I lay on the couch, my head pounding and my neck so stiff I can barely move it from the concussion I sustained the night before, starting at my two little boys wondering how the hell I got to this point in my life at such a young age. At twenty-two, I was the mom of two boys under the age of two and married to a man (I use that term loosely) who physically, mentally, and emotionally abused me every chance he got. Every minute of every hour of every day, I was walking on eggshells, hoping not to trigger another episode.

I met him in an AOL chat room, back when that was a thing. He sent me pictures and I figured “What the hell, I’ll meet up with him.” Of course now, I’ve watched enough ID TV to know how stupid this was but I was eighteen-years-old and I did some dumb stuff (haven’t we all).

He was twenty-three years old when we met and he had no driver’s license. I drove over to his house and picked him up. We hug out all night into the morning talking. The only thing he told me that I thought was negative was that he got high. But so what, right? So I started hanging out with him daily. Now I see it as clingy, but at that time I saw it as he really liked me.

Stupid, stupid, stupid me didn’t see the red flags then. If I had, I would have high-tailed it in the opposite direction. But I didn’t and so it didn’t take long for the two of us to get married and for me to get pregnant. This is a way better marriage than the pyromaniac, right? Nope! Wrong yet again, Niki!

I remember the first huge issue we ever had. It wasn’t a physical altercation, but it was a catalyst for what was to come.

His dad got minor league baseball tickets from his work and asked us if we’d like to go. I was pregnant and stuck in the house all day so I was like “Heck yeah, let’s go! It’ll be fun.” But it ended up NOT being fun AT ALL!

My ex drank a lot by that time (something he neglected to tell me at the beginning of things), and this night was no different. Since I was pregnant, and underage, I was the designated driver. During the ride home, he threw up in my car because he was so drunk. I was LIVID! I told him that I thought it was ridiculous that he was that drunk and how I didn’t think it was fair that I would have to clean it when we got home.

I don’t remember everything he said to me that night but that was the first time he told me I was worthless. That I was lucky to be with him because no other man would deal with a nag like me. That I- yes, I- was the reason that he drank so much.

I couldn’t believe it! Who the hell tells someone that they supposedly love, and who’s pregnant with their child all of this. Plus, I couldn’t figure out for the life of me what I had done so wrong to make him drink the way he did. I cried all the way home. Once we arrived at the house, I cleaned the car with the help of my mom and hurried to bed.

The next morning he woke me up.

“Good morning,” he said with a smile on his face.

“Good morning,” I said rather shortly.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Don’t you remember last night?”

“Not really,” he said.

So I told him all about how he got wasted, threw up in the car, told me I was worthless, and then how I had to clean the car.

“I’m so, so, so, sorry,” he said. “It will never happen again.”

And I believed it. I accepted his apology. I chalked it up as a big mistake, one that wouldn’t happen again.

But boy was I wrong, and boy did it get much, much worse…

Stay tuned for Part 2 next week