My Verbally Abusive Marriage

My emotions are whirling. I feel victimized and angry about temporary injustices. Then I’m sad. Then I’m impatient. Then my stomach is sour. I suppose my stomach being sour isn’t an emotion, but I seem to feel it like one.

It is tough to associate with people who have no business knowing anything at all question my actions instead of questioning their assumptions. It’s tougher to not explain myself. My explanations don’t match their assumptions, and they think I’m lying. I am done explaining myself to anyone but my attorney, but I really doubt I’ll have to explain much to her.

Funny thing about healthy people is that they recognize abuse for what it is, and actions resulting from it as defensive posturing, not offensive manipulation.

If I could wish one thing for myself tonight, I would wish that I didn’t give a damn what anyone else said about or to me. I would realize that my inner knowing and strength is ALL I need, and that seeking to convince anyone of my position is wasteful of my time and energy. The ones I most desire to convince are the ones that will never be convinced; it is time to let them go.

My motives for convincing these same people are questionable, at best. What would I gain from convincing them their friend/kid/brother/soldier was less than what they assume him to be? Vindication. And I’m not after vindication. I’m after peace. It’s time to stop trying to garner validation and understanding from people who will never give it.

I think I wish I’d had a little more time to prepare myself, to get myself to a healthier place. But then, alongside that thought comes the realization that me being healthier, reacting in healthier ways toward the abuse, is exactly what threatened him the most.

A couple of days ago, Marc and Eddie were sitting on the couch with their computers. They called me in and began a “conversation” between Stewie (Family Guy) and Ashton Kutcher sound boards.

I’ve got to tell you, the “conversation” between those two people turned out to be the funniest damn thing I’ve heard in forever. Marc played Ashton and Eddie played Stewie, and although I’d never ever in a million years considered what their conversation may be like, I got a pretty good idea via the creativity of my boys.

Part of the conversation went something like Stewie telling Ashton not to mock him, at which point Ashton teased Stewie about his job at the drive-thru window. Stewie got madder and Ashton kept ordering food.

It is painfully obvious that I need to work on my humorous story-telling, but this story may not be funny to anyone outside of my living room two nights ago anyway. But really…Ashton Kutcher and Stewie? They’re funnier together than you might think.

Check out a website (such as this one) that have soundboards with clips of things famous characters and people have said. Another possibility for these soundboards are prank calls…but I wouldn’t know anything about that childish nonsense.

My boys and I are currently cut-off from all marital funds. I am not concerned that this situation will persist. In fact, I know that it cannot, under law, continue.

I would like to take the opportunity to address “finances” as it relates to emergency plans. If you leave abuse and take marital funds with you, it is true that half of those funds are “owed” the marital kitty. However, if you take money with you, then you have not broken any law. The money is yours as well as his. Keep your receipts, document why you spent said money, and spend prudently.

Likewise, all debt incurred during the separation (via joint credit cards) is also the responsibility of both parties. You do not relieve yourself of joint credit card debt during the divorce – like all other monetary issues, debt is a marital financial concern and will be dealt with in court or in your separation agreement.

What I’m saying is that you are as financially responsible as your spouse for all assets and debts incurred during your marriage and during the separation period. Depending on your situation, you may or may not have to “repay” any money to the marital kitty later on. Count on having to repay it.

So, as you make your emergency plan, go into it fully aware of your responsibilities. You are not stealing if you take marital funds with you when you leave, but you may be required to settle up later. So don’t be a dummy and buy a bunch of crap in revenge or out of spite or just to show him you can. That behavior is irresponsible; protecting yourself when you leave is not irresponsible.

Speaking of things you can count on, count on your would-be controller to do everything in his/her power to leave you helpless and insecure. The more miserable you are, the more likely you are to return to the environment you left, and your abuser knows it. Even if you believe he doesn’t want you to return, at least admit to yourself that he doesn’t want you happy.

Your happiness is possibly the biggest threat to your abuser. When you’re happy, then you’re strong. When you’re strong, you may well realize that you don’t want the life you created with him.

