'Til Death Do Us Part

 Ten years, ten long years of life with an abusive man. Three thousand, six hundred and sixty-five days of being told how worthless I was, how fat and how ugly I was to look at. One hundred and twenty months of living in fear, scared to sleep, scared to talk to my friends and deathly afraid to live.

Why, you ask? What makes a woman so weak, so insecure and so damned stupid? If I’d known the answer to that, then maybe I wouldn’t have lived eighty thousand, six hundred and forty hours with a man who lived to make my life hell. Just the other day, I told my sponsor that I knew there was a heaven because I had lived my life in hell.

When I stood in front of the justice of the peace, he said ‘til death do you part, and who would have ever guessed that simple sentence, those five little words, would have landed me here in the Texas State Correctional Facility.

I’m telling you my story in hopes that you will have the courage to leave, if you’re like I was. Don’t wait ‘til the devil takes control and you’re left feeling numb and full of hatred. Don’t do like I did. Don’t wait ‘til you think there’s nothing left to do.