Abusive Relationships

All posts in the Abusive Relationships category

He’s Not a Monster

Published November 18, 2013 by Kappaloca

I fail to comprehend why any person in their right mind can justify the actions of this Atrocity.

Am I delusional?

Is she herself deluded?

I do want to agree with her on one point though, He is not a Monster. He is a Sick, demented, twisted man. Whether it took a month a year or ten years before he did it the first time. The point is he did and if it was not for the fact that her children had witnessed this barbaric incident she might be dead today.

Some of the comments left under the article said: He did not mean to harm you, he meant to KILL you. They are right.

I sincerely hope you get the help you yourself need dear Lady.



Daddy Dearest:

Published October 9, 2013 by Kappaloca

a letter I wrote a while back but need to get off my chest as i know there are many others that feel the same and are being treated the same:


Hi “Daddy”,
I should have addressed this letter to someone I once called my love my sweetheart my darling, but now I cannot but send it to my “daddy” because that is what you have become.
I have to answer to you like a child and get reprimanded like a child because as per you after 30 years I have still not learnt any lessons.
You play mind games with me and think it’s justified?
I need your “permission” to go see my parents???????? Since when?
I have over a 30+ year period tried very hard to stand by you, I have tried to be understanding and believed that we could work things out, but things are getting hard for us all to bear.
You go on 3 day drinking binges and believe that it is your right to call me a fucking dumb bitch, a worthless piece of shit, a whore, unfit mother and worse. You erupt into fits of anger and wake me up in the middle of the night to “FETCH” you an axe so you can behead me??!?!?!?!?! Are you serious???

The neighbours have had to witness you chasing me down the street with a pitchfork, You stand over me with knives and make me an offer of choosing by which blade length I would like to die? You grab the broom away from me because I am too fucking stupid to know how to push a broom properly. You clean and clean and “clean” the kitchen sink and counter tops. If it’s such a big deal to have a clean kitchen why don’t you scrub the floors as well? What about the bathroom where you have to wash yourself? Why don’t you clean YOUR bedroom? I am on a daily basis told to shut the Fuck up. To think before I speak. To think before I do anything. To think before I go anywhere.
My food is never good enough.( Normally ends up for the dogs ) My cleaning not good enough, so what is the use of doing it anyway.
Does your bosses know you sit in your office and drink and hide your empty bottles? You drive home drunk and drink further and then terrorise me and the children until 2 or 3 in the morning before you pass out.
Every time in the past that I have held a job you have in some way and some time made it impossible for me to continue, you have put me to shame by arriving at my place of work drunk. My children are too ashamed to bring friends home, because they get embarrassed by your Behaviour.
You attack me verbally about my capabilities but I have not ever seen you even once try to do something to alleviate the problems. I am too afraid to discuss anything with you, because I know that sooner or later you will throw it back at me with a vengeance.
Your outbursts are getting worse and worse. You refuse to see that you have a problem  ????????????????????????????????
I wonder if your bosses are aware that you have a problem? I wonder if they will offer you help in this regard. I have tried to help you by having you forcibly take medication, have implants, being understanding and looking for and making excuses for you. Will they?
You constantly remind me that you want to drink yourself to death because it’s your right. What about our rights? Me and your children?
You have sold off all policies and have now started taking loans on your pension. You threaten to take the children off your medical aid and have the electricity cut. Who are you trying to spite here ”Daddy”?
You have taken away my self worth, but you will NEVER break my spirit.
You tell me to get the Fuck out of your life but now that I want to leave you tell me it’s not going happen????? What’s up with that?
Why don’t you let me leave so that I CAN go?
I have isolated myself from everything and everybody but my children. Since I am home and not working any more ( 11month’s ) I have become to afraid to leave the house to go to the shop and I have to ask your permission to go see a Dr., a friend, have the car to go to town. Oh yeah i forgot, i need your permission to use the car too.
Does the fear you see in me and your children give you a high? Does it make you feel superior? Do you like that face you see in the mirror in the mornings? Do you for even one moment think that this is all normal?
Regarding my tattoos: It’s my choice, it’s my body, it’s my freedom. I DO NOT need your permission – DADDY!
I am warning you today that if you come home drunk or try to stop me and the children from leaving this house I will send this e-mail to your Bosses, the Police, my family, your friends and as many Lawyers as I can get who will listen to me. I have already passed it on to someone I CAN trust.

Ps. Do not threaten me ever ever ever again.

She wears my ring … Forever (Part 1)

Published October 8, 2013 by Kappaloca

A few months ago I went on a road trip with a very very special friend.