I’ve known this for awhile, and it feels odd to have my innate knowing become such an accurate predictor of future events.

“There’s no threat of a weak and broken woman walking out on him. No threat of a woman unable to provide for herself walking away. As long as I doubt every single skill I possess that creates beauty and value in this world, I am impotent against his brutal verbal, emotional and mental attacks.” ~from Turning Inward

I’m happy. Watch out.

I’ve been considering the best ways to proceed with this blog, and I’ve decided to continue writing it pretty much the same way I’ve always done it – honestly, openly, and with the focus being on what I’m doing and how I’m feeling as I deal with the abuse in my life. This blog is about me and my world as I feel it to be, and exposes, often in hindsight, the dire truths of my situation. It is a record only because I cannot and do not know what is to come, or to become of me.

I write what I feel; the truth according to me. Not the truth according to Will or the truth according to my boys, but the truth according to me.

I trust that everyone readily understands that there are always at least three versions of truth when there is a truth to be told – your version, their version, and the indifferent record of events imprinted upon the universe which will probably never be revealed.  Sometimes all three versions line up perfectly. Usually, the three versions of truth do not align, and we people dive into the business of “sorting things out” which usually results in another version of events which is not the truth either.

I think that the law engages in “sorting things out” and, although the process always works (because we the people empower it to do so), there is much omitted from the final report. The understated language of the law, although forceful, is often not as clear or forceful as I wish it would be. The law is not my voice, but I must adhere to it strictly because to ignore it would cause the court to “sort things out” in a more biased way.

Legal issues, such as separation and divorce, require discretion. Today in court I was not surprised by anything that happened, and that was a very good thing for my side of the truth. The ex parte order stands with one revision: my attorney requested visitation for the boys with their father.

My attorney also requested and was granted a line on the amended protection order that reads: “Parties are not to discuss this case or make any remarks about the other parent while in front of or around the minor child(ren).”

I consider this blog to be “in front of or around” my children. They know I have a blog. I don’t think they’re interested enough to visit it, but fact is that THEY COULD, and there is no way to stop them from viewing it.

So, here we are back at the first paragraph, how to proceed with this blog.

I will not write about the specifics of this case, and I will not bad-mouth the boys father either. I believe that I can share how I’m doing, what I’m thinking, feeling, and (to an extent) experiencing without violating any court order. (By the way, I don’t mind at all being placed under the same restrictions as Will. It’s only fair.)

I can share, as it pertains to our separation, any event that I would share with my boys. For example, when I saw them today, I told them that they get to visit their dad, and neither dad or me is allowed to say anything bad about the other in front of or around them. Those are facts they must know, and probably both revelations are a relief to them.

It may be challenging at times to refrain from adding specifics to my posts, but I am willing and able to write with the constraints.

“Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high
Where knowledge is free
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments
By narrow domestic walls
Where words come out from the depth of truth
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way
Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit
Where the mind is led forward by thee
Into ever-widening thought and action
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.”

~Rabindranath Tagore (writing of India)

Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let ME awake.

It sucks not being able to tell you everything. I wish I could live this part of my experience online, but for various reasons, I cannot.

I can tell you that although I find myself crying at times, I also find myself laughing at times. And even though my oldest son is livid with me, there is a peace in this house that was not here before.

Perhaps the peace in the house is the peace I feel within, too.

Although I hate the events that brought me to today, I wish they had not happened, in some very real ways, they had to happen. I had to see that he meant it when he said, “I am not going to change.” He has thoroughly convinced me.

He will not change.

And if he will not change, will not examine himself to extricate his own demons, but continue demonizing me in their place, then he will continue to contribute to the hellish environment we both have been experiencing. He might be telling himself that this is the world I created, that the events that happened were the result of something I did; or he might be coming to terms with the reality of our situation. I cannot know what he is thinking, and I have to remind myself of that 20 times a day.

I also cannot know, nor do I want to know, what he is doing, what he is saying about me, what he could be plotting. The longer I think of the darkest side I’ve seen of him, the more frightened I become. I know that living in fear results in not living (I’ve been doing it long enough to know), so I refuse to let my fear control my thoughts and actions. I am as prepared as I can be, and that will have to be enough.

