Therapy continued

I had a full blown panic attack while I was typing this story last night. I've never experienced anything like that, it was very scary. I even feel a little silly for reacting the way I did. I will learn from this and not type my blogs in the middle of the night when I am emotionally more vulnerable.
Back to my story. The next sound I heard may have saved my life. It was the beeping sound that is triggered every time you open the doors to the store. "What does that mean?" he asked. "It means there is a customer here." I said. This is when I should have started yelling help and I should have fought him. The customer would hear the commotion and run over to help me. The two of us would have beat him up and called the police. They would show up to a beaten man laying in a pool of blood. That's what I wish had happened. Instead I stayed frozen. He told me to be quiet and he would go tell the customer to come back later. I was told to not make a sound and no one would get hurt. I stayed silent when he left. I waited to hear somebody yell for help or yell out to see if I was okay. Everything was deathly silent until I heard the beeping signaling the door had been opened again. I was sure he was able to get the customer to leave and that meant I was alone with this man yet again. Finally my brain started to work and I was desperately trying to think of a way out. I decided to make a run for it and leave out of the emergency door in the back. I don't have time to put my shoes and my pants back on. What if I open the door and he's already on the other side. I'll need something to defend myself with. The only thing I could find in the bathroom was a toilet brush. That's right, I left the bathroom with a toilet brush in my hand. I was going to beat a man to a bloody pulp with a toilet brush. Luckily no one was on the other side of the door and I made a run for it in nothing but a 7-eleven shirt and a toilet brush in my hand. I ran down the street and for some reason I was sure the man who robbed me would jump in his truck and come after me. I didn't think I could make it home before he caught me so I ran to the nearest house. I banged on the front door as loud as I dared. No answer. I could see headlights coming down the street so I ran into the bushes and waited for the vehicle to be out of sight. I sprinted to the next house and banged on their door. No one is going to answer their door in the middle of the night in this neighborhood. If they do it will probably be with a bat in hand and I may end up in even worse condition. I see more headlights so I hide behind a fence until they disappear. At the next house someone opens their door. It's a big black man with nappy hair and a dirty wife beater on. I wonder if I should start running again. The man that just attempted to rape me was black and I instantly hate this man standing in front of me because he is also black. I don't say anything to him. I just stand there like a deer in headlights until I see his wife behind him. I know who she is, she comes into the store all the time and she's very nice. Seeing a familiar face was all I needed to snap out of my frozen racist moment. I break down crying and tell her someone is after me. She tells her husband to let me in and call the police.
After hours at the police station one of the officers drives me home. Chris wakes up startled to see me home so early. He can tell I'm upset and he asks what's going on. I break down in the kitchen and explain everything. I spent the rest of the morning in his arms. Maybe this will make him love me more. Maybe something like this needed to happen so he will care about me more. This could be a blessing in disguise and save our relationship. Maybe he'll stop hurting me and he'll appreciate me more. I was safe in my home but the truth is, my home was not any safer than working the night shift at 7-eleven by yourself. I've replaced one abusive man with another. Instead of being in the arms of a robber and rapist I find myself in the arms of a woman beater. He's black as well, I don't have much luck with this race. Maybe it's time for me to find myself a nice white boy.
The point of this blog is wrapped up in the title of these posts. I need therapy. A lot of us need therapy. So many of us are ashamed of what's happened to us in the past or happening now that we keep it secret from everyone who cares about us. We bottle it up inside because we are embarrassed to admit we allowed someone to treat us this way. We don't want to be judged for staying in an abusive relationship. We don't want people to hate our abuser and tell us to leave. We know we should leave but we don't want to hear it. We don't want to feel stupid for staying and we don't know how to answer the age old question of why people stay in abusive relationships. We hide everything until it destroys us from the inside out. I want this blog to become a safe place for people to come and share stories and relate to one another. Think of it as an online support group. Share your stories or just read the stories. If you've survived something traumatic let others know so that they may be able to see the light at the end of the tunnel. I want this to be a safe place where people can open up without feeling judged. I need this for my own therapy and I know this could help others as well. If you know of someone this could benefit please let them know about my blog and I encourage you to comment and share your thoughts and stories. Thanks for your support and I look forward to hearing from you.