My Verbally Abusive Marriage

Yes, this is Eminem’s song “25 to Life” and Marc tells me it’s about him leaving Hip-Hop, which it very well may be. But it’s about something else, too. In case you don’t like Eminem, I copied the lyrics below the song.

I don’t think she understands
The sacrifices that I made
Maybe if this bitch had acted right
I would have stayed
But I’ve already wasted over half my life
I would have laid down and died for you
I longer cry for you
No more pain
Bitch you took me for granted
Took my heart and ran it straight into the planet
Into the dirt
I can no longer stand it
Now my respect I demand it
Imma take control of this relationship
Command it
And I’m gonna be the boss of you now goddammit
And what I mean is that
I’m will no longer let you control me
So you better hear me out
This much you owe me
I gave up my life for you
Totally devoted to you
Why I’ve stayed
Faithful all the way
This is how I fucking get repaid?

Look at how I dress
Fucking baggy sweats
Go to work a mess
Always in a rush to get back to you
I ain’t heard you yet
Not even once say you appreciate me
I deserve respect
I’ve done my best to give you
Nothing less then perfectness
And I know that if I end this
I’ll no longer have nothing left
But you keep treating me like a staircase
It’s time to fucking step
And I wont be coming back
So don’t hold your fucking breath
You know what you’ve done
No need to go in depth
I told you you’d be sorry
If I fucking left
I laughed while you wept
How’s it feel now?
Yeah funny ain’t it
You neglected me
Did me a favor
Let all my spirit free
You’ve said
Got a special place for you
In my heart
That I have kept
It’s unfortunate but it’s

Too late
For the other side
Caught in a chase
25 to life
Too late
For the other side
Caught in a chase
25 to life

I feel like
When I bend over backwards for you
All you do is laugh
Cuz that ain’t good enough
You expect me to fold myself in half
Till I snap
Don’t think I’m loyal
All I do is rap
How can I moonlight on the side
I have no life outside of that
Don’t I give you enough of my time?
You don’t think so do you?
Jealous when I spend time with the girls
Why I’m married to you still
Man I don’t know
But tonight I’m serving you with papers
I’m divorcing you
Go marry someone else
And make em famous
And take away their freedom
Like you did to me
Treat em like you don’t need em
And they ain’t worthy of you
Feed em
The same shit that you made me eat
I’m moving on
Forget you
Oh now I’m special
I didn’t feel special when I was wit you
All I ever felt was this
Helplessness
Imprisoned by a selfish bitch
Chew me up and spit me out
I fell for this
So many times
It’s ridiculous
And still I stick with this
I’m sick of this
But in my sickness
And addiction
Your addictive as they get
Evil as they come
Vindictive as they make em
My friends keep asking me
Why I can’t just walk away from
I’m addicted
To the pain, the stress
The drama
I’m drawn to shit
So I guess I’m a mess
Cursed and blessed
But this time imma
Ain’t changing my mind
I’m climbing out this abyss
Your screaming as I walk out
That I’ll be missed
But when you spoke of people
Who meant the most to you
You left me off my list
Fuck you hip hop
I’m leaving you
My life sentence is served bitch
And it’s just

Too late
For the other side
Caught in a chase
25 to life
Too late
For the other side
Caught in a chase
25 to life
Too late
Caught in a chase
25 to life

Once upon a time, I lived in a world of disapproval and fear. I listened to a man who demanded I make him happy, then grew angrier when I could not. I thought something was wrong with me, so I sought to change who I was to become more pleasing to that man.

But as I changed my outward self, my inner self grew angry. I began to act out in subtle ways (like not packing his lunch as he liked – on purpose). And later, I heard my angry self yelling and screaming. One time I told that man to suck my balls. I called him a prick and raged at him. And he returned the behavior three-fold, desperately trying to re-create the princess he thought I was by intimidating the hate-filled troll, forcing her to disappear.

I didn’t know WHO I was. Was I hateful or loving? Was I a princess or a troll? What exactly did I want to be? I clung to his impressions of me, his analyzations of why I did what I did. I listened as he told me I hated men, that I was manipulative, that I was always looking for a fight. I sought to change those things about myself not realizing that he described himself, not me.

In me, he had once seen a fairy-tale princess and thought that living in a tower, isolated from the world except for him, was what I wanted. He put me on a pedestal with a tiny pin-point place to stand. Every time I lost my balance, he became upset - his princess should know how to balance on that pedastal and never lose her footing. He saw me as weak and fragile, unable to live up to even the basest standards of the cruel world he held in his mind, and he tried to be my knight in shining armor, my only connection to the outside world of which, he imagined, I had no understanding.

He tried to protect me from the world. And then he tried to protect me from myself. He tried to help in the only way he knew – by forcing me to be like him, or at least like the fairy-tale princess he imagined me to be.

And I wanted him to save me from the hate-filled troll I imagined myself to be. But no one can save me from myself. And although “myself” was horrid, it was horrid because I denied my true self. My true self fought to reclaim its place, its rightful place, by creating such an ill environment that I was forced to acknowledge its presence.

