Dysfunctional Blessing

By Shante Richardson

This book represents the journey of a woman who was battered through abusive relationships, having a child as a teen, homelessness, and betrayal. The stops along this road are markers of change and a vision of innocence slipping away. However, it is through this journey that faith is born, reborn, and finally understood. This is the story of a survivor.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Richter Publishing LLC
• Release date: Jun 8, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370909827

Shante Richardson

Shante Richardson was not born into a glamorous life, where a golden spoon was the privilege of choice. Where she was greeted at birth by two happy parents, grew up getting kisses by mom or dad at night or even grew into a woman that came from a loving family and go off to marry her prince charming. Her youth was filled with abandonment and abuse that included mental, physical, verbal and emotional. At 7, she became an official “ward of the state” and was bounced from aunt to aunt becoming a foster child. Although, family chose to obtain the responsibility of raising her this blessing became an unfortunate situation that only left the start of her scars. By age 17, she leaves the home of her aunt and uncle only to run right into the arms of her abuser where life begins to shed more tears and bring about more pain for her. As life continues for her she learns to grab ahold of her “faith” if she is to survive all the obstacles that she is presented with in her journey. Shante has come a long way, and although she will always remember her pain she has grown into a wonderful mother of two children. Enjoying the beautiful sun of Florida and she enjoys music, reading and being in her yard. As an author, Shante found a way to put her story into print to be able to share her triumphs and empower others through her words and heartache vowing to uplift a woman or a man so they can maintain their strength, find guidance and continue to strive through their own personal walk of life.

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to thank my husband for giving me his blessing to share not only my story, but our journey to help inspire others. I know that the situations disclosed here represent a battle that you fight daily, and I appreciate your openness.

My deepest thanks to my doctors for listening and helping me through my journey. Because of your expertise, you gave someone like me the emotional freedom to live.

To my friend, Monique Brown, I want to thank you for your constant support. I know that I was a bit much during this process, but you extended your time to me, and for that I’m eternally grateful.

Very special thanks also to my publishing company and editors for their prompt and enthusiastic support.

~Shanté

PREFACE

Since the conception of book publishing, thousands of books have been written about women, by women, in abusive relationships. The stories that have been written describe the power of strong women; the women who suffered through living hell as men took advantage of them and cheated on them, thus breaking the vows of till death do us part. This is a stunning portrait painted with the strength of a woman who has survived the angst of a broken heart.

When I started writing this book, I doubted that anyone would want to read it. I questioned myself to the point where I stopped writing. I then thought about what I had been through and started writing again. I talked to any and everyone who would listen to my story. I would toss and turn at night; the spirit in me wanted me to tell my struggles, and it wouldn’t let me rest until I did. My life is a story unlike any other told through various therapy sessions and letters to and from loved ones. This is my personal journey to forgiveness and my voyage to a newly realized heightened self-efficacy. My testimony of faith. It is my prayer that this book will speak to one woman or one man and give them the peace to know that whatever you are going through, this too shall pass.

I Once Cried

I once cried out loud

But yet no one listened

I cried out loud but no one helped

The tears flowed down my face

I tried to cover my wounds

I put on a brave face

Bipolar is my fight

My mother lived a drug-induced life

She was pulled away

I became a ward of the state

Living with family

That was a dysfunctional mistake

I once cried out loud

Hoping someone would care

What is love

No one was ever there

Time flowing by

Life is too much

I found a teen boy

To him I would clutch

Holding on too tight

My body stung with his punch

I stayed

Afraid to stray

My son kept me sane

Until blackened eyes became too much

Pubes snatched roughly

I became the one breaking emotionally

I had to run and flee

God guided me

Prayers held me

I prayed constantly

It was strength that I prayed that set me free

~Shanté Richardson

THERAPY SESSION ONE

Life has knocked me down a few times, it showed me things I never wanted to see. I experienced sadness and failures. But one thing is for sure, I always get up.

As I sat down in that chair, I knew that my life was changing. I was ready for it to change. I needed it to change. I was willing, ready, and able to answer any question. For so long, my thoughts were stuck in my head. Finally, I would give them a voice. Maybe my salvation would live in one of my answers.

When the therapist asked, What brings you in today? I was ready and without hesitation, I recited my story.

I am always angry and I don’t care. My husband cheated on me in 2013 and although this wasn’t his first time, this was ultimately the worse time and a time that I could truly never forgive him. I have begun to lash out in horrible ways, and when that happens, I have no remorse. I can be fine one minute and then raging in the next. Once I lash out and do what I want to do to a person, I go back to being fine.

I knew something was wrong; I could feel it. The racing thoughts and emotional extremes. All of this was intensified by my inability to sleep. Something had to change, or I would truly go insane. My main thoughts were centered around a specific day. I couldn’t let go of the day my husband walked in the door and changed both of our worlds forever.

