Happy Sunday beautiful Conglomerates!!! Today, I have a treat to share. Long-time friend, fellow sister in christ, full-time wife & mother has stepped forward as a Guest Inspiration to share her testimony with us. I have watched her growth & admire the woman she has become, despite the obstacles she has overcome. She has evolved past her testimony & is wise beyond her years. To see her now is to understand that her growth has come with great sacrifice. I appreciate her for recognizing that there is substance in her testimony. Together, we pray that what she says will help other women find the strength to step up & speak out against mistreatment- physical, sexual, verbal & mental abuse.
Let us welcome her.
My name is Nadia Shannon and I’m a survivor of domestic violence. I believe my story began as a child. I was a witness of abuse between the ages of 3-6 years old. My parents were married and I watched my mother get abused physically, emotionally, mentally & verbally. As a child you really don’t know what’s happening, so at the time it didn’t affect me. Where I was affected, was in the separation and divorce my parents went through; once my mother finally gained enough strength to get out of the horrible relationship. In the years to come, my father was always there for my sister & I. He was and still is an amazing father. Although he didn’t have great characteristics of a husband, my father never separated himself from his children. It wasn’t until my teen years that I started to feel the horrible abuse from my father. Around the age of 14, when I was trying to find myself, entering high school, and showing signs of liking boys is when my father started to become verbally abusive. Many times, as minorities, we write it off as being protective or as if it is acceptable because he’s Spanish but in reality, verbal abuse is never all right. As time went on, I began to grow a dislike for him and started to, in a sense, see what my mother went through. My father still showed his love and affection but when he was angry he was enraged- cursing and very demeaning. I started to hate it so much but somehow I ended up being attracted to that very type of boy.
There was this guy who I knew from middle school and because I moved we lost touch. One day, I went to a high school basketball game with my cousin and we reconnected. We were freshmen in high school and by then he hit his growth spurt. Furthermore, I had developed assets I didn’t have in elementary school. We exchanged numbers and my life changed forever. We were on an off from 9th grade to senior year. It was a long distance relationship but because my father lived in the same town we were able to see each other more than a little bit. The relationship was so rocky that my family warned me it wasn’t healthy. One particular incident I remember was in the summer of my junior year of high school. We got into an argument and he slammed my head into a brick wall. This was the first time he ever put his hands on me. I was in shock. In my mind I tried to reason with myself– “Its no big deal, Nadia.” “Don’t trip, he’s never put his hands on you before.” “You better not cry, it’s not that serious.” But regardless, tears started to fall. He looked at me and said, “Man it wasn’t even that hard, you’ll be alright.” Little did I know, this would open the door to what would become 3 years of hell. Fast-forward 2 years later, I became pregnant with our son. We moved in together and the gates of Hell flew open. He cheated, had women in my home when I was at work, would steal my car, beat me, force me to have sex, break my phone so I had no contact with family and trap me inside our apartment. All the while still telling me he loved me. Somehow, I still believed him.
This was the darkest time of my life. I felt trapped and lost with no way out. I kept holding on to the thought of “I want my son to have what I didn’t. He needs his parents in the same home together.” So somewhere in my immature, 18/19 year-old mind it was all worth the abuse. On one particular night, I found a thong on the passenger floor of my car. I flipped out and had enough. I hid my car keys in the window seal of our bedroom so he couldn’t steal my car. He beat me so badly. He tore my clothes off me and he trashed the entire apartment looking for my keys. The entire time it was like my conscience was talking to me. One minute I was telling myself to just take the beating, that it will be all right and I reminding myself that I cannot tell him where the keys are. The other part of me was telling myself “Nadia it’s not worth it, give him the keys.” The entire time our son was sleep in his room. He finally got in his own car and left. I was naked in the corner of my room soaked with lotion, hair products & powder. In all of his rage, he was pouring these items all over me. When they ran out he would throw the empty bottles at me, etc.
I promise you, while this was happening to me I screaming at the top of my lungs but no one came to save me. He threw my phone in the fish tank so I had no way of calling 911 or my parents. When he left, I got into the shower to clean myself off. He came back into the house, kicked the bathroom door in and intentionally turned the hot water up to burn me. I fell out the shower trying to escape the scorching water. At this point, I was yelling for him to kill me. I didn’t want to be tortured anymore. He took a knife to me but the sound of my son’s cry saved my life. He left the bathroom, took my son out his crib and left. I knew this was my time to escape. I dressed myself as fast as possible and left the house. I hid in a bush because he was circling the block and I stayed there for an hour, terrified. I got in my car and drove to a friend’s house. After that night, I knew it was time to get out of the relationship. I finally made it known to my best friend what I’ve been going through and she helped me take the next steps toward survival. I changed the locks in the apartment, kicked him out and started my independence. Three months after I left, there was one more altercation that landed me in the hospital fighting for the life of my new unborn child. Sadly, it took these life-threatening situations for me to realize LOVE DOES NOT HURT. Love is kind and by the grace of God, I survived. I wanted to share a piece of my story because I believe there are so many young women who currently are afraid to get out. So many young women are believing the words they’re being told by their abuser, just like I did– “You are nothing without me.” “No one will love you like I do.” “No one will ever want you.” I am here to tell you the devil IS A LIE. God took me out of my darkest storms. Beloved he will rescue you as well.
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He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. Psalms 147:3
Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Matthew 11:28