My Verbally Abusive Marriage

When I read your email, I felt your strength, your calm, your worry, and the underlying fear. I cried from frustration in knowing that there’s really not one damn thing you and I can do to help each other because we both know we have to “do” it on our own. I cried because it’s good to hear again that I’m not crazy and alone, AND I cried because it’s horrible to know I’m not crazy or alone. I wish I were alone in this, K, don’t you?

But we have these precious children. Not really children anymore, are they?

When I look at them, I see their innocence superimposed on pain. They’re hurting, aren’t they? They’re hurting because I stayed; they’re hurting because I might leave and make them go with me. I may tear their family, their reality, apart – just because I can. Just because I want to.

And even if they hear me say “I’m trying to protect you,” they don’t really know what I want to protect them from, do they? This is their life. This inexplicable craziness is the only reality they know.

“Mom and Dad love each other, it’s just a fight, they’re never going to abandon us, they’re going to stay constant so we can learn what life “out there” is going to be like.Mom and Dad are teaching us how to live, how to love. And now mom says this is wrong? What the heck is wrong with her?!

“This is the way it’s supposed to be. This is the way I’m supposed to be. Why is mom trying to destroy me?! “

You said,

“No one has ‘seen’ my bruises or scars and offered to help me get through this. It’s not ‘real’. Well…to them it’s not.”

and I know you’re talking about the other adults that live around us in some sort of bliss; in some sort of world in which they have the luxury of being able to say “other people have it worse” and dismiss us without giving another thought to the unseen suffering.

But you and I know the suffering, and we know the children are suffering. We know that other people do “have it worse” but that doesn’t make it okay for us to have it “this way.”

So now, what are we going to do about it?

We could go back up to the first paragraph and start reading again, looping, looping, looping our way to the crazy house.

What we’ve been doing doesn’t work. Thinking about it doesn’t work because it’s too easy to “understand” our way into the looping. Understanding is not what I need, and it’s not what I need to give. “Understanding” has super-glued my heart and mind to a mad man, and “understanding” will doom my children to repeating my loop.

In your heart of hearts, you know you’re leaving, don’t you?

I have no warning, I huddle in the dark as the tornado howls and screams, praying that the storm will silence itself. It seems unending. And when it leaves and the sun returns, I look at the faces of my children. The ones I huddled with in the blackness, pressing myself between them and the storm, protecting them, I think. But the turbulence and violence of the storm’s deafening words have left subtle marks on their faces and welts on their hearts.

We smile and pretend that it’s over. That the sunshine is here to stay. But beneath our relieved sighs are jangled nerves and we glance sideways to see if the storm is truly gone. We move about, hug each other, love each other, try to form peace by preparing for the next storm.

And after I feel prepared, after I think I’ve armed myself and my boys with the necessities and fortitude to withstand another stint in the screaming dark, I feel a little better.

The boys know I feel better. They know the storm can’t hurt them again. We mill around, we let ourselves be ourselves. We relax, we laugh.

But the storm comes back stronger and smarter. It takes out the necessities first, then sets its violence to breaking down the fortifications I thought were impenetrable. Brick by brick by brick, I am exposed to the winds, the icy hail, the feeling that someone took the floor out from under me.

I’m tossed through the blank air, wildly grasping for the children I vowed to protect. Unable to hold them, unable to shield them, unable to keep them from believing it is better to be the storm than the mom.

No, I haven’t made a new home in a nutshell, but I did find an excellent article written by Val Farmer entitled Emotional, verbal abuse follow common patterns.

I’ll be back with some new thoughts over the next couple of days. Right now I’m dealing with some “stuff” (and we all know what THAT is, don’t we?) Oh, we don’t?

Okay – briefly: As my teenage son struggles to create his adult identity, I’m seeing some scary similarities to his daddy. No, it’s not Marc’s “fault” that he’s acting out in these ways, and it’s not my husband’s “fault” either. Marc is acting like he’s been shown to act by his father.

The jury’s still out on whether I think my husband abuses on purpose or not, but I don’t think my son does. And I don’t think my son wants to. And if I hear “But I’m not doing anything wrong!” one more time, I think I’m going to pop a gasket.

The gasket that holds my brain inside my head…you’ve got one too, so watch it! The gasket that holds my love for my son in my heart is still intact, so that’s one less thing to worry about anyway.

I’m beginning to see the full impact of my decision to remain in a marriage in which “something was wrong” for all these years. But there’s no time to lament my part in this crappy abusive marriage, nor do I have the luxury of sitting around feeling sorry for myself and playing the victim’s violin.

I’ve got two boys that are going to be their own men in a few short years. I have a lot of work to undo.

And hey – if you have a second, send a prayer or some positive thoughts to whomever or wherever you send them, for me and my family, please. I am overwhelmed.

While reading Muffy Gibson’s book, “The Crazy-Making Husband”, I realized that although abuser’s methods may differ, the desired end result is the same. We wives must stop thinking, sharing and feeling things that are not true.

