"You’re a bitch. Your mom’s a bitch. And I’m done dealing with you.” I couldn’t believe he was telling me this at 6 a.m., just three months after I had his baby. And I certainly didn’t think our so-called relationship could end this easily. My pastor often says “It’s going to get better. If it doesn’t, God will provide a way of escape for you!” And for me, this was absolutely it.
We’d spent the morning arguing on the phone about who should keep our daughter while she was sick. My choices were letting her stay with him or having my grandparents keep her, while I worked first shift. I chose my grandparents. Logic? He never had to be responsible for a well-baby, let alone a sick one. At least with my grandparents I didn’t need to worry about them doing the right thing. Shoot, they helped keep ME alive all these years! Needless to say this made “baby daddy” very unhappy and we’ve been mortal enemies ever since. Alright, y’all know I’m exaggerating. We’re not full blown enemies but I can admit that we don’t get along most days.
See, up until this point, I did exactly what he told me to do. I was scared. No reason in particular. He yelled a lot – threw things against the wall – and well, I don’t like a lot of commotion. In order to avoid the child-like temper tantrums, when he said “JUMP,” I jumped – no time to ask “How high?” There was something about this day though, that wouldn’t allow me to jump. Once again I was simply tired. The baby may have only been 3 months at the time but I knew that I was doing her a disservice by allowing myself to be mistreated. Let’s be real, you can only bend over backwards so many times before you snap. Some may be more flexible than others. It took me three whole years to get to my absolute breaking point.
I should’ve caught on when I was seven months pregnant and he invited me to the movies. We drove my car because he didn’t have one at the time. While in line to purchase the tickets he asked “You got this?” Trust me, he wasn’t joking. Huh? Did you for real just ask me to go to the movies and then expect me to pay? Yep, sure did. The current ‘me’ would’ve left his behind standing in the middle of the cinema. Instead, I opened my wallet and obliged. Or maybe it should’ve been the time I showed up at his mom’s house after one of my prenatal appointments only to find the barber shop chick running out of the front door. Perhaps I should’ve called it quits when he got stabbed or even when he threatened to knock out all of the windows in my house because I refused to take our four-week-old daughter out in the cold to visit him. For some reason though, it took him calling my mom a “bitch” to take me over the edge. Nobody talks about my mama!
Although unintentional, there's no coincidence that this particular story is highlighted in chapter 8 of She: A Sista Girls' Guide to Overcoming Her Past & Pursuing A Limitless Future. After all, 8 is the number of new beginnings and this incident was definitely the starting point of my new journey.
Honey, I've got stories for days, and some powerful lessons that will impact your walk as a woman and a Christian. I'm so excited for the release of "SHE" on January 16th! Pre-orders officially begin this Thursday but rumor has it, if you click here you can secure your signed copy early!