by Taina Patmore

Created on: June 15, 2009   Last Updated: June 22, 2009

I'm not the kind of woman who lets a man hit her. I never was. I always told the men in my life, "cheat on me or beat me and you're done." I was always a woman who took pride in being strong. An ex-boyfriend tried, once upon a time, but that was the last time he saw me. My grandmother kicked my grandfather out just for hitting her one time. I was just like her, or so I thought.

That's why I kept my secret for so long. I was embarrassed. Being abused meant being weak and I would rather suffer, then admit weakness. That was the kind of woman I really was, but how did I get there?

Contrary to popular televised depictions of domestic violence; where in the heat of a fight, a man punches a woman for the very first time, it doesn't happen overnight. At least, it didn't happen like that to me.

My ex and I always had very passionate arguments. His had a very short fuse, and anger always incapacitated my ability to hear my own voice at a normal decibel level. So, before we knew it we were screaming at each other as if we were in the middle of a WWF smack down. For two years, that was the extent of it. When we fought it was a screaming match, that's all. That is, until the engagement when things started to take a turn.

At first it was just a pillow thrown across the room at me after a disagreement about our bridal party. Then bigger objects were thrown. Eventually there was pushing. Each time it happened, the arguments had gotten more and more heated. Sometimes we fought nose to nose, screaming into each other's faces. The words exchanged became more and more hateful. Personal attacks stabbed to the core and the anger level rose. I won't claim innocence. I instigated the intensity. I am a skilled arguer and am quite astute at the kind of personal behavior people think others don't notice. These are the buttons I learned to push and I wielded the power with cruelty. So the first time he grabbed the back of my head and hair and shook, I blamed myself. I started it. I pushed him. It was my fault.

To look at him or even talk to him, you would never think he was capable of abuse. He had the sweet smile of the unintelligent and was extremely shy in public. Those people who had seen him as an aggressive drunk, however, might have gotten hints of what was possible, but more often than not he passed out before he could become that angry drunk. Everyone knew him as a laid back, passive guy, with a heart of gold. That's how I knew him too.

There was another side though. One I don't

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