And when I realized that I was not hate-filled because that was who I was but because I was fighting for my life, it was the beginning of “The End.”

Diana is, I think, the youngest person to contact me in hope of breaking the silent pattern of abuse. She’s 18, and her abuser is 23.

Although I hesitate to use the word “fortunately”, I find myself thinking it because at the time of her writing, she was not with her abuser due to his physically violent rampage. He went for her throat, pushed her into a window.

Read Diana’s Abuse Testimonial.

Ali’s testimonial gets right to the root of the problem for abuse victims. It’s beautifully written, like sad, dark poetry.

She wrote me in February, and I am greatly sorry that I didn’t post her testimonial sooner.

Read Ali’s Testimonial - you won’t be disappointed, although it will make you think, wonder, and maybe recognize yourself and the abuse you’ve suffered.

Carolyn wrote an abuse testimonial a couple of months ago. I hadn’t posted it yet because I didn’t really want to think about my own abuse. That wasn’t fair, and I’m sorry Carolyn, that you waited so long.

As you read through it, think about the years Carolyn has lived with this verbal, emotional and mental abuse. The time it takes you to read the testimonial is nothing compared to the years she’s spent living the abuse. I got a knot in my stomach realizing that many of the abuses she reports were happening in real time even though she was listing past abuse.

Carolyn’s Abuse Testimonial

Lately I’ve not preached the gospel of what verbal abuse IS or how it is affecting me because I’m in a new phase. The phase that exists after the prime abuser is removed from the majority of life. However, just because I’m revelling in the freedom, that doesn’t mean that all of YOU are revelling with me! So I’d like to share some links about abuse and where you can find help and relief from it.

The Narcissism Daily Mirror, author Kim Cooper, is writing a series on verbal abuse. The latest one is When verbal abuse is covert or may not sound like verbal abuse … Check to the right of the article to view the others pertaining to verbal abuse.

My friend recently found a site called Women Exhale. It’s an inexpensive alternative to traditional therapy for abuse victims, and it is not insurance based, meaning that your abuser will not receive notice of your choice to seek therapy from any insurance approval letters that may come to your house.

Patricia Evans, author of books such as “The Verbally Abusive Man: Can He Change?”, is online at VerbalAbuse.com. I highly recommend becoming a member of her message boards. Yes, you must call the toll free number to join the board, but this is done to ensure only abuse victims have access to this resource. No abuse perpetrators allowed. When I called, I spoke to Patricia directly, and had access to the boards within minutes.

For information on verbal abuse, try Dr. Irene.Please call or virtually visit the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 800-799-7233 even if you don’t know what you’re going to say, and even if you haven’t experienced the physically violent side of domestic violence (yet). Domestic violence includes mental, emotional, verbal, financial, and all other sorts of abuse. Just because you’ve never had a bloody lip or blackened eye does NOT mean you are not experiencing domestic violence.

To read my story from the beginning (1992), start at Less Than I Am and click “Next” at the upper right to continue. Or to read testimonials from other abuse survivors, visit Your Journal Entries.

Also, check out the Blogroll and Links section to the right, near my facebook badge. The more you know, the more powerful you become. The more power you have within yourself, the sooner you can make changes to stop the cycle of abuse.

You do not have to leave your abuser right now or ever, you can stay. That is a valid choice.

For me, I chose to stay until I’d reached a point of power within myself that did not allow me to stay any longer. But before that point, I had begun reacting differently to the abuse. Back then, there was no way to know if my husband would change or not, but I hoped he would.

Hope is not a solution, it’s a distraction. Stop hoping and start educating yourself.

Tonight, a conversation occurred that I knew would come but hoped would not. Will was angry after reading the past few days’ blog entries. He feels that he is doing everything he can to provide for me, and yet I continue to drag his name through the mud.

He says that he believes that I believe what I write is the truth, but says I do not tell the whole story. He insists that I have never mentioned throwing keys at him, or to saying mean things to him. He says that he has done nothing I haven’t done, that we are both equally wrong.

He says that I am slandering him. Dictionary.com defines slander as “a malicious, false, and defamatory statement or report  (i.e. a slander against his good name).” So I am lying, he says.

He told me that I had better write something good about him. He has an appointment with his attorney on Wednesday and they are going to initiate the financial consent order. If I want him to be reasonable, then I’d better write something good. When I asked if he was threatening me, he said he was “promising” me.

The really sad thing about his promise is that in the past 24 hours I have spoken to two family members about the things I truly love about Will. But I hadn’t had time to blog (weird, isn’t it, for a woman who “isn’t doing shit” to not have time to blog).

Last night, I told my mother that he protected me from other men (who, after the date rape, were the enemy). That he was once intrigued by the ways we differed. I was an artist, a free spirit, and although he didn’t understand me, I offered something to him that he must have needed. He loved me. He wanted to provide a home, a family, and financial security to me and our children, and he has done those things admirably.

