An Unbreakable and Uplifting Warrior's Story: Ashlee

"Trust yourself, you have survived a lot, and you will survive whatever is coming.” – Anonymous

So, I’ve been putting off getting this story out there. One: the raw emotions and trauma that had to be processed to even be able to revisit this. Two: This can be a very triggering topic. Three: There’s always three different versions of the truth and I want to make sure this is accurate as possible for everyone involved. However, getting this story out there can also be an inspiration to someone that may be going through a similar situation. Because this event happened almost 7 years ago to the day (Sept 12, 2015) and also September is suicide awareness month, I felt impelled to share my story.

Before I start, I’d like to give a little back brief leading up to the event. I was married for almost 7 years, and we had three children together. It was everything I always wanted, a family and father for my children. The verbal abuse didn’t matter because on the outside we were the perfect family. His mental instability and bipolar was an excuse for all of the mental and verbal abuse I endured. the physical abuse towards the kids was also normal because we wanted them to be productive adults. Sound familiar yet? Let me get more in to detail, he never hit me; however, we had no dressers because he punched them and destroyed them. We had holes in the walls so often I had no pictures hanging up. We walked on eggshells especially at dinner time, because if the kids (2 and 3 at the time) didn’t eat all of their food, he would shove plates in their face. Or force feed them to the point they would throw up and make them eat that too. God, forbid I stood up for my babies because I would have things thrown at me. But he didn’t hit me, not yet anyways.

Eventually I was just tired. Tired of being treated like a child and feeling like I was living in a cage. So, I made a few friends. One of them was a male and he was so nice to me. always caring and checking up on me. Before I knew it, I was emotionally invested. After a huge fight and being kicked out I was forced to stay in a hotel room. Of course, my friend came to check up on me in my vulnerable moment. Naturally one thing led to another. Months before this I was accused of cheating and honestly never thought of this. eventually my husband found out. Made my life hell, which I thought I deserved for what I had done. I cut ties with that friend. My husband convinced me that I was losing my mind and mentally unstable. So off to counseling I went, and this is where it backfired on my husband. Because My counselor had made it clear to me, I was being mentally abused. according to him she was also crazy, and I was to switch counselors immediately! But I carried on and her being a mandated reporter, made it clear that it was him or my kids. I chose my kids after that day. I prepared to leave our home and go to a women’s homeless shelter; however, they told me to get a restraining order to maintain structure for my children. 

3 months of peace went by, of course I had to deal with nasty text messages on what a whore and bad mother I was, but I was finally safe in my home. Until I was guilt tripped into allowing him back into the home to cook dinner for our children. His last dinner. At first the dinner was going amazing. The kids were so happy to see their daddy at home. Then something switched, he started calling me names and being mean. When I ask him to leave, he begged for one more chance to put the children to bed. Little did I know that was the biggest mistake I had made so far. He didn’t leave, he stayed and told me what a piece of shit I was. Using me as a verbal punching bag, and all I wanted him to do was leave. I had been in the air force at the time and been at work all day long. I tried my best to get him to the front door and even threated to call the police. He guilt tripped me once again by getting on his knees begging and praying for a chance, only to curse me out a min later. I honestly just wanted to leave, but he had me trapped. So, my first instinct was to hit him, maybe stun him a little bit so I could get out of the front door.

Second biggest regret of the night. After I punched him, he stood firm staring at me. He proceeded to take out his retainer and knocked my phone out of my hand. He grabbed my neck and punched me in the face several times before dragging me into the bedroom: while I grabbed the doorways to try and free myself. The sun was setting so the room was getting dark as he pulled me down by my hair as my nose was bleeding. Punching me in the back of the head, I pretended to pass out, so he let up some. But there was still nowhere to go. I went to get up and he pulled me back down, choking me so hard that I was about to pass out. All I could do was picture my dead body lying there, looking under my bed at the dark, as he said, ” we are all going to die tonight, bitch”. I remember screaming but no sound came out saying, “no”. I somehow managed to get his hands off my throat. We stood up as he continued to punch me in the face, making me see stars, proceeding to get me in a halfway head lock. This is where I had to do something quick. So, I grabbed his balls so hard that he had to let me go, and that he did. I wish this was the end, but it’s not. 

Ashlee, four hours after being almost beaten to death

He had finally snapped out of it, so at this point to survive and protect my children I had to make him feel like he was in control. I had grabbed him so hard he immediately went to the kitchen and threw up. I had to sit there and listen to him for four hours and reassure him that I wouldn’t call the police. I didn’t want to compromise his firefighting career or fatherhood. Which I meant at that time, however after he finally left the home at 1am, I had no choice but to call the police. I had looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize my own face at all! I dialed 911, and the dispatcher had assured me that they had him in custody, and he was being belligerent. I didn’t think anything of it until they took me to the hospital. After they did scans on my face and neck a detective had come in the room and told me he had committed suicide. So many emotions. I was distraught but at the same time, relieved. How is one supposed to feel about this? For lack of better words, this was overwhelming. The worst part was the next day, I had no friends or family to come get me from the hospital, so I had to take a taxi home. The driver refused to look and my face and when I got home my kids didn’t recognize me. They cried at the sight of me and only recognized my voice. Not to mention I had to go places to set up a military funeral and explain to his parents, who don’t speak the best English, what had happened. 

I share this story to be a voice for those who didn’t make it out alive, and to be an inspiration to those in a similar situation so this doesn’t become their story. I hold this story near and dear to me, to be a reminder of how strong I have been and continue to be. If you hang in there long enough, your story can have a happy ending. Is it easy to get there? Hell no!! Is it worth it? Hell yes! Are you worth it? Always!! Remember, a lot of people can listen to your story but not everyone will hear it. 

If anyone reading this would like to know more or need help in a situation, please don’t hesitate to email me, I will help out as much as I can with resources.