I am making an assumption as I write this: based on the Rules in her book, some abusive husbands have no ambition to better themselves or even to be productive member of his household.

I do not live with someone who for one minute lets me forget just HOW MUCH he does for me just by keeping a job and maintaining our property. He is motivated to excel in the Army; he is motivated to do all household projects by himself.

In fact, he is so motivated to excel at these things that OTHER PEOPLE SEE, that he has no time to work on our marriage or himself (as if HE needed any help).

Maybe other abusive husbands want to prove his wife wrong in her assessment that “work” is a viable, pleasurable, and productive activity. My husband seems to want to prove me wrong in my assessment that his “responsibilities” could include our marriage, our children, and me. He’s so busy putting on a show for the world that he has no energy for his family. And I’m supposed to “understand” that and not “bother” him with my silly complaints (most of which have been put there by other people anyway).

Regardless, all of these abusive men are acting like spoiled children. How DARE we wives NOT SEE how DEMANDING we are. How DETRIMENTAL to our husbands we are. How UNAPPRECIATIVE we are. How FLAWED our view of the world actually is. How DARE we believe something different from him! How dare we want him to stop living HIS life the way HE wants to live it.

Hmph. I guess I am the one who must stop living my life the way I want to live it. He’s the more important one. His opinion is the one that counts. The sooner I get that through my thick head, the happier he will let me be.

I think all of our abusive husbands share that sentiment.

*“The Crazy-Making Husband” is Muffy’s first book and she plans to follow up its release with others (About Muffy).

The greatest things about letting my boys visit cousins without me is this: I don’t have to wake up to a messy house! The house will be just like I left it when I went to bed – clean, neat, ready for the morning…

Um, I should have sent the kittens to visit relatives too!

But really, who can be upset with kittens?

And as I wrote that I couldn’t be upset with kittens, I realized that it’s because I accept them for what they are. Namely, playful, rambunctious, sweet, messy, and apparently full of feces.

Granted, I’m not going to be able to keep 9 cats; I’m going to have to give some away even though I do accept them for what and who they are.

Am I going to have to do the same with my husband? Am I going to have to give him away even though I “knew he was like this when we married”? Even though I wish he was nicer? Even though I think he’d be a happier man if he could learn to play nicely with others? Even though I want to stay?

One major difference between kittens and husbands is that I don’t expect kittens to change for me. I don’t seem to need evidence that a kitten “loves me.”  I love the kitten anyway.

Why do I expect my husband to prove he loves me by changing?

Why do I need anyone to prove their love to me?

I don’t seem to need anyone else in the whole world to validate me, approve of me, give me permission to be myself. They either like me or they don’t; love me or not. Of course, I DO want to be liked, but if I can’t be myself AND be liked by any other person in the world, then oh well.

So why have I given my husband this power over me?1 Why strive to be someone different for him?

Why should he strive to be someone different for me?

Even though I love all the kitties, I’m going to have to let them go. Although I love my husband, am I going to have to let him go too?

One site will keep you entertained for hours with pains in your sides from laughing so hard after only a few minutes of realizing that it is, in fact, okay to laugh at arguments especially when they’re not yours. Go to Things My Girlfriend and I Argue About.

He doesn’t (and doesn’t have to) see things my way. He doesn’t have to understand me in order for my reality to exist. He doesn’t have to agree with me for my thoughts to be valid. He doesn’t have to feel the way I feel to make my feelings true.

I’ve sometimes wished that he would feel as miserable as me so he would understand how impossible it felt to be his wife. But now I know that even if he does feel the confusing, painful, threatening, anxiety-ridden, depressing and unceasingly self-hurtful ways I have felt, there is no guarantee that our relationship or that he will change.

I must stop wishing him to “feel the way I feel” because in order for him to feel like me, I have to act like him. I don’t care if he feels like me or not. I feel like me, and that is becoming enough.

I was stumbling through the Internet today and turned up an interesting website entitled “Changing Minds -How we change what others think, feel, believe and do.”

One page in particular caught my attention. It’s topic is resisting persuasion, and I thought it may help me out because I feel that if I can resist his attempts to persuade me into second-guessing myself, wondering if he is absolutely correct about me, repeating the same argument, etc.

I discovered something interesting. The entire page sums up verbal abuse tactics used by abusers!

WHAT? I asked myself why “resisting persuasion” and “verbal abuse tactics” were one and the same. The only logical explanation that I can currently come up with is that he uses these tactics because he feels that I am trying to persuade HIM into thinking or doing something that he doesn’t want to do.

So what have I spent my married life trying to get him to buy? What do I want him to believe? What’s the underlying theme?

I want him to believe that my thoughts, feelings, and very existence is valuable. I’ve fought to be heard. I’ve tried to convince him that the way I feel is valid, the way I think is valid. I want him to believe that it is OKAY if we do not agree. It is okay if we behave differently. It is okay to be separate people although we’re bonded together in marriage.

And those very ideas are the ones that he resists. And he resists them using most of the techniques listed on the Changing Minds site.