Never once have I worried that my family would have no income, or that he would refuse to have or keep a job. In fact, there were times he carried the burden of two jobs on his shoulders while I remained at home, safe and sound, with our young boys.

Will re-entered the military in small part because there was no real future in the company he worked for due to buy outs and the resulting seniority issues, but also because he believed that the military could offer more family time. It may sound silly to assume the military would offer more family time, but at that time, he was working second shift with no change in sight and NEVER got to spend much time with his boys. The military offered a 9-5 job, home on the weekends; he couldn’t have anticipated the number of times he’s been ordered to deploy or the length of time he would be gone.

This morning, I spoke to my grandmother. I told her that Will was now the father I know he always wanted to be. Since his return from deployment in December, his children are his priority…not work, not his “schedule”, not his other commitments to friends/acquaintances. He is enjoying time with his boys – real and memorable time.

They work together, they joke together. I know his relationship with them is different from my relationship with them, but I sense a closeness between them that wasn’t there before. Marc and Eddie were excited to see their dad on Sunday night; I was happy for it, happy for them – all three of them.

But yet, this post, the one that most likely would have come naturally from me, is bittersweet. I so wish I hadn’t talked to him tonight; if I hadn’t spoken to him then this post would have been better. It would have been “good”. It wouldn’t have included the introductory part about his “promise” to me.

A facebook friend posted this quote: “Never grow a wishbone, daughter, where your backbone ought to be.”

Good advice. But I think my wishbone is coming back. Or maybe it just never left.

I think I am foolish for wishing what I wish. My wish is the same as the day I started this blog: I want the four of us to be a happy, healthy family. I don’t want a divorce, I don’t want to divide my family. Our precious boys deserve so much better than this.

The problem is that I hate myself for wishing what I wish.

I have this idea that somehow, after almost three months, I should be more solid in my resolve to just “end it”. I remember writing somewhere that the HOPE was what was killing me. Unfortunately, I still hope.

On the flip side, I have some ideas about what happened in court last week. I’m not going to share them here because, well, they’re my ideas and I’m going to consider them alone.

I’ve told Will that I’ll work through a financial consent order with him. But I’m not signing it until after we go through custody mediation on the third of May. I want shared custody at least, and if he won’t agree to it, then I’ll put everything on the line for the judge to decide. Finances, custody…everything.

Yes, I know the judge decided in his favor last time. Yes, I know it could happen again. Will doesn’t want to go back to court because of the hurtful things my attorney says on my behalf. Of course he’s hurt now in public – when I told him similar things in private, he didn’t care. It’s the public persona vs. private persona thing.

The things his attorney says piss me off – they do. I’m hopping mad over some of the stuff his attorney has said. But I’m not embarrassed. Why? Because it isn’t true; I know the truth in my heart, and what I hear in court isn’t true. I’m trying very hard to leave it in the court room. What goes on in there is like a 30 second snapshot of an 18 year marriage in which NO ONE looks good. Well, maybe. I don’t know what picture the judge is looking at.

Well, I am embarassed to tell people that the judge gave temporary primary custody to Will. THAT is humiliating beyond words. I cannot tell you how embarassed I am to inform people of the judge’s decision. But that judge’s decision was HIS DECISION. He made it, not me. A judge made the decision, not God.

I know I’ve been the best mother I know how to be. I know I don’t deserve to be sidelined in my children’s lives. I am praying and listening even though God’s voice is muted under the weight of worry and sadness I carry in my heart.

All I can do is keep moving forward. But I’m not going to sign documents with which I do not agree, and I’m not signing anything until Will agrees to shared custody. To me, shared custody means that we both live under the same set of rules. I don’t have to ask him for extra time with our children and he doesn’t have to ask me.  (We will, at times, request extra time for special reasons I’m sure.)

I’m sure I don’t have to explain to you how ASKING HIM for anything in relation to the boys contributes to his ability to maintain control. If Will doesn’t agree to shared custody, then nothing will be signed and the judge can choose what is to become of us.

I’ve got nothing to lose. The boys are my boys no matter how much time I have to see them. No judge can “take them away” from me, not really. And in about five years, the judge’s decision won’t matter anyway.

Will and I went to mediation yesterday. We did not sign a parenting agreement. We return to mediation on May 3rd, a date by which we plan to have a financial consent order in place. I told him I wouldn’t sign ANYTHING until after the custody mediation.

However, Will suggested I keep the boys with me last night, and Thursday through Saturday night, dropping them off with him on Sunday at 7pm.

Of course, I accepted.

I don’t know why the judge did what he did that day. My confusion is vast and unending, and I am not going to try to figure out the “why” at this point.

Well, that’s not totally true. “WHY?” is the biggest question on my mind. But since I cannot get into the judge’s head, there is no way to know.

I do know that Will was flabbergasted to receive primary custody but NOT the house. “The house” was the furthest thing from my mind.