Journal entry: 10/4/2003
I’ve been in Georgia for about 2 months, living in this shit-hole that they try to call an apartment. There’s this smell to this town, you can smell the ocean but it mixes with these Spanish Moss trees and the sewage plant, so…yeah. I came down here to try and make this marriage work, or at least function properly, but it’s just the same story rewritten over and over on different pages.
He hit me for the first time 2 days ago; he’s slapped me before, but this was a fucking punch. I’ve been in cat-fights with other girls and I’ve slapped him before as well, but this was a H-I-T. I don’t think I ever really prepared myself for the possibility that I would be punched by a man. Even when I was raped, he didn’t hit me; like somehow that would have been going to far….weird. I know I can be a bitch and I don’t ever attempt to make apologies for that, however I feel like if you’re going to land a punch then there should have been some reason for it; but there wasn’t. I was feeding Jordan and singing that damn Elmo song he loves (which makes me want to stab my eardrums) and Rusty came in pissed off at something and I said “Ok, can you not yell at me right now, I’m feeding the baby”……and that was it. In front of Jordan? In front of my goddamn son? I was stunned for a minute and when I looked back at Jordan he was just so calm, he was looking right into my eyes, into my soul….it’s like he knew what I was thinking and feeling. It was the oddest feeling I’ve ever had. I have a bruise on my cheekbone and my parents will be here in a few days for a visit so I hope to God it’s gone by then…..or maybe it’ll still be there and then my Dad will kick the shit out of him. Ugh. I gotta make a change, this man will be the death of me.