Lies

You say you want to help me with my depression, yet you discourage me to express my emotions.

You say I try to control the conversations we have, but you use the phrase to stop me from talking. You do it to Dad as well.

You use what I tell you against me, or to benefit yourself. Then you deny doing so.

You tell me you want me to leave, then you trap me here.

You act as if you are the victim while you attack me.

You say you want us to have two way conversations, then you don’t provide me a chance to speak.

You say you love and care for me, yet you neglect to provide me a way I can live contently.

You say you listen to my opinions and take them into consideration, then you completely deny how I think and feel.

**Friday, you asked me how you lie to me, here they are.

—————-my response on Rocky Road

I thought I was done blogging for the night, but as I was working on the site, I found an entry from 1999 that reinforces and encourages me today. The entry perfectly correlates with what I’m going through with Marc right now. I have to let him make his own choices, because only by choosing do we determine who we are to become.

The part that I did not foresee in my younger years as a mother is the fact that as hard as I’ve tried to raise my boys to be strong and smart, there’s always the possibility that their choices may cause them to become someone other than I had in mind. Back then, I didn’t realize that “letting go” could have a negative effect.

However, I am entirely certain that letting go is the right thing to do. Marc must be allowed to make his own choices and then be allowed to face the consequences of those choices.

It sucks. I think I knew it sucked when I wrote it. Here’s the entry: First Day of School

In the previous post, I mentioned that my husband had some input concerning the content of my blog

First, let me tell you briefly about what’s happened since I was in panic mode over him reading these blog entries. Soon after finding my blog, he said that he would try to read them in order to learn from them. He said that he genuinely wanted to change, and if he turned his emotions off while reading my stuff, then he thought he could learn how to bring peace to our marriage, at least the peace he could bring by changing.

I was skeptical. I mean, I’ve heard the change story over and over again (and maybe made similar promises myself) without seeing any measurable change after some time passed. Our history works against what he says, and as much as I wish I could just erase the doubt, it’s still there.

But I’ve got to tell you, the doubt is shrinking. He’s been reading the entries and discussing them with me. He’s not really discussing the subjects of the entries with me and he admits to me that just because I write it doesn’t make him believe it. He has reasons as to why what I write “isn’t true” for him; but yet he is not falling into the old trap of lecturing on why I am “wrong” to feel or think the way I do. He’s making an effort to learn my language, so to speak, and honestly my defenses are coming down.

The act of lowering my defenses puts me in dangerous territory in relation to my husband. Historically, when I lower my defenses I have suffered the most damaging results. But shit, I’ll try it one more time. Maybe I shouldn’t write that, but it’s my blog and I’ll give my secrets away if I want to. So there.

Now, to get off of the personal aspect of my husband’s advice…. He also has a valid point about what I want to accomplish by creating the site and this blog. I want other people to be able to read about my experience, then learn from it or disregard it. I hope my readers learn, but I can’t force it. Anyway, if I only share my turmoil, my readers won’t get the entire picture.

For example, I’ve just stated that I’m choosing to lower my defenses and share “secrets” about my lowered defenses with my husband (who is reading this blog). Now, no matter what consequence my decision has, my readers will also share in it. If I’m right for trusting him, you’ll know. And if I am wrong for trusting him, you’ll know. Either way, my readers will have another “external” experience to help you make your own tough decisions in your own tough and abusive relationships.

In addition, because my husband says he is trying to learn from my blog, he’s using it as a source of feedback, and desperately seeking to read about some of the good things he’s doing. Like I said before, my “crisis writing” style does not support “the other side of the story” – the side that keeps me here. He says that if another man who wanted to change his behavior read my blog, he’d really only read about the times my husband (and possibly the other guy) have been assholes.

Like my husband said, “I pretty much KNOW when I’ve been an asshole. I need to know when I’m doing something good.” When he extended that logic to other men like himself, he said that my site and blog would only teach them what they already knew – how to be an asshole. A blog that illustrates “good” behaviors along with any “bad” behaviors would give guys who really want to change an idea of what works and what doesn’t.