She expressed the need for just taking the road and going somewhere she had never been. I suggested a few places down the Coastline and she  asked me to join her. She had recently lost her husband and I was still enjoying my new found “freedom”. (The ability to go away for a few days and not come home to a drunk, aggressive man)

We  set off on a Journey to no where. Just the two of us in a Country where anything is possible. The land of Milk and Honey where the sea flows into the rivers and the sea sand is snow white. We stopped wherever we wanted to. We ate what we wanted, when we wanted without a care in the world.  The best thing we did was buying a piping hot loaf of bread and crispy baked Chips at a Portuguese Fisheries shop and stuff it into the hollowed out bread with farm butter that melted into it. we laughed and listened to shitty music. Let our hair down and just behaved like idiots. We camped at the most awkward places and got up at 4am in the morning to have Coffee and wait for the sun to come up.  Got drunk at a Beach side Resort all on our own. (well I did, she does not drink) Fed the seagulls and showered in the nude. We had the whole camp site to ourselves.

The last part of our journey we were constantly being sent sms messages by a “friend” who she only knew from Social Media. He invited us to come and stay at his place right on the seaside. He made it clear that he would let us have the house for the weekend and would not interfere with us. We took a chance and went to meet this guy. From the moment he met us, he only had eyes for her. They stayed up all night and talked. Just talked about anything and everything. Lots of laughter and lots of jokes.

What was the most fantastic times of our life soon had to end as we had homes and lives to return to.

In less than a week he convinced her to return and spend more time with him. She fell head over heels in love with a man she met briefly and only chatted to occasionally on Social Media.

And so Begins the real story: 

After a mere 3 months they got engaged. I was the first person to be notified and was thrilled for them, but had also asked her if things were not moving along way too fast. He drank and was very attached to his parents who lived just up the road. He was a Momma’s Boy. He had to see them every single day of his life. Before work or after work, but he had to see them. He’s Mom always sent messages and little parcels home. She got phone calls from his mother telling her to remember the way he liked things. On occasion they would not be home and on their return she would find the dishes done or the furniture that she had moved, back in their old settings. Empty Booze Bottles would disappear by themselves. (She removed it) He would start a verbal war about stupid things like his remote control not showing in a certain direction on the side table or the toilet paper that was turning down in the wrong direction.

Are these not setting off any Lightning Bolts and red Flags???

She could not start her car and drive to the shop as he would within minutes phone her from his work place and ask where she was going as he was phoned by someone who told him they saw her car.

The first time she left was over a trivial stupid incident. She just got in her car and drove back to her own Sanctuary. From the moment he knew she had left, the phone calls and sms messages and promises started. He tried to rope me in asking me to convince her to go back to him and that he would change. After 4 days she went back.

The drinking got worse. The fighting got worse. He accused her of anything and everything. She was a whore. She was Fat. She stank. She did not know how to cook, She was a tattle tail who carried stories to his mother, she was lazy, she could not cook like his mother, she did not know how to speak, she was not worth fucking. She slept with every man she had listed on her phone.

She had to clean up her social media pages and thin out her contacts. He had security Cameras around the house so he could always see when anybody approached the house. He works shifts and when he is on night duty he drinks until a certain time of the day, she then draws his bath and has to either sit with him whilst he is in the bath or get in the bath with him. He takes a few hours sleep and she has to stay in bed with him.  When he get up and gets ready for work she packs him a meal and a few treats to see him through the night, but at 1 am. in the morning when they have their break he comes home to check on her and take a shit as he refuses to use the toilets at work. She has to be awake and alert until he leaves.  The first thing he does when he walks into the house in the mornings is pour himself a glass of liquor, as by the time he has started shaking like  leaf.

One day I received a call from her to say they are on their way as they are coming to get married here in her Home town.

This is not even 6 months into the relationship!!!

Watch this Space a s I bring you more of this extremely sad story. ……….As it gets worse.

Thank you for reading.

Beating the drum

Published September 12, 2013 by Kappaloca

I sometimes feel like I don’t need to tell a soul, but then who am I giving the pleasure of my silence? Who is the winner?

This is not really about winning or losing anyway. It’s a case of Survival and how I survived. How I rose up and stood tall against you, My Abuser.

With each passing day it gets easier to forgive but the Forget is just so impossible. There are faded parts, like over-worn Jeans or those precision bleached ones the kids like to wear.

I find that there are days that I don’t think about it at all and then other days a small little thing will trigger a Memory and just run wild in my mind all day long.

If you were ever in an Abusive relationship I think I speak for each one of us when I say that you play this next scenario out over and over in your head:

It’s Friday! 

You know he is going to either come home and pick a fight so he can jump in his car and leave or he just does not come home at all.

Every minute that passes puts you more and more on edge. You start pacing, making sure everything is neat, clean, in it’s place.

You keep yourself in your finest clothing and your Make-up immaculate, although you would much rather be in your pj’s and in bed.

