Growing up, my mom and I felt like we were living under the iron fist of a tyrant—my stepfather. The verbal abuse was relentless, and at times, it even turned physical. We were like prisoners in our own home. During my high school years, he would arbitrarily keep me from going to school, using it as a weapon against us. His paranoia and bipolar disorder made life unbearable, and sadly, we bore the brunt of his mental health struggles.
Running away seemed like the obvious solution, but it was far from simple. To the outside world, we were the perfect Christian family in our small town, and I feared that if we tried to escape, he would hunt us down. We went to church potlucks and sang in the choir just to maintain the facade. Meanwhile, he was running an illegal marijuana operation, which only added to the tension when the DEA came knocking. After that incident, he went deeper underground to keep his “innocence” intact.
He kept a close watch on me, fearing I might confide in someone about our situation. His control was suffocating, and as his rage escalated, so did our fear for our lives. One night, he forced my mom into the car, threatening to kill her and then me. Each time he did this, I feared it would be the last time I saw her.
Then, he kicked me out.
With me gone, my mom was left vulnerable, and it didn’t take long for his threats to turn into reality. One night, he held a gun to her head. We still don’t know why he didn’t pull the trigger, but we consider it a miracle. The next day, my mom bravely fled to a safe house thanks to some Catholic nuns. I vividly remember the terror of that day, where every moment required careful planning to ensure her escape.
Fast forward a few years, and my stepfather waltzed back into our lives, claiming to be a “changed man.” My mom, being the compassionate soul she is, cautiously welcomed him back under strict conditions. But as the saying goes, once an abuser, always an abuser, and his temper resurfaced.
Despite having my own family, I still felt the impact of his tyranny over my mom. I would hear about his latest rants after he’d been drinking, and instead of defending her, I was filled with dread. This inevitably led to another cycle of violence, culminating in a 911 call when he attempted suicide. He was arrested but quickly found a way back into our lives.
My mom, determined not to be intimidated, refused to leave her home. He stalked her from a distance and even broke into her house while she was out. Meanwhile, he tried to manipulate me with sob stories, claiming his suicide attempt was just a “joke” and blaming my mom for everything that had gone wrong in their 30-year marriage.
But about a year and a half ago, I finally said, “Enough.” I could no longer endure his blame games, pleas for sympathy, and threats. It was time to take a stand for myself and my mom. After a particularly heated phone call where he dredged up years of his grievances, I snapped. I told him that he would no longer control my life, that he needed to leave my mom alone, and that he would never be a part of my children’s lives. I screamed for him to stay away or face the consequences.
I blocked his number and haven’t heard from him since. My mom and I choose to pretend he doesn’t exist. But the shadow of his presence lingers; I still find myself looking over my shoulder, wary of unfamiliar numbers or sudden noises. This is my reality.
Despite it all, I feel liberated. I’ve finally put an end to his cycle of violence. I’ve drawn a line in the sand and stood up for myself, my mother, and my children. They will see that abuse has no place in our lives.
I’m stronger than ever now, all because of that one fateful phone call when I finally said, “Enough.”
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Summary
Jessica Harper-Lane shares her harrowing journey of growing up with a toxic stepfather and the long road to breaking free from his control. After years of abuse and manipulation, she finds her strength and finally stands up for herself and her family, emphasizing the importance of reclaiming one’s power in the face of adversity.