got to me at times was the fact that he would help me hide them at times.. like if he slipped up and hit me in my face he would help me put my makeup on and even draw my bath and comfort me.. Until you experience what someone like me has then you will never understand why I stayed. those acts were like when someone tells you they love you.. They were gentle acts of someone who you wish was real.. like when he gives you flowers or takes you on a date.. those gentle acts were those things to me.. He nurtured my bruises that he made.. caressed my hair that he pulled….. and covered it all up while acting like the wonderful man he was..
No one knew for a long time what was going on.. till the bruises couldn’t be covered anymore and my faced showed it..
My 21st birthday was one i’ll never forget.. I was working for my brother in law as a waitress.. they knew it was my 21st and proceeded to celebrate with alcohol after my shift.. well when he came and came picked me up he was so mad that I was drunk that I remember he acted like everything was fine when we were around everyone….. till we got home…. He beat me and he also had a cake for me which I didn’t know about.. He just shoved it right in my face and beat me basically all night.. mind you I got off at 5..5 hours of hell that’s how I spent my 21st..
I must have left this man like a total of 4 times that I can think off.. Every time I kept going back. He had this hold on me that till this day I cant explain.. He said jump and I said how which way and how high…
I remember us being homeless but yet he still took care of me and our son.. I had to go get McDonald’s vouchers.. It was one of the lowest points in my life but still dint make me leave.. He made me feel like everything was going to be ok..
Every time I left he would find some way to find me.. I thought about deporting my own self.. I just thought that if I would go back home to my country that I wouldn’t have to deal with him.. At this time I was going crazy and bulimic and thinking irrational thoughts.. I was in pain… He would beat me for not making dinner or not having his way.. He busted my eardrum because I stood up to him.. He even took my kids for a month when I wanted to send them to Honduras and he promised me that he would sign the papers for them to able to go..bullshit.. He drew a gun out on me he played with me and treated me like a toy. I remember when I left for the last time. he came to my parents house to where I was .. when he showed up I was paralyzed with fear I couldn’t even open the back door.. .. Don’t ever think that what he does is ok… just leave.. I know you feel like he’s your everything but I promise you he’s not… I was alone with two extra children and I never felt more alone. especially after they tell you you’re nothing without them.. and that’s when I developed Lola ….and I never felt more alive….

The abuse

I hate talking about this.. it has become one of biggest fears.. however none the less here it goes… abuse of any kind is never ever ok.. I had the unfortunate reality to experience physical, mental and rape…. my abuser was at one time my lover, my protector and my confidant.. I would have done anything for him..you hear me… anything…. and I did….

like I was saying he didn’t put his hands on till I was 8 months pregnant with his son…

it happened so suddenly… I was at one point telling him that I wanted to go home and I was miserable.. so he told me to pack my bags and leave.. GOOOO!! He said… so I proceeded to pack my things and go.. I was at the sliding door when I felt someone yank me back in by my coat… I thought to myself there’s no way he’s that crazy that he would put his hands on me!!.. I was fucking wrong.. he pulled me all the way in back to room and proceeded to choke me.. He however was careful not to harm my stomach and it’s something that I’ve never forgotten about.. I think that it also played a crucial part in me always forgiving him!… He choked me and slammed me against the bedroom door… at that point I’ve never been so scared in my life.. I can’t even remember what he said to me.. I was just so scared for my baby inside my motherly instinct was on overdrive.. so I played the part.. I played the part like I had learned to play the part years ago from my past abuse.. like i was in survival mode but at the same time I was scared little girl.. I could never ever forget that day… no matter how much I tried.. If you have never experienced any type of abuse then what I’m about to say next you won’t be able to relate.. The light In his eyes went out… they all of a sudden went from brown to black.. It wasn’t him.. I mean I was looking straight at them. There was no where else to look.. The guy that I thought I knew wasn’t there at all.. and it was like he was looking at me like I was a thing and not a person.. then all of a sudden his eyes came back and it was like he realize what he was doing and we were on the bed at that point and he got off me and walked away.. I was so fucking scared my body wanted to run…… but my heart and my inner voice said go see if he’s ok… like what the fuck??!! Go see if he’s ok!???? Are you fucking joking me?? This man just got done choking you!!..

