Beauty from Chaos

Before I start, a word of warning. This story contains sensitive content, and some names will be omitted to respect certain people’s privacy. With that in mind, thank you all for your time and attention.

April of 2019. I had left my parents to start a new life. It wasn’t terribly glamorous, but I was supposedly living life to the max- making new friends, hanging out, occasionally partying- what more could I ask for? After a lifetime of being told that my autistic side would fuck my life up I had finally defied the odds- I was free as a bird and enjoying it all. Life was working out for me.

Until it happened.

It started with an innocent run-in at a convenience store. The usual pleasantries, exchanging contact information in the form of social media platforms. Within a week of seeing him I was convinced we belonged together- we shared the same faith, we loved hanging out, and each of us felt like we completed each other. I ended up moving in with this man who lived with his immediate family and made ties instantly. A couple weeks later on my birthday, he proposed to me. I was on cloud nine. Little did I know, it wouldn’t stay that way for long. For the record, the man was a self-confessed illegal immigrant. Also on the record, I was extremely trusting to the point of being naïve. The first fact alone should have sent me running for the hills, but in the spirit of the moment I was too happy to care.

Fast forward a couple months. I’d become more than just a potential family member. My fiancé’s mother had seen fit to burden me with all the housework, despite the fact I was working two jobs to pay the rent. My free time was severely restricted, my phone monitored daily, and for slight accidents/offenses I was slapped or kicked. Like an idiot I attributed it to my growing ignorance and my autistic side, spurring an extensive search for ways to improve on what I had previously considered was my best behavior. After spending time with my family, he proposed we try for a baby. After striking a promise that we would be married properly in a church, I consented, but as we’ll see, it did very little to rectify our problems. A month later I was coerced into a civil marriage by his mom because “I want my son to be legal”.

December came rolling around. Any pretense of a perfect relationship had long since flown out the window. I was still being scolded for the littlest things, as well as being punched, slapped and kicked anywhere but my uterus. I continued to spiral downward because I attributed it to my growing pregnancy-induced carelessness. Even when I was brutally sodomized, I didn’t want to report it- we still loved each other, right?

January 24th, early morning hours. My husband and I had just wrapped up watching a movie and were drifting off to sleep when a normal thing happened. My phone pinged with a text. Before I could properly react, he’d grabbed the phone out of my hand to check for himself. What happened next, as they say, decided the fate of nations. I’d gotten a text from a girl friend of mine that I’d worked with, but he’d scrolled to other messages and seen that I’d asked for rides from another friend I still kept in touch with. The customary slaps and punches came almost immediately, followed by something far more sinister. By that point I was already several months pregnant and showed quite a bit.

He deliberately hit me with a closed fist, twice, in the general area of the uterus.

After several unsuccessful attempts to de-escalate the situation, I was delivered an ultimatum- to leave the house when I woke up. I wasted no time packing some clothes into a bag with my important documents and what I assumed was left of my dignity. After calling my parents and some friends (keep in mind it was around 3-4 in the morning), I found the courage to press charges against a man who never loved me or wanted me for myself- only for his personal gain and glory. A man who had known my most intimate secrets down to my disabilities and played them to his sick and twisted advantages. In the end I successfully placed a restraining order against him, thus saving me and my baby from a lifetime of suffering and abuse.

In closing, a message to anyone going through this. You’re not alone, you’re never alone. And just because someone labels you lazy or incompetent because of your disabilities does not immediately make you one. Hope and help exist, and there will always be light at the end of the tunnel.