You hide things that can be used against you. (Knifes, Hand axe (My abusers favourite) Books, Ashtrays, Broom, Empty Bottles.)

You start thinking of ways to calm him or greet him so as to not set him off or over the edge.

You play out your words, careful of what you can and what you cannot say.

You keep the television sound way down in order to hear the car approach.  ( I found that we tend to develop extra sensory hearing when in such relationships, you know the sound of your own car a mile off)

You keep the lights to a minimum.

You repetitively warm the food just a little at a time, or keep the kettle boiled in the hope he will walk in and ask for Coffee or Tea.

You keep a door unlocked to give you an instant escape route and always make sure you have the keys in your pocket.

a Small bag with an extra set of clothing and some money is kept hidden away outside the house in case you need to flee or spend the night outside. (This happened often)

Finally after hours and in a state of shear terror you hear the car coming down the road and can judge the frame of mind of the driver by the roar of the engine. It’s like a pre warning. You jump, your heart starts racing and your mouth is instantly dry. You run to put the kettle on and get some lights on in the house. You switch the Tv over to a sports channel or something you hope will grab his attention. You feign a smile when he enters the door and one of two things will happen. You will either get a sheepish grin back or you will get greeted by a face of a doom.

The sheepish grin is acceptable and the rest of the evening will probably end well. (Rare as diamonds on the pavement)

Its that Gloomy Thunder Face that is the scarier of the two.

What are you looking at?

What the F@#* do you want?

Who are you all dolled up for?

Where were you? (They make them self believe YOU went out and had a ball)

Who was here with you?

What have you done al day long? The house looks like shit!

You do your best to stay non complacent and not show hostility. You try and keep a straight face. They seem to see things and read things on your face only they can.

You offer the food or drinks option. Carefully ……….

If the food offer is accepted and you start warming it up, you still clamp your lips and sort of hold your breath as whatever you say next or not say next can cause an eruption.

Most times when he gets in in a foul mood the food will never be acceptable. It’s always crap. The dogs wont even want to eat it,  yet they still pick up that first fork full and eat. Mostly there will not even be  need for a fork as the hands will do the job.  You keep yourself busy by wiping counters that need no cleaning or making yourself coffee. Then halfway through the plate of food it’s either side swiped off the table or thrown straight at you. No reason. No provocation,

All you can do is brace yourself for the impact and cover your face.  Shouting, screaming out or asking why will infuriate him and start a full on war.

You know you have to clean it up and pick up the pieces. you have to get out that broom you so carefully hid away out of fear that it might be used on you. He gets up and pushes the chair over. He screams at you and tells you it’s your fault for making him mad. You irritate him. He wishes you would just fuck off or die. you make his life miserable.

He laughs at your attempts to clean up the floor and tells you that  the position you are in on your knees is the position he will keep you in.  You waste his money. You’re a whore. You’re good for nothing. Your an unfit mother.

Oh ok so know he has realised that he had used the word “mother” somewhere in his tantrum and asks me where his kids are.

He wants to know whether I even remembered to feed them the same shit he has just had to eat. He tells me I am poisoning his kids. He wants to know if I even thought of bathing them. Tells me I am a lousy mother, unfit!

A slap to the side of my face stings like a bitch and sends me reeling backwards. I gasp for breath and put my hand up to my face to touch the burning red hot ember spreading over my face. I dare not show emotion or even think of letting a tear show. THAT would certainly send him straight over the edge. I will regret the next blow. I slowly walk away.

As the words starts escalating from his mouth I keep my silence and as calmly as possible try and ward off the anger building up inside me. He storms off and leaves me standing there wishing I could just end it all. Just one swipe. Just one punch, just the guts to go. The guts to phone the police, but I know it’s all futile and in any case if he does get locked up and his company finds out he will be fired immediately and we will lose all benefits.

And in any case tomorrow is Saturday and the day will bring its own new challenges. the children have no idea of what happened after they went to sleep last night. They just know that Daddy is home now and it’s Saturday morning and he is spending it with them.

He just walks past me as if last night never happened. The shattered pieces are wrapped in old newspaper and thrown out.

I suppose I should wrap up yesterday and put it out with the trash too.

PS: My wish for each  person who has had to endure ABUSE of any kind: Stand up, Speak out! Let your voice be heard. If by telling it like it is can help only one other person, we can help heal each other one person at a time.

By beating them at their own game, we can start BEATING THE DRUM.

Picking up the pieces

Published August 29, 2013 by Kappaloca

I need to Pick up the pieces. The pieces of my Life that has fallen through the cracks.

I find myself looking at you and to this day I wonder what had made you change. What had happened for you to turn yourself around. I have asked you but you change the subject immediately. Will you tell me some day?

I suppose everybody deserves a second chance.

My heart leans heavy on the memories and although it has taken years to get to the line of Forgiveness it’s the Forget part that just won’t heal.