Here’s the list from Changing Minds:Resisting Persuasion:
Attack: The best form of defending is sometimes to attack.
Blame: Make something their fault (and demand reparation).
Broken record: Keep repeating your refusal.
Can’t afford it: Show how you can’t afford what is being suggested.
Confusion: Act confused and put them off their stride.
Data dump: When they ask for information, cover them in detail.
Digression: Go off on a side track of talk.
Denial: Say that something is not true or did not happen.
Embrace, extend, extinguish: Pretend to agree then destroy.
Escalation: If you are pressured, get help.
Fake anger: Get cross and let them try to calm you down.
Fear, uncertainty and doubt (FUD): Sow seeds that make them less certain.
Filibustering: Non-stop talk to prevent others making their case.
Flight into health: Your problems magically go away.
Fuzzing: Keep things abstract and general.
Gaze avoidance: Do not get into a staring battle.
Higher authority: Refer the decision to a higher authority.
High ground: Grab the moral high ground and you are always right.
Hmm: Small noises that distract and confuse.
Ignorance: Profess ignorance in the topic.
I’ll think about it: Slow things down. Give yourself time.
Illogic: Use arguments that do not make sense.
Impracticality: Say ‘that won’t work’ or ‘It’s only theory’.
Interruption: Break up their flow with constant interruptions.
Mismatching: Do not let them copy you.
More data: Keep asking for more data.
Name the game: Tell them the tricks they are playing.
Not my job: Refuse work by claiming it is not your job.
Not surprised: Don’t be impressed, whatever they do.
Only theory: Discount ideas and explanations as ‘only theory’.
Pre-empting: Destroy their argument before they begin.
Procrastination: Put off until tomorrow the things you’re asked to do.
Reversal: Turn the tables and persuade them!
Qualifications: Counter a show of qualifications with better ones.
Say no: Just say no. That’s all.
Selective response: Only answer some things. Ignore the rest.
Silence: Say nothing (and watch them squirm).
Splitting hairs: Argue the detail.
Stonewalling: Holding to one position, no matter what is said.
Surprised: Be shocked that they would say such a thing.
Tears: If you can, get upset and turn on the tears.
Too…: Too early, too late, too expensive, etc.
Tried it: Say you’ve tried what is being suggested before (and it didn’t work).
Truth: Telling the truth ‘shall set you free’.
Unavailable: When they try to see you, be unavailable.
Unfair process: Object to the process. Say it’s unfair.
What about: Complexify by asking ‘what about…’.
Won’t work: Say that what is suggested will not work.
Yes, but: Agree, then show how they are wrong.
Yes, yes, no: Agree until you are asked to commit. Then say no.

There is so much information that would have been nice to consider before my relationship degenerated into what it has become. Unfortunately, I didn’t foresee the day when I couldn’t talk to and be heard by my husband; and maybe he feels the same way (or maybe he doesn’t – how could I know?). So should I spend my time wishing someone had given me a heads up to what was to come?

Is it useful to wallow in “if only” thoughts? And if my romantic notion that “things could have been different” is true, is it solely my fault that it isn’t?

No, it’s not my fault that two young people decided to get married before we were taught “how” to relate to one another and how we, being a man and a woman, may be hard-wired to act and react differently than the other expected.

It’s also not my responsibility to “teach” him a new way of communication. It’s not my responsibility to “make him listen” to me. It’s not my job to be a non-judgmental therapist AND asserter of what’s best for ME at the same time. Not only are those things not “my job” or responsibility, but they’re not healthy and more urgently, they’re impossible.

What I want and what I wish may never be my reality. But it’s time for me to accept a new reality: I am not responsible for him or his behavior. I want to support him, I want to love him, I want to be his wife. I want us both to be happy. But I can’t force it to be so, and no amount of hoping or waiting for it will change what is right now.

“Hope” holds dangers for me. Hope can be unrealistic and changeable, dependent on the hand of God or even my husband’s choices. I am giving up hope for anyone but myself. Instead of living in the shadow-world of hope, I am choosing to live in the bright sunshine – in this reality that I’ve co-created. And I am choosing to create a different reality for myself.

I hope he comes along in his way. But reality is changing for me. I’m going to reserve hope for myself alone, and I’m going to work towards what I hope for myself. He’s out of my hope equation.

I don’t want him out of my reality, but if co-existing in a mutual reality means that I have to hide myself and rely on hoping that he’ll be nice to me, then any mutual reality between myself and my husband is going to end.

i am no longer a mess
but i may be becoming a new kind of
crazy.
hazy. unpredictable.
but no longer unfortunate.
no longer in ruins.
edging out of the confusion
i dare look to a horizon i didn’t notice before.
like the old horizon, there is nothing discernible there.
nothing special.
unlike the old horizon, i want to walk toward it
instead of sitting here,
motionless,
hopeless.
i like the new horizon
even though there is a possibility
that it too is nothing special.
at least it is not terrifying.