Better than “It hurts my feelings when you…”
A comment on the previous post helped me to realize that I’ve got to come up with a strategy for dealing with my husband that doesn’t include telling him that he’s hurt me. He doesn’t care. Or rather, he’s glad that I’m hurt because that means he has the upper hand.
I’m ripe for travelling down the path plotted by him. How does it go?…
“I felt humiliated when you yelled at me like that in front of the boys,” I could say.
“Oh yeah? (smiling to himself, I’m sure) Turning, “Yeah, I wish that hadn’t happened too. If you could have heard how ridiculous you sounded, then you’d be glad that I cut you off.”
“I don’t think what I said was ridiculous, I think – ”
“That’s the problem,” he would say, “you think after you speak. It would be better if you…” Let me finish that statement in a way he never would, but is more truthful than what he says:
“It would be better if you…didn’t think things that I wouldn’t think or say. I would really like it if you would run your little thoughts by me first. Then, I could tell you how dumb they are before you open your mouth and embarrass me.”
Or maybe, “It would be better if you…sat in awe of me at my feet while I lectured you for hours about how right I am and how wrong you are if you disagree. I want you silent and compliant, and if I have to humiliate or suffocate you with MY words to make you respect my superior intellect then I will.”
The second I let him in on how I’m feeling, he sees an opportunity to attempt crushing me further. He’s really good at it. One way I can counteract his manipulativeness (is that a word?!) is by denying him the opening.
If he yells at me in front of my children, I won’t engage him. I won’t argue with him. I will say something like, “If you want to talk to me about this, we can go to the other room. I will not stand here and allow you to scream at and lecture me in front of our children.”
There’s no opening there. He doesn’t have the emotional ammunition he feeds on to continue in the same manner.
If I know him though, he’ll continue to push the boundary. Either he’ll ridicule the stand I took or continue saying whatever it is but in that tone of voice that oozes disdain, trying to make me feel small.
I can repeat myself, “I will not stand here and listen to this. I asked you not to speak to me like this in front of the children, and I don’t want you to speak to me in this way at all.” (He’s probably talking over me as I state these things, but that’s okay. I’m not repeating myself, and I’m doing my very best to NOT let him touch my heart.) And then I will walk away. Probably to my room where I can lock the door. (Note to self: put headphones and zune in bedroom so I can drown out his voice.)
Will that work, do you think?
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October 11th, 2009 at 3:54 AM
blog_update Better than “It hurts my feelings when you…”: A comment on the previous post helped me t.. http://bit.ly/2VYbBt
October 11th, 2009 at 8:01 AM
I think this is a great idea – but it is just going to awaken the beast in him and piss him off even more. He is not going to be able to get his berating in and it is going to either build up or his anger is going to overflow at that very moment.
Now…
That is not to say that I don’t agree with your plan! I think it is the absolute best you can do for yourself when it comes to this particular situation! Kudos to you!!
I wish you didn’t have to live like this. I really, really wish so….
October 11th, 2009 at 11:20 AM
I have to agree with you…when we share our emotions, it is putting us at a disadvantage. They don’t truly care about our emotions, they way we feel…or even think. I think you are right that you have to remove that part when you rebut him. Erin is right too, it may add fuel to the fire. But no matter how we are approaching it, he’s taking what he can for fuel for the fire. I say protect your emotions, your inner being, draw from your strength and don’t let him use what he sees as weakness.
October 11th, 2009 at 12:50 PM
Are we married to the same man?
I started ignoring my husband now too…he doesn’t like that much and will continue to work me…until he pulls me in.
October 11th, 2009 at 8:07 PM
wow, everytime you write something, it is as if I am reading my own life story. Thank you so much for telling us your story!!!!!!!!!! You help me realize that I am not alone!