Earlier that week, Nick sat down and informed me in great detail that he had been having a month-long affair that was fulfilling his desires. His description was of a truly nasty fantasy affair that involved going to parties, bars, and getting drunk. After this, heading to a hotel room to engage in raw, wet sex in the bathroom and allowing a woman that he barely knew to do as she wanted with him. He just sat there enjoying every moment of it. They filmed each other having sex, and the enjoyment of this woman squirting from her vagina became one of his most pleasurable moments. To him, these sexual events were what I had failed to give him in our marriage. The locations would change quite often, and there would be naked, loud moaning sex in vehicles. Also experimental but yet enjoyable escapades that involved doing as they pleased with one another at her father’s house. These descriptions of what truly made my husband step out on me was painful. I began to feel unworthy or that I hadn’t filled my husband’s sexual desires, but these sexual acts were not who I was. Immediately, my thoughts began to race, I couldn’t believe this was happening to me, this was devastating news and a form of abuse emotionally that I couldn’t bear to deal with. My mind turned completely off and all I could see was black all around me. My spirit began to fade from my body (so it felt) and my self-esteem was immediately crushed. This man that I had vowed to love until death do us part had completely turned his back on our vows and even informed me that he thought he was in love with this woman. I heard the whispers of the words love her in my head echo so softly but then began to get louder and I was boiling with rage. My head felt like it was on fire from the amount of thoughts that ran through it at a rapid speed of a bullet. Everything I had ever done for this man—standing by him in his military career, supporting his continued schooling, and raising our children by myself just seemed worthless. I couldn’t move my feet, I couldn’t speak; I was completely numb in thought and my mind was only telling me to shut down. This wasn’t my life. I thought about how much had happened. What could have gone wrong? What would make this man, my husband, so comfortable with another woman that he would have unprotected sex with her? My thoughts then raced to the danger that he could have put us in, and with this on my mind, I forced him to get a full panel STD test.

The day the results came in, things would never be the same between us again. I had been forcing myself to think about other things. At that time, I couldn’t absorb the reality of the situation I was in. I had to pretend everything was fine because otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to get out of bed. The results were the furthest thing from my mind at that moment. It was a beautiful sunny day, and I was sitting at the computer, busy with my job search. To compound the situation, I had been out of work and was focusing on something positive to help distract my mind.

I was so focused on my task that I was startled when my husband walked in the door. I was taken aback by the look carved into his face, a mask of complete shock. Nick stood there as if he was stuck in the doorway. He couldn’t move his body, and it looked like he had gone rigid. At this point, I started to worry.

In the midst of his silence, he broke out into the wail of a broken man. He mumbled and sobbed. Even through his wailing, I could clearly understand the words that came out of his mouth. Babe, I have herpes, and you may have it too. I watched his mouth move, but I wasn’t comprehending what was coming out. Once I did understand what was being said, everything fell into a dead silence.

At this point in my mind all I could think was that I didn’t know what the full extent of what herpes was. Was it an STD that had no cure and/or would kill me? Was I dying? I was scared, frustrated, and I couldn’t even fathom the idea of trying to live with such a disease.

My husband stood there at the door frame, yelling at the top of his lungs. He was scared, frantic, and ready to kill himself. He told me that he had contemplated whether or not to tell me during his drive home from the clinic. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen from here. I was stiff. I’d been busy on the computer looking for a job before he verbalized the news, and now I was on the internet looking up all I could on the herpes virus.

My nerves were bad; my husband was crying and falling to his knees. I could do nothing but console him. I stopped researching; how could I when he was so distraught? In my mind, I could figure this all out in a few minutes after the situation had calmed down.

I ran over to him and put my arms around his shoulders, all while guiding him to the living room couch. I sat him down and grabbed a towel to place over his mouth. I allowed him to get his screams out while I rubbed his head. I didn’t know what to say, so I just sat, watched, and listened to him cry. I listened to him tell me how sorry he was. He told me he wanted to die; that he didn’t deserve to live anymore. He wondered how he could have possibly hurt someone he loved in such a way and change our lives in just a little bit of time. He said his mistake had taken not only his health but also the health of his wife, the mother of his child.

I did nothing but listen. I was too scared and upset to say anything. I was worried and felt as if I could be dying and all the while he sat there in his feeling of guilt. His selfishness was making me livid. I kept thinking to myself, how and why he could do this to me? Why didn’t he think about all of this when he was out having his fun with this other woman?

Once Nick was finished with his seemingly endless woeful wail, I went back to researching. I began looking up everything I could on herpes and what it did to your immune system. I read that herpes came in two forms, simplex I and simplex II.

Nick told me he was diagnosed with genital herpes, simplex II. This one appeared anywhere in the genital area. It was not on his face or anywhere near his mouth. His diagnosis meant that he, and maybe even I, could possibly break out with huge, pus-filled bumps in our genital area, and the pain could be excruciating.

The information said that the virus could react differently depending on the strength of your immune system. I was so scared when reading this because I was always stressed and high-strung. This meant I could be in more pain than him if I was diagnosed with the virus as well.

After what seemed like hours, I had to regroup and think about my own health. I thought hard to remember when the last time we had sex was, even oral, as herpes can be contracted through the mouth. Did he love me or just fuck me? Was he thinking about her while having sex with me? A million questions were screaming for answers in my mind.

I couldn’t believe this was happening. I hadn’t been invited to the party, but I was the one suffering. It was like having