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Dark Days On The Beach

I would first like to thank 
all of those who are out there for becoming avid readers of I’ve Been Through Enough! and for supporting the voices being heard on this platform. I left for a week without updates only to update yesterday and see a little over 300 visits worldwide. That is truly amazing and YOU GUYS are my reason. 

If you haven’t read my poem, Two Suns, I encourage you to do so before reading this blog post as it will go deeper into that truth that was told about Dark Sun.

There are very few people that know the whole story of how my oldest son’s dad and I split up. The ones who do know don’t even know the whole truth. I figured, if I’m going to heal myself, I can’t start from my present. If you’ve read yesterday’s post, Life Lessons: Days of The Weak, then you’d see I brought up the fact that every thing we learn in life’s classroom is setting us up for our tests. We are to use the lessons as tools for survival. I also mentioned domestic issues are not foreign to me.

So without further delay, I will bring you to my past. Those dark days on the beach.

*A huge inhale and exhale*

I graduated high school in 2008. I was always an exceptional student. I was an honors student, I took A&P classes my junior and senior year, I graduated among the top of my class, I was apart of the National Honor Society, I literally excelled in everything I did. Not only was I brainy, I was a hustler. My work ethic was impeccable. I can hear my dad now talking of how for my 16th birthday all I wanted to do was get my first job. I was absolutely amazing.  

During Hurricane Katrina, I got my first glimpse of living away from New Orleans. We evacuated to Orlando, FL. Needless to say, I fell in love with the atmosphere and when it was time to return home I promised myself I would find my way back to Florida. With that in mind before graduating high school, and due to all of the reasons listed above, I was awarded a full tuition scholarship to Bethune- Cookman University in Daytona Beach, Florida, My major would be Music Technology.

May 8, 2008 my parents watched me walk across the stage and receive my high school diploma. Of course there were parents of my peers whom had brand new cars waiting for their newly graduated senior wrapped in red ribbon. My dad, being the proud parent he was, decided I deserved the same. He bought me a brand new car about a week later. A 2008 Scion XD, which I picked out myself. This car had just came out and had the appeal of a mini SUV; it was perfect for traveling when it came time for me to make my visits back home from school. I had already became “popular” with my soon to be classmates via Facebook. For some reason, the small girl with the loud personality from New Orleans, LA was extremely interesting. By the time move in day came, I was very well known.

My first semester went great. I was one of the only freshman with a car. There were only two girls on the entire campus from New Orleans (the other girl happened to be my elementary and middle school classmate). I had my hair laid every week, dressed to kill everyday for class…I was really stuntin’ man. I earned a 3.6 gpa while taking 18 credit hours and crossed in a Modeling Troupe called E!picurean. I guess because of those accomplishments, my parents had no problem letting me convince them of getting my own apartment. SO NOW not only am I one of the only freshman with a car, popular on campus among the whole school, newly inducted into a very popular greek organization…I now have a new apartment and my roommate is from New York and dope as hell. My life was LIT! I had EVERYTHING. 

And then that’s when I met Stacey.

I had a neighbor whom I was very cool with and one day she knocked on the front door of my apartment to introduce me to her 28 year old son. He had recently been released from prison on drug trafficking charges. Well, that was no issue for me because at the time, I was also “the trap queen” and “party girl” of BCU. I worked as a shot girl in a nearby nightclub and on the side sold weed to my fellow students. Everybody knew me and knew I was “bout that life” fearlessly.  I also wasn’t unfamiliar with the coke game either. I didn’t partake in white, but I knew how to divvy it up and make a few bucks off a 8 ball. At the time, I had no issue with meeting someone that was a native to Daytona’s drug scene.  In my eyes, this was perfect. 

My hustler mentality had taken a turn for the worst and played a huge role in what would soon become my love life.

Stacey was cool as a fan when I met him. What made us click even more was the offer to bring me to someone he was close to and have them front me some green to sell. The best part was, I didn’t have to pay the guy back; Stacey took care of that bill for me. I looked at it as him giving me money, something no man except my father had ever done for me. I was completely swooned. 

It wasn’t long before we had become lovers. Our friendship was a thing of the past. I moved out of the old apartment, and moved into a new one with him as my new roommate. I feel in love with him. He flaunted me around town. He made me feel like a queen. It was all so new to me. Now, before I go any further, no he was not very attractive and yes he had a son at the time. None of that mattered. I looked at him as someone I could trust and that alone compensated for his lack of appearance. I encouraged him to be a better father to his son, I even helped create his first mixtape using my skills I leaned in my program at BCU. I quit my job at his request because he didn’t want me working as a shot girl anymore for tips. He got me a job through a friend as a telemarketer. I sympathized with him not being able to get a job with his record so I just let him flip my checks while my dad paid the rent on my apartment. Despite it all happening so fast, everything seemed to be going great and then out of nowhere things changed.

My first encounter with the other side of him was when I had to go to the library to study for school. I had a big exam coming up and because I had already started skipping class to spend time with him, I HAD to make an A. I thought I would be able to tell him I would be right back and let him know where I was going and why but that didn’t happen. I got accused of cheating on him with multiple guys at my school which of course started an argument. We had never gotten into it about any infidelity. I barely left the apartment because I was with him ALL THE TIME. I tried to just brush him off and walk out the door and he grabbed my arm. I turned around to tell him let me go and he slapped the fuck out of me. In the same breath he kissed me and apologized, 

That was the first time I had experienced any type of abuse from any man. That was the first time in my life I became embarrassed of who I was. I went from the outgoing, fun, smart, charismatic girl to the girl who is getting her ass kicked by the man she fell in love with at 19. I couldn’t go to the library. I had a huge bruise on my face. I couldn’t go on campus to meet my study group that night after being broken down and built back up with sex. I slept in his arms and cried myself to sleep. 