I’m also aware of the duality of his personality. I know that there will be a time when he comes to me softly. I don’t know what he may request of me at that time – perhaps it will be to tell me goodbye – but it will happen, and I know that even then, I cannot let my guard down. His darker side is too real, and his softer side too infrequent, for that delicate moment to carry further than the time I’m face to face with him, hearing him say those things (whatever they will be).

I already miss some of the kind times we’ve had together. Our first kisses, our first laughs, the births of our children. Even so, those things are memories and will always be memories at this point – they could never happen again. It has been so very long since we’ve had any kind times together, so wishing for them so I would have one last good memory with the man I’ve loved through it all is pointless. What we have is what we have, and it will be enough.

Besides, even though apart, we still get to watch our sons grow and fall in love. We still get to be grandparents, and there will be joy in the upcoming days, separate as we will be.

The way I see it, in a future not too far away, I will see more of the goodness of Will in the rest of my days than I will see the darker bits of him. There won’t be the opportunity to see the bad because if the darkness pops out of him, I will leave wherever he is and go to my own peaceful home and be thankful that, although alone, I am safe, content, and prosperous.

I am grateful, very grateful, for all of you.  Some of you have called more than once today to find that my line is busy. You’ve left voice mails and emails, and randomlyk, thank you for what you did, too.

I am also very tired, and it is very late. But for anyone who I didn’t call back today, please know that I will check in tomorrow – or so I plan. It so happens that most of the calls I received and didn’t answer at the time came at a time when I was talking to another friend. I am feeling blessed.

There was a time when no one would be calling me at a time like this because no one would have known. I am so glad that I spoke up.

For anyone out there who is in an abusive situation, it is time for you to reach out too. It is time to begin remembering that people love you, really love you. And if you can’t think of any, then it is time to find a domestic violence group, book club, a gym, an online board if you must, somewhere where you can be YOU and start to remember that you are important, that you matter.

Trust me, the people you need will be drawn to you, and you will build your support system.

You know in your heart of hearts that “one day” you may be in my shoes – anxious, hyper-aware, unable to sleep properly or even remember to eat – because your abuser finally did the thing that you cannot accept one more time. And those people that you know or haven’t met yet will do what those who love me have done for the past four days.

They will call you, message you, text you, email you and poke you. Some will want to stop by and you will have to say, “I’m too tired and the kids are here” and they will understand. They will help you. They will invite you into their homes, unconditionally, whenever you feel the least bit insecure, scared, or anxious.

They will tell you how proud they are of you, how strong you are, how brave…and you may not believe those things to be true when you hear them, but after hearing them enough, you will come to believe that you are worthwhile, that you are brave, and that you did the right thing even though it was the hardest thing you’ve ever done.

They will remind you that time is your friend, keep you sane when you think that you should have done 101 things today when you only did 3. Even though the world has ended, the days are of the same length and the superhero strength it took to do the thing you did does not slow time, does not give you more time to complete the steps needed to get you from hell to peace.

They will also feel a little helpless because they WANT so badly to do SOMETHING…and you will keep them in your thoughts because sometime soon, you may need something that only that person can give, and they will give it to you. Like my old friend told me, you will have to let people help you, and that is one of the most difficult things to do.

To all of you who have extended your hand to me, no matter how you did it, I am feeling your support and your love. I have the sense that even some who haven’t contacted me directly are sending me prayers and warm thoughts. There is not a word that describes how grateful I am to all of you.

This is far from over, but I know I am far from alone, and that, my friends, is the greatest gift I’ve EVER accepted. Thank you.

Understandably, I’m sure, I am not going to share the details of what is transpiring right now. There are things that are not safe to say to anyone besides the parties involved.

Tomorrow, after a much needed sleep, I will continue to report on how I’m feeling and as much as possible, what I am doing.

What I am doing right now is acting on my emergency plan. It kicked into effect when the cops were called the other night, and it is continuing as I write.

But for those of you who are worried for me, I want you to know that for now, I am fine.