I wrote it all down, I vowed to never throw it away. I need to get it out and I need to type it out as I am done screaming it out in my mind.

Maybe by doing so I can rid myself of some of the anger.  The anger I will always carry inside. The anger of all the years I had lost. Lost because of you. Because I still blame myself for allowing you to abuse me. Verbal, Mental and Physical Abuse by your hands, your tongue and your actions.

For Years I tolerated and waited for you to fall and feel the pain, see my pain, feel my anger, but I stayed and endured some more. There were times that I wished you dead. Times were I had hoped and waited for a call to say you had died in a crash, but it never came. (Thankfully) In all this time I had so many times begged you to get help. I begged you to come back from the Abyss of Alcohol and the demons it evoked in you. I knew the real you were in there somewhere. You were the person I loved and married. The man I intended on spending the rest of my life with, have a Family with, but you chose to believe that you were perfect. You believed that you were normal and that I was mental.

When our son died I lost you completely. You spiralled out of Control and refused any form of help. You pushed me aside and left me to deal with my sorrow and heartache all by myself. I had to be strong for me and our daughter. I could not afford to lose my grip on life and become depressed. I needed you. Needed you to touch me, to hold me and comfort me, but all I got was silence and denial. You denied that your child had died. You kept him alive in your mind. Tortured me by talking to him. Tortured me by playing all his favourite music as loud as possible and getting drunk and then throwing tantrums in the dead of night. I was not allowed to sleep during these fits of fury (not that I could anyway)

I left so many times, I started divorce proceedings against you so many times and you kept making me weak by believing it will change. You would change. You would make it better.

After years of torment you have finally figured it out.  It took me leaving you AGAIN and showing you that I would not compromise and come back unless YOU made peace with yourself and healed YOU. It took a full year and a half of being separated from your children and me.

For the last 3 years we are finally able to live our lives as we should have. It’s been a pleasure to be “Home” .  You now cannot do enough for me. Don’t want to go anywhere without me.  I am so grateful for all the  little things you do and I know that you do more than your body can take, but ………

How do I rid myself from all my wounds and demons and heal myself? How do I pick up the pieces?

Are they born this way?

Published August 24, 2013 by Kappaloca
For you the Abuser there will be no mercy.

For you the Abuser there will be no mercy.

This Message comes with a very Strong WARNING: It contains a Very disturbing video of a young boy attacking a baby relentlessly. This might have happened a while ago and I hope he has been dealt with in the strongest possible way.



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Survived, Survivor, Dealing with it. Or am I?

Published August 23, 2013 by Kappaloca

Through the Years I have kept leaflets, notes, and written down in little manuscript books the things that came to mind and the things done to me by not just my Abusive Husband but the little incidents from even before I got married. Some were buried deep down in my memory bank.

My abuse is not just by the hands of one man. I am a Survivor of a few.

Do I put them in Print?

Do I leave it and let my kids find the books or the documents I have stored on my Computer after I have left this earth?

Can I have them Published?

Who would want to read about what happened to me?

Am I guilty of letting these men get away with what they did?

Can they still be prosecuted?

Is it worth the effort?

Who would Believe me?

Is the Justice System really helping the “Victims”?

So many questions and so few answers for myself. I do know most of the answers but am afraid of acting on them.

For years I kept searching myself and asking myself how much blame was in my court.

Well today I believe firmly that each and every person who had endured prolonged abuse has a little bit of blame in their Court. We are to blame for not speaking out or acting faster. Now don’t beat yourself up about it either as, as much as I am saying this just as much was I a part of this statistic. I had plenty of opportunity to leave and not come back, but I kept lying to myself by believing that the next time going back things would be fine.

It normally did go well for a few days, sometimes weeks and on occasion even a month went by that things were normal. By normal I mean there was effort on his side to behave and not find fault or explode at the flip of a switch. Then off Course the slightest thing would send hi over the edge and all actions and argument was justified from his point of view.

How does one change an entire society of angry people who take their frustrations out on children or their partners? Where does education start? Are these abusers born that way or are we raising them to be abusers?

I have vowed to my son that if he ever, ever lifts his hands to a woman he would not see the sun come up the next day. Yeah I know threatening him is not the way to get the message across, but I also provide him with the alternatives to getting angry. If more mothers raised their sons to respect women and raise their daughters not to become involved with men who are easily angered many of these evils can be stopped.

Court Orders, Divorce, Taking the Kids and many other reasons can  trigger emotion in the partners that can send them over the edge.

I have found these webpages and it is packed with information on dealing with ALL kinds of abuse.






“Unfortunately research also tell us that leaving is one of the most common triggers for being killed.”  http://www.enca.com/south-africa/women-advised-empower-themselves-against-domestic-violence

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