Category Archives: Domestic Violence

Hi, My name is Lori and I am a Codependent

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“Codependency, by definition, means making the relationship more important to you than you are to yourself.”

 For almost my whole life every man in my life has either lied, cheated or used me for something. I’ve been kicked and torn down by the men that I thought loved me so many times that it’s a damn miracle that I’m not stripping in some shady bar at a truck stop. Almost every boyfriend that I have given my heart to has treated it like trash and thrown it back in my face. Perhaps it all stems from my own father and the daddy issues that I developed as a child.

As a young girl I thought what almost all little girls think of their dads, that he was a super hero. That he could do no wrong and take away any pain with a hug and kiss. I know I was entirely too young when that fantasy world was taken away from me and I was forced to see him as the flawed person he is. Like all the men that followed him, I learned that he was lying and cheating on my own mother. So maybe that is where my extremely LOW expectations in relationships come from.

The term codependent is something that fits my personality to a “T.” I enjoy helping people whenever I can, hence my choices in career paths, teacher, counselor and nurse… but it also transfers over to my love life. Because after each heartbreak I have it seems my need to provide and fix the person I love gets deeper and deeper. I give myself whole heartedly to relationships with men that give little or nothing in return. For a long time I felt that the only way to love someone is to love selflessly and that is exactly what I’ve done for years. In fact, I’ve loved the men in my life so much that I have managed to stop loving myself.

For years I kept myself in a relationship with a man who would habitually cheat and lie to me. Even though everyone around me could see what was happening, I was so blinded by the fear of being alone that I wouldn’t let myself see it. Fast forward five years down the road and I’m sitting in a court room pleading to a judge for a restraining order and to finally give me freedom from this hell I’ve created for myself.

Even though technically I am free from that hell, I still have a long way to get back to the person I use to be. I don’t expect miracles from myself and even though distraction and denial is a very tempting alternative, I’m finally forcing myself to deal with my demons once and for all.

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Denial Isn’t Just A River In Egypt

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In 1969 Dr. Elisabeth Kubler Ross developed a theory of how people deal grief. According to her theory, when someone goes through any kind of situation that causes profound grief, they will go through five emotional stages in order to move on.

Denial
Anger
Bargaining
Depression
Acceptance

Now according to Kubbler Ross, we must go through these stages in that order, however since 1969, psychologist alike have come to the conclusion that people can jump from denial to bargaining to anger back to denial. Like many thing having to do with our emotions, there is no set in stone answer.

I don’t know exactly what order I have been going in the last few months, but I do know one thing for sure. Instead of wanting to deal with all the pain and loss I have been subject to, I had been pushing it all away and distracting myself with anyone or anything I could.

My serial dating with men that I know I have absolutely no future or feelings for has kept my mind off of my ex and being lonely. Constantly having sound around the apartment and being stimulated by movies and music so that my mind would be busy. When I would go to sleep at night I would make sure I would go to sleep to a movie or TV playing so that my mind wouldn’t have a chance to start thinking about everything that happened. I was making a conscious yet subconscious effort to make sure I never let myself start down the rabbit hole of emotion.

It seemed to be working fine and I almost had myself convinced I really was moving on from all this when the smallest thing tipped the scales and it all started to go downhill. That one small, normally in consequential event opened the flood gates of emotion and pain.

Where before keeping my mind busy with music and studying would keep it from going to dark places now I can’t seem to stop it. Even now in my dreams the memories of having a gun pointed at my head come back to me. When I wake up, instead of being able to keep my physical self busy by working out, I can hardly seem to get out of bed.

As Kubler Ross would say, I had officially moved from denial to depression.

Beginning Of The End

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On September 7th I found my boyfriend in bed with another woman.

On September 11th my ex came home from who knows where already smelling like alcohol. He came inside the apartment slamming doors and ignoring me, but no worries because this was usual by now. What also became habit by this time was for me to shut myself away in my room. Soon it was almost midnight and my ex was thumping heavy metal music from the other room. Passive aggressive actions like this to make my life hell were also something that I was fastly getting accustom to. When I went out into the living room to ask him to turn down the music I saw that he had his feet up on the desk, leaning back in his chair, glass of vodka in one hand and a gun in the other.

When I asked him to turn down the music he lifted the gun at my head and cocked it as if he was going to shoot.

Luckily, and a part of me really does not know how, but I got out of that room alive. I went straight to my closest where I sat hiding and called 9-1-1.

It took only a few minutes for the police to arrive and when they did they I sat in my closet and was the most scared I have ever been in my whole life. Sitting in the next room was the man I had loved for years but now I found myself questioning “could he actually kill me?” These were not problems that I ever thought I would be facing, yet here I was, huddled in my closest, crying to a 9-1-1 operator trying to figure out the best way to escape my crazy ex-boyfriend.

