1.0The Sourcehttp://the-source.netrich600338<blockquote class="wp-embedded-content" data-secret="2zRfW32OSF"><a href="http://the-source.net/natalies-story-abuse-survivor-speaks/">Natalie’s Story: abuse survivor speaks</a></blockquote><iframe sandbox="allow-scripts" security="restricted" src="http://the-source.net/natalies-story-abuse-survivor-speaks/embed/#?secret=2zRfW32OSF" width="600" height="338" title="“Natalie’s Story: abuse survivor speaks” — The Source" data-secret="2zRfW32OSF" frameborder="0" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" scrolling="no" class="wp-embedded-content"></iframe><script type="text/javascript"> /*! This file is auto-generated */ !function(c,l){"use strict";var e=!1,o=!1;if(l.querySelector)if(c.addEventListener)e=!0;if(c.wp=c.wp||{},c.wp.receiveEmbedMessage);else if(c.wp.receiveEmbedMessage=function(e){var t=e.data;if(!t);else if(!(t.secret||t.message||t.value));else if(/[^a-zA-Z0-9]/.test(t.secret));else{for(var r,s,a,i=l.querySelectorAll('iframe[data-secret="'+t.secret+'"]'),n=l.querySelectorAll('blockquote[data-secret="'+t.secret+'"]'),o=0;o<n.length;o++)n[o].style.display="none";for(o=0;o<i.length;o++)if(r=i[o],e.source!==r.contentWindow);else{if(r.removeAttribute("style"),"height"===t.message){if(1e3<(s=parseInt(t.value,10)))s=1e3;else if(~~s<200)s=200;r.height=s}if("link"===t.message)if(s=l.createElement("a"),a=l.createElement("a"),s.href=r.getAttribute("src"),a.href=t.value,a.host===s.host)if(l.activeElement===r)c.top.location.href=t.value}}},e)c.addEventListener("message",c.wp.receiveEmbedMessage,!1),l.addEventListener("DOMContentLoaded",t,!1),c.addEventListener("load",t,!1);function t(){if(o);else{o=!0;for(var e,t,r,s=-1!==navigator.appVersion.indexOf("MSIE 10"),a=!!navigator.userAgent.match(/Trident.*rv:11\./),i=l.querySelectorAll("iframe.wp-embedded-content"),n=0;n<i.length;n++){if(!(r=(t=i[n]).getAttribute("data-secret")))r=Math.random().toString(36).substr(2,10),t.src+="#?secret="+r,t.setAttribute("data-secret",r);if(s||a)(e=t.cloneNode(!0)).removeAttribute("security"),t.parentNode.replaceChild(e,t);t.contentWindow.postMessage({message:"ready",secret:r},"*")}}}}(window,document); </script> http://the-source.net/wp-content/uploads/2021/10/1.jpg600800By Natalie Pierre Editor’s Note: October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month. This story contains a vivid description of self-immolation and references to suicide. It is not appropriate for all readers. This story was originally published June 8, 2018. This is Natalie’s Story. This morning I woke up to a TV blaring in my living room. My 11-year-old nephew was fast asleep on my couch and left the TV on after we watched the Washington Capitals celebrate with Lord Stanley’s Cup. As I went to turn it off, Good Morning America started talking about chef and TV personality Anthony Bourdain, who was found dead in his French hotel room after an apparent suicide. The news brought tears to my eyes — not because I knew Bourdain, read of his adventures or even watched him on TV. I was moved to tears because I know exactly how it feels to struggle mightily and keep the details of what you’re going through to yourself to the point of breaking. With Bourdain’s death coming on the heels of fashion designer Kate Spade’s suicide earlier this week, I felt like this was an appropriate time to hit pause on the life I am so fortunate to still have and take some time out to share my story. ______________ On September 8, 2015 — my 26th birthday — I nearly took my own life. After spending Labor Day by the pool outside of the Vestavia Hills, Alabama home my husband, Chasten, and I were about to move into, the evening turned ugly. We fought, as we did most nights. He made threats of leaving me, taking everything I had, and doing whatever he could to ruin my career as a sports reporter. That was also a regular occurrence for us. Having gotten married in May of that year, we were still in what most people would refer to as the “honeymoon phase” of our marriage. Except, for us, the first three and a half months of our marriage felt more like a prison sentence to me. I would work from home and he would pick the same fight with me about how I cared too much about my job and worked too much. I would head to the newsroom to write a story or shoot a video, and he’d insist on coming with me to make sure I didn’t flirt with anyone while I was away from him. He would see me texting with my boss, co-workers or colleagues and accuse me of having affairs with them. We would go out with friends, and he would call me a whore and every other name in the book if someone smiled at me and I didn’t immediately walk across the bar to tell them to stop. During SEC Media Days, he called and texted me every hour each day because he didn’t like the idea of me spending time at a hotel with tons of coaches, athletes and other sports writers. When I wasn’t able to answer, I received nasty voicemails telling me about what a horrible person and wife I was. The insults and emotional abuse were non-stop. And while the obvious answer was to walk away, I was terrified of what he would do if I did walk away. I took all his threats seriously because I knew what he was capable of. We met at Arby’s in Lake Mary, Florida, where I worked throughout high school and he worked shortly after moving to the area from Puerto Rico. It wasn’t long before we started spending every day together. When we weren’t together, we were on the phone with each other. He listened to me and understood me in a way that no one ever had. I was the product of a disastrous and abusive relationship, so I avoided boyfriends. Instead, I focused on my friends, volleyball, and my various roles with my high school newspaper and yearbook. But somewhere along the way, I fell for Chasten. When I moved away for college, I told him I wanted to focus on school and volleyball and that I had to completely cut him off to stay focused. I did, and I thrived throughout college. At Delta State University, I was the editor of the school paper, The Delta Statement, worked full time for the local weekly, The Cleveland News Leader, spent time working for CBS affiliate, WXVT-TV, and managed to graduate a year early. The next year, I earned my master’s from Syracuse University’s Newhouse School. That led me to covering the Florida State Seminoles for the Tallahassee Democrat for three and a half years before I started covering SEC football for AL.com in 2014. Meanwhile, from the time I said goodbye to Chasten in 2007, to the time I reconnected with him in 2015, he had spent most of his time in prison. But when I talked to him, he vowed that he had learned from his bad decisions and was ready to be a better man. I wasn’t one to fall for most people’s crap. But Chasten wasn’t most people to me. After a few weeks of talking on the phone, it felt like old times. But this time, we were older, and he wanted a commitment from me. So, he moved to Hoover, Alabama, to be with me. Not long after he moved in with me, he questioned how committed I was to him. Having felt somewhat guilty for not being there for him when he was making one poor decision after another, I wanted to prove that I was going to be there for him this time around. So, we got engaged. When that wasn’t enough, we took a detour on the way to the gym one day and ended up at the courthouse. We walked out of the courthouse, in our gym clothes, and married to each other. The thing about him knowing me better than anyone else when I was 16 years old was still true when I was 25....