His opinion perfectly intersects with my intentions. And his sharing of it took courage…after all, my husband didn’t know what my reaction would be to his idea, but he is sincere enough about making positive changes in our relationship that he went out on a limb and risked it.

And that, to me, shows true change.

Not too long ago, I was talking to my sister about how I tend to reach out to other people when I’m embroiled in an emotional crisis, but as soon as things smooth out, the people who were my support stop hearing from me. Until the next crisis.

And today, I was discussing this blog with my husband, and he mentioned that every blog entry is negative or informational in tone. That is also true.

If the only representation of my thoughts are the ones I write “in crisis” then my life is being misrepresented – by ME. Looking over my journals from when I was a teenager and even in the 5th and 6th grades, I find funny entries, happy entries, angry entries and the common “update” types of entries. In short, my journals used to represent my whole life instead of simply the crisis points.

I don’t have any reason for that, really. I am leaning toward the idea that as I matured, I simply took less time to note the simple things. Instead, only emotional turmoil drove me to my journals (and family and friends). Over time, I’ll examine the reasons why the crisis writing and relating began, but I’m not going to start doing that analysis right now. Between my son’s behavior and trying to get a handle on my own behavior, I have my hands full.

However, I will commit to writing every day, even if it is simply an “update” type entry. A lot of times I avoid writing because it’s draining…but when I only write in crisis mode, it’s probably not the writing that’s draining, it’s the turmoil that drains me.

So, wish me luck as I attempt to recapture the “joys” of writing along with the therapeutic benefit of crisis writing; in addition, my family and friends will hopefully hear from me a lot more and over time, they won’t dread picking up my phone calls, expecting the worse.

*interestingly, I just now added two new tags to my list – “happy” and “goals” – and adding those tags brightened my mood and my outlook

You know, I thought about it, and he doesn’t need to use my phone to call anyone. I don’t really want him to leave the house, I want him to follow the rules in it. So I told him to give me the phone. He protested, but threw it on the couch with a flourish. I picked it up, and when he walked back through the room he purposely bumped me with his shoulder. I followed him to his room saying, “Don’t you do that! Do I have to call the police?” “I don’t care!” he said, walking away. “Come back here!”

I grabbed his shoulder and he told me to stop touching him. I said, “Ass wipe.” I wish I hadn’t said that. Name calling is a form of verbal abuse…it made me wonder if I am a controlling bitch.

But to no avail.

He repeated, “You’re kicking me out of the house!” as he walked out the door.

I said, “No, I’m not. I told you to go find somewhere to stay for a few days and suggested your grandfather, I never told you not to come home.”

“Yes, you did!” he yelled.

I locked the doors because he’s scaring me with the physical stuff.

He came to the side door and said, “At least let me get the numbers I need!”

I said no.

He said, “What the fuck is WRONG with you?!” and walked away. I don’t know where he is right now. Maybe he went to the neighbors.

My oldest son drank one of the three beers I had in the fridge. I confronted him, he admitted that he did it, and then he told me that I was over-reacting.

I was not yelling, I was not screaming; I was calm, but upset. I feel that I had every right to be upset. It wasn’t two weeks ago that we had the talk about him being in control of him self, but if he violated the household rules, then there would be consequences. I had planned for the consequence of his action to be the (re)loss of his laptop and NOT getting his cell phone back for another week. He changed that.

Our initial talk occurred on the couch. This is when he told me I was “acting crazy” and running around the house, “over-reacting” because of a beer. I (mistakenly?) asked his brother if he thought I was “acting crazy” but my older son yells, “NO! Don’t you bring him into this!” I sent my oldest son to his room.

I followed him there. I tried to talk to him, but he kept giving me attitude and saying that “it was just a beer!” and “why are you getting so crazy over a BEER?”

Now, mind you, I KNOW when I’m “acting crazy.” It happens with my husband, and I contribute to situations getting out of control. I was definately controlling my SELF. No yelling, no screaming – tears, yes because I am frustrated. Out of control? Definately not.