Each minute is different. During the horrible ones, I hold on, knowing that the next minutes will not be so terrible. The hardest part is honoring the anxiety I have without letting it overcome me.

I am very worried that he will break his no-contact orders. Of course, everyone out here I know because of Will. They all say that they do not think he’ll do anything, that it is okay to relax.

With all due respect, how would they know?

If they knew my husband so well, then why didn’t they see this coming (again)? They tell me “not to worry” because they do not want to further upset what they thought was true about my husband. They will be happier when they see HIM smile, hear HIM say the “right thing” (which he will) so they can believe the worst of me instead of change their perceptions of him.

What does one say at the death of a relationship? I suggest that no one ever say, “Don’t worry.”

How dare they tell me not to worry when I am the only person in the world whom my husband will throw around like a rag doll and call a whore, a traitor, and a million other nasty things. Did he ever call YOU those names? Did he ever put his hands on YOU in an attempt to control and scare you?

I doubt it. You don’t know him like I do, so please stop trying to make me pretend that I know him like YOU do.

Please, don’t tell me not to worry.

For the love of Pete, please, Army spouses, understand that you CAN report domestic abuse in your home WITHOUT your soldier losing his career!

Army policy may require counseling, classes, and interviews, but your report WILL NOT ruin his career. Hell, the Army may mark your report as “unsubstantiated” like they did my first one, and absolutely NOTHING WILL HAPPEN to your soldier.

You see, the Army learned the hard way that putting guys out of the military (killing their careers)  increases their anger AT THEIR WIVES AND FAMILY. These soldiers leave the Army and the abuse at home increases – or someone ends up DEAD.

The only way my husband’s career will come to an end is IF he does something (else) to piss off his command. He could be disciplined for not being financially responsible to us. He could be disciplined for breaking his no contact order. He could be disciplined for disobeying an order (just like always!), but the MOST he will receive out of my report is a poor counselling statement. He may not even get THAT.

And for God’s sake, please understand that if you report HIM because HE IS ABUSING YOU, then you have done nothing WRONG. Think about it. The Army marginalizes us spouses/families for the most part…how in the HELL are we powerful enough to end a man’s career?!

Besides, correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t we talking about abuse here? Who’s fault is THAT?

OURS?!

MINE?!

Whatever. I’ve talked to the Social Services in the Army hospital  in 2008, during domestic violence group meetings between then and now, and on Friday. I know that “what I’ve done” is not a career killer for HIM, but if I don’t get help, then it could be a life killer for ME.

Report it. Report it. Report it.

Report it.

Has it been only one night? Last night, Will was intimidating and verbally harassing me when my anxiety levels went through the roof. Almost directly after writing, “Smack. Smack. Smack.” in reference to the belt he was snapping, I got up from this computer, went to my room, put on my boots, grabbed a pillow and a blanket, and left the house.

I returned when I thought he’d passed out, but he surprised me at the door. Eventually he forced himself into the bedroom and put his hands on me while yelling nasty things.

I called the cops. There were no marks on me, so they could not remove him from the house. I decided that I would leave.

For the remainder of the night (early morning) I pressed charges (assault against a woman) and requested an ex parte order, which was granted, temporarily, until January 28th. I went on post and filled them in and they notified his unit and a 72-hour no contact type order from his command was issued.

Finally, yesterday evening, the sheriff delivered the ex parte, requiring Will to pack his clothes and toiletries and leave the house.

The cop (who was rude and uncommunicative with me) arrested Will in front of our boys (!) and put him into the car with handcuffs on. (I had been told that Will would pack up his stuff and then be escorted to the jail for processing, most likely leaving after processing to go anywhere but home.)

So, until January 28th, the ex parte order is in place. Civilly, Will has been ordered to stay away from our home, our children, our pets, my car, and me. No contact with any of us, period.

On the 28th, we go to court.

I will write more later. For now, we are safe and I am holding up well. I alternate between relief and regret, but the regret has nothing to do with the actions I’ve taken since the violence in the bedroom.

I am sad and feel like I will simply fall down and  die at times.