November 11th, 2009 at 3:24 AM
I also find so many scary parts of your life that have been parts of my own for a long long time. It’s stunning. After so many years, the things your husband is doing weren’t enough for mine, and the locked door would get smashed right in! I don’t want to scare you or anyone, I’m sure you have enough fear and anxiety in your life. It’s just that I look and look for the stories of women who have experienced the same thing, so I can remember what it was like, so that I don’t go back. And also after a while I zoned out, kinda hypnotized myself I’m assuming, and immediately forgot what he had said or done. I put a thousand memories into little ziplock baggies and threw them in a dark corner. Here on the outs, I’m angry! I want to know what I’ve done in my life, and how I got here. Because I quit connecting the dots a long time ago! So I read what these women say, read and read and read. I step on landmines here and there, ouch, but at least I know. The problem is that a lot of people don’t feel their story is worth telling unless they got actually physically beaten. But–it’s weird– anytime he actually hit me or harmed my body, I didn’t feel ANYTHING. Even at the time I thought to myself, “how weird, that didn’t even hurt at all. My body is immune to pain right now!” All I did know was the pain in my head. HOW could he actually be doing this to me right now? It was much easier to be thrown across the room since it didn’t really hurt, my body like didn’t even count, compared to what he was doing to my mind. The worst thing that ever culminated between the two of us was a discussion he had with me one night. It lasted till four in the morning. Neither of us lost our temper. I do not remember what he said. But by the end my mind was BROKEN. I could scarcely have told you my own name. Up and down were no longer up and down, I’d have to look at him to see if up was still up right now. I’d have to check out the look on his face to find out whether the color of the sky was still considered “blue”. If the thought that this behaviour was totally absurd crept in, it didn’t compute with all the directives I had been given. Reality got tossed. Should some time go by and I woke up one morning with a bit of pep in my step, and any character in my words, the mind-breaking would recommence. Worse than any bruise. Worse than a broken tail bone! I wrote goodbye letters, one by one to my five children, figuring if I managed to complete the fifth letter, I’d check out.
I’m just really glad that I found your blog that you are writing. My heart aches for you that you keep going, because I see myself in you, and it’s like going back in time three months, and I want to scream like you do at the movies when the scary part comes on and even though the lady can’t hear you, you are frantic “Watch out! No, don’t go in that room! Hurry run faster!”
I feel awful thinking that any of my comments would make things worse for you, seriously, but I want to save you (me) a whole lot of pain. And time. Every day that you spend struggling is a day gone. You are probably learning, and we are sure grateful to hear someone express our very intimate lives so eloquently, and actually put a face to a frustration that goes totally unknown by anyone who’s not been in it… But you don’t have to sacrifice for us anymore. Since you aren’t sacrificing for yourself, and even though you love them and want it to be a sacrifice for the boys they’d probably be relieved to end the chaos, so what I’m saying is that you are sacrificing yourself for HIM. Why? He wouldn’t do it for you, he said so himself. “If you made me this miserable I’d have left you long ago.” Something like that. You know him, and you know he wouldn’t be willing two experience two seconds of discomfort while he patiently waited for you to get your shit straight. I feel like, even though we are absolute strangers (this is going to sound SO weird), I feel like telling you that I love you and would love to know you are taking care of yourself and living the happy life you deserve, and that is a glorious feeling, because I must love my own damn self then! Trip on that! I haven’t loved or cared about my own self in a while!
November 19th, 2009 at 3:24 PM
The first time he put his hands on me, I was completely surprised to find my face centimeters away from the hot stove burner. The second and third times were different. I was relieved that he had taken physical action. It meant it was almost over and that it wouldn’t come back for awhile. Nothing hurt those times; it was blessed relief.
I am going to think about your words, “…you don’t have to sacrifice for us anymore.” My first inclination is to say, “I’m NOT” and huff and puff myself into rightful indignation. But I’m not going to do that. IS my blog my resignation? Have I decided, once and for all, that I am going to stay in this abuse and dutifully report it to you? Am I deciding to stay because I feel I can help you decide NOT to stay if you witness the trials I experience?
Initially, my answer is no. I do want to express this disaster to anyone who wants to read it. But I do not have a solid ending for my story. I don’t know where this leads. I am undecided on many things EXCEPT for the decision that this abuse will stop, one way or the other. The only caveat is my own, possibly irrational, thoughts that I owe him a chance to right himself and I owe myself a chance to right myself, before deciding to leave or stay.
I feel for you, crying at the movie screen trying to help this heroine bypass the terrors in the future. I thank you for screaming so loudly – I can practically hear you. But I must follow this story to its natural end. Who would pay to see a movie that ends in the middle? Who would want to live a life that fades to black when it gets tough?
It’s not weird that you love me, and it’s not weird that I love you. It does mean that we love ourselves, and it does mean that we do truly know how to love! That is a glorious beginning, and it makes the end not so scary.