I told my son that if he was going to disrespect my wishes, then he could find somewhere else to stay for a few days. “Go ask your grandfather if you can stay with him.”

I’m not certain that the amount of disrespect I was getting from this child is coming through. Eye rolling, yelling, defining my actions and words as wrong and disrespectful…in short, by defining my actions he was attempting to make me feel guilty, back down, and accept that he could and would drink and do anything he wanted to and if I so much as got upset about it, then I was acting out of control.

I left the room and came out here. He followed me and started yelling, “Where the fuck am I supposed to go? It’s a Sunday night and we live all the way out here!”

I told him to stop talking to me in that way. He said, “You’re kicking me out of the fucking house! I’ll talk to you any way I fuckin’ want to!”

I waited to cool down. After picking up some stuff around the house and putting it away, I had calmed down enough to go talk to him. When I walked into his room, he was sitting on the floor meditating. I sat down quietly beside him and didn’t say a word. After a few minutes, he got up without saying a word.

I said, “Sit down,” and he did. I told him that I had laid out the rules two weeks ago and since that time, he’s been pushing. I had bought him a pack of cigarettes yesterday and I regret that decision – I shouldn’t have done it and I won’t do it again. The more concessions I make for him, the more he takes. I told him that one minute I’m his best friend in the whole world and the next I’m some idiot that doesn’t comprehend anything. (Yes, I know that is normal.)

But the one thing I couldn’t allow was blatant disrespect of me and the rules of the house because he thought he was grown.

He said, “I don’t think that I’m grown!”

I continued, “You are trying to bully me – ”

He cut me off with tears and some comment, but I continued with “Stop it – I’m tired of falling for tears when things aren’t going your way. You can follow my rules or you can leave.”

Miracles of miracles, he quit crying right, got up and walked out of the room yelling about how he wasn’t controlling anything. That this was MY way of controlling the situation – of controlling HIM. He left the house in his jeans.

I went to the attic and got the boy scout tent and tarp, then to his room to get the sleeping bag and a change of clothes. I put everything in one of those huge “sport size” ziploc bags so they wouldn’t get wet and put them outside the back door. I locked the doors and closed the curtains. I’m not playing this game. I meant what I said – he can follow the rules or he can get out.

I was hoping that he would have a night in the tent (or up at his grandfather’s place), learn to take me seriously, and “come home.” It doesn’t look like that’s going to happen.

I locked the side door, but it’s tricky…if you don’t do it right, you can push open the locked door. I obviously was not thinking about that when I locked the door, because my oldest walked right in about 15 minutes later. I told him that his stuff was out the back door and that he couldn’t stay here if he wasn’t going to follow the rules.

So now, he’s using my phone to call someone to pick him up. He told his brother that “If I leave, I’m not coming back.” Asked me where his bag was, I told him in the ziploc bag out the back door, he sighed, took it, and continues to walk around the house collecting the laundry I washed for him to put into bags his father and I provided to him.

So here we are.

I found a copy of Patricia Evan’s book “The Verbally Abusive Relationship” at google reader. The shared pages include how to tell if you’re in an abusive relationship. Don’t be afraid – it’s better to know than to keep denying it to yourself.

If you haven’t read this book, you should. There’s no better time than now! Go Do It.

Crazy-making is your abuser’s ability to throw you off balance and keep you teetering. Abusers accomplish this by saying one thing and then swearing they said the opposite or didn’t say it at all, by talking the talk but not walking the walk, by claiming that you are crazy and unbalanced, etc.

If you’re a victim of a crazy-maker, you often feel lost, disconnected, unsure of your standing in the relationship, etc. In short, crazy-making makes you feel like you are the crazy one.

If you’re doubting your sanity, here’s a great blog that can help you understand the crazy-maker’s techniques and motives and maybe even catch him in the act before he is able to make you CRAZY!

The Crazy-Making Husband