The next few months would entail me enduring more abuse, sleepless nights or arguing because of sudden rage on his part, and me just wanting to enjoy my life as a freshman college student again. I didn’t want to call the police on him because I knew he would go back to prison for violating parole. I thought maybe he’s just going through a lot mentally because of the time he did, or maybe he was just insecure and I had to show him that I loved him more. So I gave him what he had been asking me for …a baby.

I came home to visit during Mardi Gras and invited him with me. Mind you, my parent’s only know we argue from time to time at the point. They knew nothing about the physical nature of our relationship. The whole car ride my stomach was hurting sooooo bad. During the day I got the loving, caring, emotionally stable Stacey. So of course he made sure to check if I was feeling good and getting me food the whole 10 hour car ride, We arrived in New Orleans, and our first stop was Bourbon Street. Stacey had never been to New Orleans and the things he had heard about the crime here didn’t help his “nervous” energy when we headed out to enjoy the festivities of Mardi Gras. I got my daiquiri and he got his and we strolled while he enjoyed the antics of New Orleans night life. We ended up getting into an argument so I called my dad to come get us. He came and we spent the rest of my vacation beefing. He couldn’t wait to get back to Daytona. You already know what went down once we got home. We fought. While my eyes swelled slowly, he made love to me even slower. 

I missed my period that next month and told him the news hoping he would change. He was so happy. For a strong minute, he did change. He even started cooking for me after work. I was finally content with him…but that only lasted until I got my grades for the semester. I got a whopping 2.1 gpa. I felt horrible. I knew my scholarship was no more and now I would have to tell my parents I’m failing school and I’m pregnant. Neither of the two news breaks made them happy and because they were mad at me, I was mad at him. Because I was mad at him, he became more violent than ever with me. I only wanted him to see how upset I was at how my life had changed for the worst academically. He only heard me challenging his “authority” as my man. The heat got turned up and those open handed slaps became closed fist punches. This is the moment where I learned how to fight back. Mind you, stacey was a big tall dude. 6’3, 210+ lbs vs. me, 5’2 and 110 lbs. The last fight was brutal. I wanted to go out with my girlfriend whom I hadn’t seen since school let out for the summer. She also crossed in my organization with me. We were very close and she did know about the abuse due to me having to go to class jacked up. She wanted me to just get away and have fun. She lived in Orlando so I made sure to tell him earlier that week that she would be coming pick me up on Friday and that he can use the car if he needed to. He was fine with it until Friday when she called and said she’s on her way. He made me call and cancel and when I gave him silent treatment over the next 20 minutes the fight began. He choked me to the point where I could not talk to tell him stop and when he let go he punched me. I punched back. I had always been able to hold my own in a fight with girls but fighting him brought me to another level of “handling my business”. I fought back as hard as I could. When he realized I had been learning to take the hits and how to hit him where it hurt, he was forced to pin me down. He forced me face down on the commercial carpet of the bedroom and put his knees on my face. My head was turned to the right so the whole left side of my face caught all the carpet burns while the right side caught the bruises from his knees. I screamed for mercy and when he finally got up I ran to my phone and dialed 911 but he quickly grabbed it. He threw it and shattered it. He then proceeded to take a quarter pound of weed and throw it on me just incase I decided to try and run to a neighbor and call the police. I took my chances and ran as fast as I could downstairs to my neighbor and had them call the police. He ran off to not be arrested, I had weed all over me, all in my hair, my face was all kinds of bruised and bloody. Because I was pregnant, I opted for an ambulance. I spent hours being questioned by police, taking photos for a domestic charge against him, and getting my unborn baby examined for trauma. When it was all over my friend, Kristen, came and got me from the hospital. She took me to Orlando for the weekend where her and her mom would become my safe haven until Sunday evening. I alerted my family of what happened and made arrangements to come home. My dad got me a cell phone from Sprint to replace the one he broke and I was all set to pack my things.

I came back to Daytona and met Stacey at a motel he check into to hide out from the warrant he had. He apologized until he couldn’t anymore. I told him turn himself in and I and his friend would post his bail. The next day he did and I posted his bail with the help of his friend, whom knew about the whole ordeal, three nights later. He came back, made love to me…but at this point I am just numb. With my  face still bruised and busted up, I started packing my stuff when he went by his friend’s house the next day. I called the police to have protection because I would be asking him to leave my apartment. By the time he came back, the police was there and I told him he had to leave, His next words cut me like a knife. He told me he hoped me and my baby died on the interstate. I replied “Consider us dead.”

That was the last day I saw Stacey in person. I have spoken to him 3 or 4 times since 2009 but that wasn’t until two years after Londen was born. Stacey served a little time for the abuse, and he also recieved counseling. Currently, he is back in jail for pulling a gun out on his mother. Yes, he is that violent. I am glad I finally left because there is no telling where me or my child would be today. I gave birth to my first born, Londen aka Dark Sun, on March 6,2010. 

Those were my dark days on the beach.

Peace & Love,



This took my breath away! I always knew you had an edge, and now I understand you even more... Keep pushing sis! I know this release was powerful--LOVE TORRI