He Hit Me First

I had a C-PTSD episode in the middle of the night. Writing it down is one of many things that helps me process sometimes, and it occurred to me that it may or may not be helpful for some to read. I’m hoping it might.

I apologize in advance for the rawness of this piece and want to express that the following writing has some violence which may disturb some readers and may not be suitable for everyone.

I woke up with a headache I’d had for three days. Before I woke up, I was dreaming about a close family member and his now ex. girlfriend. I thought we were friends back then. When I woke up, I had a flashback. “Time Travelled” back to a time almost thirty-five years ago…

My ex-boyfriend punched me in the mouth when I was three months pregnant with our daughter. This wasn’t the first or the last time he beat on me, but it was the one, and only time I ever hit him back.

We lived in a one-bedroom apartment on the twenty third floor of a building downtown, that at the time was called ‘Penthouse Towers’. After he punched me, I ran to the bathroom. I was very afraid and had visualized him throwing me off of the balcony and making it look like a suicide. For the record, I am not and never have been suicidal. When I tried to shut the bathroom door, he wouldn’t let me. I couldn’t get out of the bathroom; he blocked the door. He was begging me to hit him back, kept saying he deserved it this time. “go ahead hit me, just hit me, I deserve it” Then in a more aggressive tone, "Come Ooon! Hit me I deserve it!!" There was only one way I was getting out of there.

I’m not sure what came over me. I felt the heartbreak and sadness, the grief and then anger welt up inside me like a volcano about to erupt. I was also very hormonal. Maybe it was my baby girl inside me that gave me the courage, maybe I was afraid I would lose her if I didn’t fight for her, none the less whatever it was that caused me to let it out … I hit him back. Punched him right in the nose and got the hell out of there fast. He was over a foot taller than me and definitely outweighed me by a good seventy pounds but my fists trajectory was on point and it slowed him down and blinded him long enough for me to escape. He hit me first.

He had knocked my tooth out, and when I touched my mouth the tooth was extremely loose and dangly barely holding by pieces of flesh. I pushed the tooth back up into place and I left it in place. I was going to go to the dentist, but I procrastinated in the shock, fear and stress of the violence I was feeling. I was a little overwhelmed with my pregnancy and thinking about how I was going to protect her and myself. I was broke and all of my finances were tied into the basic necessities of life. I was scared and suffering from cognitive dissonance and C-PTSD. I had so much cortisol in my blood stream I didn’t know what day it was. I had always used my sense of humour and put on a good face for everyone, and I was too ashamed to share how weak and stupid I felt so I always hid the abuses. I had also been gaslighted so badly throughout my life by every man or boy I knew. I never thought I was worth it or ever going to be enough, and nobody would understand or believe how bad I was hurting inside. The emotional and psychological wounds didn't go away in three weeks and I had to find ways to cope and keep moving.

I became aware in later years, that anytime I ever spoke up about injustice or feeling wronged; not just for myself but also for others, I was gaslighted and told to shut up. Blamed for making something out of nothing, disregarded, minimized, slandered, shamed or discredited. Even when there was clear evidence. At that time, when my fat lip and swelling went down in a few weeks … I realized the tooth had healed in place…

Then, I flashed to another time. This is how flashbacks and trauma responses can get complex, sometimes one incident can remind or have me flash to another totally different time and place. My “Time Travelling” doesn’t run on a continual linear path. It jumps all over and rarely on a straight path. If that makes any sense.

I flashed to Seven months later in time. A close male family member punched me in the mouth again and knocked my two front teeth in, which were already damaged to the roots from the previous punch by my Ex. Once again; He hit me first.

I fought back. Some might say I was “A Fighter” and this was “Reactive Abuse” But I made my choices and I would say .. I was toxic. It’s as simple as that. This young man was probably close to a foot taller than me, and also outweighed me by at least fifty pounds… but I’m fast. I’m pretty sure he felt the wrath of a mother’s fierceness during post partum depression that night. My baby girl was one and a half months old then.

This family member tried to overstep my boundaries, by telling me how I should define my role as a woman and mother. He argued that I shouldn’t be mad at my boyfriend for getting drunk and stoned and missing feeding our premature baby. My Ex. was supposed to be caring for our baby while I went out for a few hours of respite, and he had already promised No Drugs in the house. He swore to me, and we agreed, he wouldn’t get drunk because it was my night to go out. I don’t know why I believed him, I guess I wanted to believe him, and as they say; “people believe what they want to believe”. Rest assured the boundaries were set. My Ex. crossed them. It was really none of anyone else’s business least of all the male family member and his girlfriend. I think it may be possible that this family member had repressed guilt about his own fatherly role. He tried to define mine and my ex’s roles on that night. My family member kept telling me to shut up, but then when I would stop talking, he would go on and try gaslighting me. Telling me how I should behave and how it was ok for my ex to choose to behave the way he did because he was a man and the father. He wouldn’t stop talking but he kept telling me to shut up when I would respond to him. He warned me not to “Talk Back” and when I did, he punched me in the mouth.

