June 8, 2015

June 8, 2015

I have finally reached the week that I have been dreading for the last few months…the week approaching the 1 year marker of Aja’s murder.  It still hurts to connect that word to Aja.  Murder.  It doesn’t feel right.  Murder is harsh.  Ugly.  Aja wasn’t any of those things.  She was a gentle being.  A free spirit.  My black butterfly.  Just like the Deniece Williams song *Black Butterfly*

“Now you’re free, and the world has come to see….Just how proud and beautiful you are”

Rationally, I can tell myself that I will simply put one foot in front of the other and get through that day much the same as I have gotten through every other painful day.   But man, when I tell you…EVERY fiber of my being is crying out, every beat of my heart wants to be the last beat. I close my eyes to shelter myself from the images in my head, but they just become more vivid.  I block my ears, but I can’t stop hearing Aja crying out for me. 

I think about and already miss the grandbabies that will never be born of Aja, or the husband she will never marry, the college she will never graduate from, the first house she will never get a chance to celebrate.  I think about the holidays that I will never have a chance to celebrate with her and her family, or the visits I will never get to look forward to as I get older..eagerly looking forward to having ALL of my children together with me for the holidays.  

I will still eagerly look forward to seeing my son, daughter and grandchildren; but there will always be a piece of me that keeps glancing at the door, praying that this nightmare will finally come to an end and she will come bopping through the door, arms bursting because she was carrying way too much of everything, ( because she always went overboard with gifts and decorations on holidays).. *hey Mummyyyyy!!!!  I missed you so much!!!* with that sweet smile that lit up a room.  

I miss the girly giggles between Aja, Michelle and Mani late at night.  The relentless teasing poor Aaron had to put up with from his sisters, and even worse if Kia , Jauhara and April were there too!  I miss Aja climbing her big adult self up into my bed to snuggle with me; or when I’d walk into my room to find Aja with all of her nail supplies..announcing she was doing my nails.  Even her walking in and demanding that I lay down so she could *clean up these ugly ass eyebrows* as she sang along to her favorite songs, with that sweet voice of hers.  It was always so pretty, but she didn’t believe so.  

I looked forward to those times that we spent together; I enjoyed her company so much in such an organic way.  I was so proud of the woman that she was growing into and I loved to just sit there and sort of observe her in her element, and watch how everyone responded to her..she was kind, thoughtful, hardworking, humble...and oh so funny.

Everyone says all of this will lessen with time.  I don’t know how that can be possible.  I don’t think the pain will go anywhere.  I just find different ways to navigate it and to accept the pain, welcome it home like an old friend and to understand…that the depth of my pain is simply a reflection of the depth of the love that I had and continue to have for Aja.

DV Survivor Stories - Introducing Denitrice

Introducing Denitrice....

My name is Denitrice. I am a single mother of 4 and a survivor of domestic violence. My abuse ended in June 2013 when he went to prison.

I met my abuser also my two kid's dad at his family's house party. I knew his brothers. I was with him ten years. The abuse didn't start until five years later. When it started I really didn't understand what was going on. I thought he was just going through something. I didn't stay for financial reasons. I always worked and took care of the bills and kids. He barely kept a job.

He first started controlling me. Questioning my whereabouts. Timing me. Not wanting me out or around family and friends. Basically staying in the house with the kids.. Then he started verbally abusing me. Which really took a toll on me. Those ugly words he dished out hurt. I still shed a tear or two. He would hurt my feelings so bad in front of his family. Some would step in others just watched. He then started pushing me around into things.

I stayed another five years after it started because I didn't want to move back home. I mean who as a adult with kids wants to live with family. So I toughed it out. My parents moved out their house and gave it to me. Meaning I had to live in Georgia which was cool. So I told him one day I'm moving back to Ga. He didn't like that. He started threatening me about leaving him. So I allowed him to come. That only lasted five days..

On a Saturday morning I left with the kids for awhile. I come back home to a house party with his family only. He was drinking and doing drugs. I knew the day wouldn't end good. Later on the family left he started arguing with my kids and friend. My sister came to get them. His son stayed and witnessed most of the beating that night. I PRAY for that child so much. That night I was beaten like a man. I passed out twice. I woke up and thought I was dreaming but it was so real. I did try and get away but I was too weak.

After four hours of abuse he finally stopped and went sleep. I passed out on the floor. Blood everywhere. My cat was licking my face that is what woke me up. He through my phone through the window. SO I couldn't call anyone. I crawled next door rang the door bell and passed out. When i woke up I was in an ambulance. He was still in the house along with his son. They took him immediately to jail with no bond.
During this altercation I did try and call the police but he took the phone before I could give them a address.

My kids was damaged behind this. My older two one being a girl really have trust issues with men. My son trust no one. They really have separation anxiety they hardly leave me alone. My two that's by him, my youngest is confused but lashes out at times. He loves his dad but knows what his dad has done. He had to have lots of counseling. My oldest by him hates him. I know its a strong word but its true. He has nothing to say or even look his way.

I have healed from some of my wounds. I do have visions of what happened. I have trauma to my back and never will heal from it. I do have several visible bruises. But I call them my war wounds. My goal and passion now is to speak and spread the word on domestic violence. One woman at a time. I thank you for giving me this chance to share.