So I went to go see if he was ok.. I was compelled to … or so I felt.. I was scared and terrified yet somehow feeling like he wouldn’t hurt me again because when I saw him it was like looking at baby or some sort of hurt animal that needed a medic..

that was the first time he put his hands on me and I was eight months pregnant.. it was just all down hill from then.. we eventually moved back down to Texas and had two jobs and I supported him or us.. I had to give him all my money.. ok I know what you’re thinking… why?? He managed to isolate me from my family and my friends.. none of them loved me and none of them had the love he had for me.. according to him this is what he said… if they lived me like they said they did they would have and came and rescued me from him already.. how sick is that?? But also how sick was I?? He had beat me down so hard that I believed his bullshit.. I was left alone again with my thoughts and no one ever came through to help that I started to believe him.. I believed that my family didn’t love me and I had no friends..

please be aware that what I’m about to tell you was from a girl who didn’t know any better..

where do I start? .. he battered me to the point where I was lost .. I was in this in inception that I couldn’t t get out of.. all this whole also going to church.. yeah he claimed to be a man of

He would always abuse me on my body and not only face.. because he didn’t want people to see or call the cops:. .. I left him like 4 times but each time I kept going back.. because he would always say I’m sorry .. Im sorry baby I didn’t know that I was doing and I would never do it again.. lies all fucking lies..

He would play baseball with me.. let me explain.. he would have me stand against the wall and he would throw all kinds of objects at me.. I would have to dodge them all because he accused me of being a whore and a slut and all that shit.. he also abused my sons.. my eldest which is why I lost him.. and his son.. I felt so torn.. as a mother.. but also as his prisoner.. I felt so alone.. I didn’t do anything.. I was such a chicken shit.. it cost me me my son.. writing this still gives me panic attacks.. I became bulimic because I just wanted to have something to have control over.. and I was going insane..

To be continued…….

Meeting him

I never thought that after everything that I had been through already in my wildest dreams ever think that I would be a victim of domestic violence. Call it God or call it the devil, whoever it was he wasn’t done with me yet.. When I was in my late teens I had a girlfriend who I identified with a lot. We had a lot in common and we both loved to go out. I guess you can say that I was becoming into myself trying to figure out life but also not going anywhere because I wasn’t doing anything productive with my time and I didn’t want to continue on with my education. At this point in my life I had tried to forget what had happened and just try to move because I was an adult now with the world right in front of me but somehow not knowing what to do with it. My girl and I would love to go out and party and drink and dance pretty much every single day to our favorite club, I had made friends with the bouncer so he would always let us in with a wrist band even though we weren’t 21 and we would just have a good time. I wasn’t really looking to meet anyone because I loved being single but I wasn’t opposed to it either. I still remember that night I met him like it was yesterday, I was standing at the front bar so I could see who was coming in and out. I saw him walk in, now let me just say that we weren’t at some lounge having champagne and toasting to life.. no we were at one of the ghetto clubs on dirty six lol. So he walks in and he’s very confident my eyes immediately lock on him, I really cant explain why but I was just attracted to him. He was flashy and very sure of himself, maybe that’s what attracted me to him.. So he hands me this card with his number on it and I cant lie I was pretty excited about it.. not knowing that in my hands I held my future kids father and also my abusers phone number. It’s so weird and surreal thinking about it that way now because I was the one that called him and I didn’t have that pit feeling in my stomach that something was wrong with him. We got to know each other fairly quickly and I was very smitten by him and with the way he walked, talked and how he was with me. I didn’t even stop to think about what he did or even ask that much about him, at the time all he had told me was that he was from Chicago and that he came to Texas trying to escape that bad part of the city. I didn’t have any reason to think that he was lying to me. He was always just trying to get to know me, asked everything about me and I just honestly thought that he was trying to genuinely get to know me. I never really had anyone listen to me and talk to me the way he did… Maybe part of me yearned for that, to have someone really listen to me and me being open with them, I was so used to being closed off to everyone.. I would only let people know what I wanted them to know and that wasn’t very much.. however there was something about him that made me want to tell him everything.. little did I know that all of that would backfire on me and he would use all this information against me..
My first red flag should have been when we had known each other for about 3 or four months and he casually asked me one day for 500$, of course at first I was like why? He just simply replied that he needed to pay for his car and that he would pay me back at the end of the month.. Well needles to say I didn’t really think twice about it and I gave him the money… I know I know, it was really stupid of me.. How? Why? Well I cant really answer that question with a specific answer besides that he was a smooth talker and had me convinced that there wasn’t anything fishy about it.. Those were the small things that he would do in the beginning.. Also having girls call him all the time but somehow I convinced myself that nothing was going on.. I wanted to be with him and he assured me that nothing was going on.. The smooth talk is one of the biggest key factors as to why women stay..
I got pregnant when I had only known him about 5 or six months and he convinced me to move in with him.. Honestly I didn’t want to have the baby I wanted to have an abortion.. I thought that he would agree with me so when I told him the idea he went off! He was mad about the whole idea and saying how could you even think about it and blah blah blah.. He stormed off and didn’t come home for the rest of the night.. He left me alone with my thoughts and somehow it made me think that this might be a good thing and that maybe he really wanted this.. somehow it made me feel loved.. strange I know… So it was decided that this baby was going to be born.. as the months went by I guess I got used to the idea.. and he never even yelled at me when we would get into arguments he would simply walk away.. Around the time when I was about 5 or six months along he convinced me to move to Chicago with him.. just pack up and leave.. I didn’t know why until he told me what he actually did and was doing with our rent money.. He was selling drugs and not paying the rent.. Strangely this was not enough for me to walk away.. He always had this way of making me feel like everything was going to be alright and that he would always make sure that I was good.. I became this little puppy that was doing what she was told to do without even realizing it.. and since he had told me about the hard time he had growing up I wanted to make him happy.. and I didn’t want to add to that.. So we move to Chicago and low and behold everything starts to go down hill from there.. I found out about other kids he had that he didn’t take care of.. I mean lots of kids and one had just been born, of course he denied it.. It was like I was in vortex but I was in too deep.. We were staying with his mom and it was winter time and I became increasingly miserable and I started to voice my opinion about how much I missed my home and parents and that I wasn’t happy.. He increasingly got frustrated with me and like I said he had never even yelled at me let alone put his hands on me… until I was eight months pregnant that’s when I got my first taste of this new reality that I had already signed up for but didn’t know it.. the abuse began.. all because I wanted to go home…….

