In 2003, I met Éliot. It was true love—the love of my life.
He was kind, thoughtful, generous… He had all the right qualities—he was the perfect man—but he had a secret life that I didn’t know about yet. He had a long criminal record, and I told myself, “Oh well, it can’t be that bad; we’re having such a wonderful time…”
Until we started losing everything. Before him, I didn’t do drugs. I started using, and I began stealing from my job so I could use even more. It was a wild time—I didn’t have any kids yet. We moved several times and were evicted from our homes just as many times. It was far from an ideal life, but I was madly in love.
I got pregnant with my daughter Mia, and that’s when things really started to go wrong. We had a place to live, but it was empty. We were using crack, but when I found out I was pregnant, I quit cold turkey. That’s when I got my first slap. I told myself, “ Oh, it’s just a slap—it’s not that bad. He won’t do it again, and he’ll eventually apologize.” Then we got evicted from our place and ended up living in a motel room with his brother and his girlfriend. Éliot got into a fight and ended up in jail. Since his brother didn’t want to put up with me anymore, I went back to my mom’s house.
When he got out of prison, I had just given birth and Mia was 13 days old. We found a place to live, and everything was going well until we started using drugs again. His violent behavior started up again: punches, slaps—always getting harder and harder. One day, I was sitting with my 2-year-old daughter when he hit me in the face. I called my mom, and Éliot threw my cell phone, breaking it. I lost consciousness… I just wanted to leave, but he was so manipulative that I forgave him.
From then on, it happened much more often. I’d go to work with bruises on my face and arms. The police came by often, but I never filed a complaint. One day, child protective services stepped in and forced me to leave Éliot. I didn’t want to hear any of it. Mia and I would see him in secret. One day, I decided to go see him on my own. I told my mom I was going to spend the day with a friend. That day, I was hit on the head and on the knee with a metal bar. Afterward, I decided to file a complaint because the DPJ was threatening to take my daughter away. I went to a shelter with my daughter, and he went back to prison.
I turned my life around; I stopped using drugs. Things were going well… until he called me and I gave in to his sweet talk. So I took him back into my home, but Mia wasn’t allowed to have any contact with her dad, so I lost my daughter. She was 3 years old. I gave up everything to go back to him—the drugs and, of course, the beatings. I was starting to get used to it. In 2010, I got pregnant with Anne, but it wasn’t planned. I couldn’t get an abortion because he wouldn’t let me go anywhere alone—not even to the bathroom. All the windows were covered with cardboard so no one could see inside the house. The beatings and the drugs were still there during the pregnancy. We had no money, nothing for the baby. We lived in a room full of bedbugs. On the day I gave birth, I’d used drugs four hours before Anne was born. However, at the hospital, they gave me a chance to get out of that situation: they sent me to a center to assess my parenting skills. I failed. I was too focused on my relationship, and I lost Anne as well after just one month. I felt like my life was truly over, so I started using drugs again, and Éliot kept beating me.
Until the day he decided to hit me in the ribs with a baseball bat. I screamed so loudly that he left. For the first time in a very long time, I found myself alone. So I took matters into my own hands: I left. It was the 1ster January 2012. I went to the hospital. When it was time for an X-ray, they asked me if I thought I might be pregnant. I thought I was, and I was right. I was pregnant with Mathieu. He’s my little savior. In my mind, I was ready to get back together with Éliot, but I told myself, “No, I’m keeping this baby. No one is going to take him away from me.”
The police took me back to the shelter, and I took the necessary steps to keep my baby. I stopped using drugs and said no to violence once and for all. With the help of my social worker, I did everything I could to get my life back on track so I could keep my baby. On August 29, 2012, Mathieu was born. A beautiful, healthy, chubby baby—and I was ready. The DPJ supervised the situation for six months and then transferred the case to me, granting me full custody of Mathieu. Éliot was in prison, and I was still alive.
Today, I no longer use drugs. I’ve had two more wonderful children with my partner, and I have my own home. I managed to break free from 10 years of abuse. It’s hard—really hard. But thanks to my Mathieu, I’m alive, I have five wonderful children, and I have a beautiful, large family.
This is my story. I hope it can make a difference in the lives of women who are going through the same thing I am.
Caroline