Seeing as how there was really only one way to get out of the apartment I had to go back into the living room where he sat with the gun and walk to the front door. As I walked out the front door an officer grabbed me, tossed me to another officer behind him and ran with me across the hallway to a protected spot.

As I ran I could hear my boyfriend yelling “where the fuck are you going?!” I assume he followed me out of the apartment because soon I also heard the police officers yelling for him to drop the gun.

To this day I don’t know what my ex would have done to me if I hadn’t called the cops that night. But a part of me deep down thinks that I wouldn’t be here now if I hadn’t….

Passion, Desire and a Sociopath

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I thought we were happy as can be, in fact we had been looking at houses, talking about marriage, even picked out a ring! All the demons that had haunted our past seemed as though they were finally going away. I thought “finally, after all the pain and struggle, we were finally going to be happy together.” But I was wrong.

He became more and more distant to me the more that I tried to make him happy, it only seemed only make him more unhappy. I tried doing everything and anything I could think of to make him smile. I tried doing his laundry, I tried cooking dinner, I took care the dog, I even picked up his dry cleaning. I became more of a maid then a girlfriend. I’d try to do anything to make his life as easy as possible so that our relationship would get back to where I thought it was happy.

After weeks of giving him space giving everything I could, including my dignity, I was dying inside for attention and love he finally sat me down for one of the worst conversations I’ve ever had.

I just don’t have any passion or desire for you anymore.”

I listened to all that my ex had to say. Everything from how he didn’t have feelings for anything and felt numb to the world. In that conversation I felt bit and pieces of my self-esteem being ripped away. I sat there crying and all while he just sat and looked at me smirking.

For months I had tried everything in my power to make this man happy. No not just months, but for the last 5 years, I had done whatever I could to make him happy. I lost friendships, damaged family relationships, misses out on huge life events all for him. And now all I got in return was a smirk from a sociopath.

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Grief is a profound part of recovery and new life. Tears of regret, remorse and despair water the roots of love and life itself. To deny and avoid the hurt and pains of life’s losses is to negate life’s importance.

It’s hard to think where exactly to start my story… I suppose the best way to start would be the first time I met him.

The first time I saw Scott Douglas Rogers I thought he was the most attractive men I had ever seen. Tall, muscular, great smile, a sense of confidence that no one could resist and these ice blue eyes that gave me chills every time he would look at me. I had never been so attracted to someone in my whole life. My heart was still recovering from all the pain and shock from a pervious love lost when things between Scott and I started up.

Even when we met somewhere inside my head I knew that he was not the right guy for me. From the very beginning he would tell me horrible stories about things that he had done in his past.

He never lied or tried to cover up that he had cheated on almost every girl he had ever dated.

He didn’t lie about how him and his friends would do sexual things just to humiliate the girl involved.

He told me all about his baggage from childhood, his mom that committed suicide and how he still refused to get counseling for it.

From the very beginning I knew that Scott Rogers was not a good person.

But somewhere between my freshly broken heart and his piercing baby blue eyes, I lost myself.

It wasn’t long after we started dating my whole world became about him. I stopped worrying about taking care of the other relationships in my life, but only wanted to be around him. I stopped hanging out with my friends, I started screening my phone calls to avoid certain people so that I wouldn’t have to think of an excuse as to why I didn’t want to hang out.

In the beginning things were exciting, we would lay in bed all day and just talk. Talk about anything and everything that we wanted. I would lay there in his arms and just watch the shadows of the day crawl across his bedroom ceiling.

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Like I had said earlier I had never been so attracted to someone in my life, and that scared me. He was more experienced in almost all ways of life then me. Sex, relationships, paying bills, you name and he had been doing it for years. And I would not hesitate for a minute to tell me when I needed to work on something.

Quickly over the months he began to be more and more critical of the things that I would do. In such a subtle way that I didn’t even notice the effect that it was having on me. Comments like…

“You really suck at cooking…”

“I need to start on your domestication training…”

“What kind of woman doesn’t know how to iron?”

He soon was critical of the way that I looked, encouraging me to dye my hair blonde or even getting fake boobs. Always talking about girls in the past that he had been with and how amazing their fake boobs had been. When I would stand up for myself it was normal for him to make comments like…

“There are tons of other girls that I could go be with! Your lucky to have me!”

When I would cry or try to tell him that his comments hurt my feelings, somehow I would always end up feeling like the bad guy. Even if in my head I knew I had done anything wrong, the arguments would get so ugly that I would rather just say I’m sorry then deal with anymore yelling.

“Your acting crazy…. your being overemotional…”

….. And it wasn’t long before I began to believe it.

Grief