pregnant at 15

When I was kid I never really gave it much thought to how my adult life would play out. I just took it day by day. Looking back on it now I don’t think I would have ever imagined that it would have happened this way, or at least half of the shit that has happened. Choices and consequences is what I always tell my kids. I knew the concept but as I was growing up I didn’t think too much about it, or at least the consequences. When I was 15 I got pregnant.. I was terrified to tell my parents.. however I got through it.. I gave birth to a baby boy.. This baby boy was not the light of my life.. I cant write in good conscious and lie to you and say “oh he was the joy of my life”.. He was not. I had this motherly instinct to protect and provide for him but that was about it. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that I didn’t love his father or even myself. How can you love someone else when you don’t even love yourself. I felt disconnected to him. I sometimes felt like there was something wrong with me, like I was broken. I never talked about it with anyone or even shared it because I felt ashamed about it. How can a mother not love her child!!!?? Nobody would understand, that’s just the way I felt.. I was raising him and caring for him like I was his babysitter. I know what you’re probably thinking… Maybe I should have gave him up for adoption if I didn’t love him.. The thing was I felt like I was one foot in and foot out if that makes any sense.. I was 15 and new to motherhood and with a huge responsibility.. however feeling like I wasn’t ready.. His dad and I split custody and never really saw eye to eye. I didn’t make things easy for him either.. I took some things out on him but that’s neither here nor there. I was split between actually having this motherly love for him and just having basic instinct to care for another human life.. Don’t get me wrong I have some compassion for people but sometimes I don’t.. Let me explain.. As I sit here writing I’m also conflicted with emotions.. part of me cares and there’s this other part of me that’s screaming FUCK it you don’t need to explain yourself but I have to explain myself I cant just leave it unsaid.. Around the same time… I had some abortions.. 4 to be exact.. NOBODY has ever known about this dirty little secrete about me.. I just think that its crucial to talk about it.. I want to say that these decisions were made with the other parent and we both decided that it was not a good idea to not have kids.. We were really unprepared and very immature.. what’s funny to me is that a few years later he had a kid with another woman.. I was hurt.. I know some of you might say 4!! how can you have 4?? I ask that same question every time I think about it.. When I went and was at the actual place.. I had to take myself to lala land and tell myself that it was the right thing to do.. that’s how I got over it and got through it but I also didn’t have a connection to them. I never let myself have that much feeling.. That’s how I was able to loose my first born… oh yeah I lost him… sending me deeper into becoming this person (Lola) who I never asked to become in the first place…. I lost my son and I will explain how that happened later. But first I will tell you how I met my kids father and how that happened