Neither my family member or his girlfriend knew it at the time, but my ex. was already on his last chance, after hitting me again the last time and breaking a musical ornament my grandmother had given me during one of his common rages (It was a small statuette of Mary holding baby Jesus and it played Silent Night when you wound it up). This Ex. boyfriend was extremely violent and irresponsible when he was drinking and doing drugs. We had already agreed the last time he hit me; No drinking or drugs around our baby. I was very brain damaged from all of the extreme cortisol and trauma I had already experienced but I wasn’t taking any more shit from men around my daughter, so after the family member punched me, blood spattering from my mouth. I gave him what any man would have given him in my shoes that night. I then packed some clothes in a bassinette with my baby and with the clothes on my back, and babe in arms, I left.

Once again this resulted in gaslighting and more gaslighting. That was all I ever experienced from anyone I ever stood up to. Most of the gaslighting was for standing my ground and being female. It just freaking unnerves people when you live your own life and set your own boundaries doesn’t it. That was thirty-four years ago, and I’m sure the abusive people and their flying monkeys are still gossiping and gaslighting behind my back about it.

Flash forward and “Time Travelling” to Ten years later from that incident.

Another completely different ex-boyfriend tried to hit me … ONCE. We were in a very heated argument. I called Time Out! I tried to get out of the bedroom. He wouldn’t let me pass through the doorway, he kept shoving me back with his chest and body like a Sumu wrestler. I kept yelling “Time Out! Time Out! This isn’t getting us anywhere!” putting my hands in the time out signal. When he wouldn’t let me pass, I tried to get past him and he grabbed me by the throat. Threw me up against the wall and snarled at me, “If you were a guy I’d have cleaned your clock by now!” Once again, he tried to .. Hit me first. I reached my hands up underneath his arms and split his grip sideways pushing away on both sides and then pushed him back with both my hands on his chest. Then I snarled back at him through the shaking and tears, “If I was a guy, you would have expected me to have hit you by now!!” “But I’m a woman!.. with enough fucking self control to call Time Out!!”

All he said then was “Real people don’t take Time Out” He never ever tried to hit me again. I’ve always been passionate about the things I feel strongly about, but also compassionate for the ones who needed it. I guess I never lost that fight inside me. I’m sure my ex thought about it and chose to gain a little self control and we both calmed down. We talked about it later and I think we both learned from that passionate argument.

Even throughout many conversations after, and although I became quite accustomed to ‘grey rocking’ and navigating these conversations to avoid arguing with some people I couldn’t avoid contact altogether, I still experienced more gaslighting for being a woman who can think and talk for herself for years going forward, at work, at home, at play. I could never do enough, I was never worth the time or effort, I could never be enough.

There were too many of these incidents for me to count in my lifetime. Far too many, and every single time I was abused emotionally, physically, sexually or financially; every and anytime I stuck up for myself, I was gaslighted, criticized, minimized, discredited or disregarded. If I was a man, it would’ve been water off a duck’s back for me to speak up; almost expected for me to speak up. If I was a man who hit someone back after being provoked or physically attacked, nobody would’ve even noticed or even batted an eye.

After writing, crying and then breathing a little bit I tried going back to sleep with an awful headache. I don’t live there in the past anymore, but I’ve learned and I’ve learned. And my body, heart, mind and soul obviously remember it all. I’ve relived many traumatic events by one means or another throughout the years. My heart is not for anyone to play with anymore. I will never be a placeholder or someone’s source of supply again. I don’t expect an apology from any of those who were; or are gaslighting me behind my back. I’ve learned these types will use any means of ammunition to sabotage my efforts in life. However; although I have gone no contact with some past abusers and have no idea about their present lives, I believe that some of them have grown and changed behaviours as well. I believe this.. because I want to believe it. This includes my past and my present life.

But know this…I will hurt, I will cry, I will feel and process all of it. I will get over it. As many times as it takes for as long as it takes, I will never shut up about injustice or abuse. I will recognize and empathise; I will rise above and advocate for victims of violence and criminal harassment. I will heal or die trying. I will never ever again be afraid to speak up. To speak the truth. And the truth is…Abusers. Choose. To. Abuse. My resolve will always be ‘Abuse is Abuse.’ And ‘criminal harassment is criminal harassment’, in anybody’s name.

And, to that woman who was dating my family member … I wrote in a letter I never sent: “Your brokenness isn’t my problem this day, one less thing are the words I will say”. I hope you get help and find all of the unconditional love you deserve. I hope you grow to realize that women who put other women down through gossip and gaslighting are on a whole other level of low. In my opinion, that’s not a wise way to make what you think are friends. After many years and a lot of processing. I don’t think I was wrong to fight back. I never hit him when he went down so I don’t feel like I became the thing that fought with no honour or broke me. After all … He hit me first.

Dana Mary Colleen Campbell March 17, 2024