Becoming Lola

So it’s late at night and for some reason I can only find the courage to write this late. Maybe silence and I have become good friends.. anywho where did I leave off.. Ok so I talked a little about my childhood. to further explain that- that event set me on a path of self destruction, I became a quiet child very timid and shy. I didn’t trust any adults or family. I felt like someone always wanted something from me. I had to grow up very quickly mentally not physically. It was an uneven emotional battle that I struggled with for a long time . I ask myself what type of adult would I be now if I hadn’t experienced this?. Am I even functional now?… Not to say that what happened was great or anything but did this help shape me into the woman and mother that I am now? I struggle with that question all the time.. I actually question everything and when I say everything I mean everything.. When it comes to God, when it comes to faith, or destiny.. I think that when you’re a victim of something that traumatizes you or brings pain you tend to ask why.. Why me??? I’m angry for the things that happened that I had no control over. Even though people say everything happens for a reason and I’ve even said that before to help other people cope… but that’s it– it just helps people cope with the things that they no answers to.
This distrust that I developed for people somehow manifested into me being able to disassociate myself from any adult. I mean any adult.. My mother my father and my siblings.. sometimes I looked at them and I felt no love, it was emptiness, a blank stare like a total stranger if you will.. But then I would snap out of it and compassion flooded through.. It was the weirdest feeling to able to do that.. Please understand that I wasn’t having a temper tantrum and just saw them that way when I was mad, it was out of the blue. Maybe other people experience this…Here’s what I’m trying to get into… fast forward to my teenage years when I lost my virginity but later you’ll understand that this isn’t all I was trying to explain.. Ok here go ( panic attack)… annnnnnnnnd a shot of adrenaline…..
There was this boy who I had a crush on and he was one of my brothers’ friends. He was a thug.. my brothers were in a gang and he was part of that.. He was a year older than me… one day he grabbed me by the hand and started to pull me towards my house.. my house was like right down the street from the school.. so this was around our lunch break and we were just hanging on the side of the school.. so he pulls me towards my house and we go in… my heart was racing and I couldn’t believe that this was happening and yet I couldn’t do anything about it… my body was like a robot and it just went with it. It was the longest shortest 5ish minutes of my life at that time…ok fine I’ll say 10ish lol……I don’t even think words were exchanged between us.. I have no recollection of any words being spoken between us…. I was 13 and that’s how I lost my virginity…………………….
There was no fairytale love or Romeo and Juliet love story.. and I will always remember this for the rest of my life.. I wont talk too ill will about him because he’s no longer living.. As for me… I gave something that is supposed to be so sacred and you’re supposed to save for someone special.. and I just gave it away like it was nothing… because it was nothing to me.. I had already experienced some sort of sexual conduct.. I wasn’t thinking about the consequences or how it felt.. Honestly I remember it being painful and that’s about it.. My body had shut down to idea and fact.. yet I can’t sit here and explain in good conscious why I went along with it.. I can just say that I had disassociated myself with him and myself.. if that makes any sense.. and if doesn’t please don’t be afraid to ask me… there was no love no intimacy but then again I was 13 and I had no idea what those things were.. I only knew that it was an act and its what men wanted.. and men had betrayed me in the past.. no one to turn to…no one to ask for help. I was alone with my thoughts and my dirty little secrete of what had happened to me.. It sometimes made me feel like by being me that I had brought this upon myself.. Listen I’m Hispanic/Latina and my parents struggled to raise us.. there was no therapy or psychiatrist that they could send me to.. I had to struggle with this on my own and deal with the personal thoughts in my head that haunted me on a day to day basis.. I had my string of partners for the next few years… and none meant anything to me.. I just looked at them and felt nothing and I treated sex like it was nothing.. I was a kid and I didn’t know what I was doing or what I was supposed to feel… nothing fulfilled me and yet I was looking for something (not knowingly).. but no one could bring me out of this abyss.. sending me deeper into become Lola…..even when I got pregnant at 15…

becoming lola

Hi my name is Nora also known as lola.. I’m just a regular girl and I’m in no way a writer or a blogger I just have a story to tell. I will say that this story is very graphic and contains some sexual and drug usage mention. in no way do I want you to cry for me Argentina… However I feel like in order to know the person you have to get to know their past.. ok here we go.. No turning back..

My story begins when I was 5. My mother brought me and siblings to the States and I didn’t know what was going on or that it was a better life for me. When you’re a kid you don’t know these things. You don’t even know that you’re poor until someone tells you are..anywho I didn’t have the American dream experience I had quite the opposite. You see I was molested when I was young and when I came here. I often think how my life would of been if we would of styed in Honduras, would that have never happened to me?… Would my brother still be alive? All these things run through my mind like water. Ok so I’m going to talk about thing that I now know that set me on this destructive path.. When I was young I was molested .. maybe you’re thinking what does this have to do with you becoming Lola… trust me it has a very big part to play.. So when I was young I was molested and not only did I not address this problem I thought I was fine.. for years… but I was not.. writing this proves im not ok.. ive cried and ive deleted and thought hard about this… it still has a hold on me.. for a long time I knew how to dissociate myself from people.. let me explain. when I was being molested I would close my eyes and pretend that this wasn’t happening to me.. kind of like on Forest Gump when Jenny said “I wish I was bird and fly far away” that was me when it was happening.. though no one ever came to rescue me I had to think of other ways to overcome it..i developed a tough skin and that set me on to the course that led me become Lola……