My Verbally Abusive Marriage

Most hurtful thing I heard this week:

“I don’t love you, I barely respect you, and I hope the last words you hear me say are Fuck You!”

I love my son. His words did not send me into a tailspin. I didn’t cry because of what he said, I cry because of the example I’ve allowed him to absorb.

It’s not my fault, but it is my problem.
Fortunately, he recognizes his temper and anger problems. He’s willing to get help.

Keep him in your thoughts as we regain our footing in this tumultuous post-abuse recovery.

Demons worry that we will know their names (all the horror movies say so and, actually, my angel says so, too.) Once we name the demon, once we recognize it, it loses its power.

For example, when I admitted to myself that the demon in my marriage was ABUSE (not Will, but ABUSE), the abuse held less power over me. The demon flared up in a fiery attempt to terrify me, yet, after its temper tantrum, I stood strong and continued to call it by name. Will thinks I demonized him, but I think I demonized his behavior.

Will never admitted to Abuse living in our marriage. He still doesn’t. The demon may keep a hold on Will, but it doesn’t confine me.

Once you know the demon’s name, USE it. Continue reading

Last year, I tapered off from this blog because I was afraid of what would come of it in court. Nothing came of it in court. This blog was either irrelevant or the battle didn’t get nasty enough for his attorney to use it.

Or maybe there was nothing to be said about it. Will’s name isn’t here, my name isn’t here. I don’t push this blog onto our children. This blog, like it was always intended to be, is mine and mine alone.

The saddish part about it is that I didn’t recognize that fact. I worried that he would somehow take this piece of me away. Under the heaviness of that fear, I did like I so often did during our marriage: I shut up.

Then, miracle of miracles, new people came into my life. I didn’t know how to mention them on this blog. I didn’t care what Will thought, but I worried about what the new others thought. Continue reading

I am fortunate today because I was able to speak with Vickie Florschuetz, Founder/Artist/Executive Director of The Bravery Project. She is an artist and impassioned about bringing abuse survivor’s stories to the forefront of consciousness. We know that domestic violence exists in multiple forms, but when do we really hear about people who have gotten away from it? Where is the inspiration for those of us deep inside the abusive situation? Where are the facts about what happens to those who make it out (alive)?

The Bravery Project is about revealing the souls of people who were once abused through art and sound. It is about showing the world the kinds of lives PREVIOUSLY abused people live now that they’re free from their confining abuser(s). But maybe most importantly to me, The Bravery Project is about showing those who are currently abused that people just like them do escape abuse and that there is a better life ahead.

I need The Bravery Project’s message right now.

Part of the reason we don’t hear about survivors is that they are ashamed about having been abused. “Why does she stay if it is so bad?” is a diminishing question asked by those who have no understanding of the dynamics of abuse. Yet the thought is implanted in our mind that it is shameful to be abused when the REAL shame is in abusing.

Please visit The Bravery Project and sign up for the newsletter. If you can, please donate and/or volunteer. As Ms. Florschuetz writes, “After all, every survivor has claimed that someone cared enough to help get the resources needed toward permanent freedom. If not you and me, then who?”

It’s late, and I promised myself a more normal schedule, so I’m headed to bed. BUT I also promised myself I’d post daily, so I’m racking my brain for something worthwhile to write.

Worthwhile to whom? you may ask. Well, since “you” may or may not be here at all, I guess I’m looking for something worthwhile to write FOR ME.

I think that I’ll mention two good things. Typically, the “good stuff” isn’t “worthwhile” because I have a bad habit of NOT letting myself be happy about even the tiniest thing. Unless it’s a kitten, pretty sunrise, or some other bit of god’s bounty shared with lil’ ol’ me.

On the whole, anything good that happens TO me doesn’t qualify as a reason to talk, write, or even think about it for very long. I have a history of depriving myself of good moments because there’s always so much that I need to “fix” (read: stuff that isn’t good gets most of my attention).

I’m stalling because I’m concerned over whether “you” will consider these things good or not…. I guess it doesn’t HAVE to matter so much. They gave me moments of peace and joy, so here they are:

I told my husband that I wasn’t going to leave, and he is utterly relieved and overjoyed about it. “I can’t tell you how happy I am about your decision,” he said yesterday. I am kind of in a joyful shock at his reaction. He didn’t say, “You made me happy.” He said that he is happy about my decision. The verbage is not normal for him, and “not normal” is exactly what I’m looking for.

Along with telling him about my decision, I also told him that my staying doesn’t mean that I’m going to go along as usual. I told him that I have a safety plan. I said that I got to decide when/if I felt threatened, and whether he thought I “should” feel threatened or not didn’t matter. I also mentioned that he could expect to continue seeing changes in me and in the way I relate to him and our boys. Anyway, I am not being bossy or “laying down the law.” How he reacts to me and how he honors or dishonors our vows is still on him…I’m done trying to covertly dictate what he should and shouldn’t do. Instead, I’m going to react to his choices in ways that are healthy for me.

I guess that is a two-parter. I’m happy about what he said to me, and I’m proud of myself for the way I told him I was staying.

The second thing I’m happy about is that Marc and I did NOT revert to yelling and screaming at one another today during a conversation that usually would have ended up that way. I’m optimistically hoping that the way I handled a conflict YESTERDAY had an influence on today, and that even though I didn’t go “by the book” yesterday, the method I chose was nonetheless effective.

So, two good things in as many days. I’m not deluding myself that I will always be successful, but I am growing more confident that I am capable of reacting and acting in a healthy manner. I also expect more conflicts to arise with both my husband and my son…but that’s okay. It took us a long time to get HERE, but it doesn’t have to take nearly that long to get better, healthier. I’m willing to suffer setbacks because I know they will offer me the opportunity to fine-tune myself.

It feels weird, explaining why I’m happy instead of why I’m sad. I don’t know if I “like” it, but I think I can get comfortable with it in time. Isn’t that funny? Not knowing if I “like” writing about happy stuff? I guess I’ve spent so much time waiting for the other shoe to drop that I haven’t allowed myself the luxury of happiness.

I think that being happy is harder than being sad. It seems more fleeting and less dependable than heart ache. But I can feel it now, and that is a turn for the better!

I do think it’s remarkable that these two happy situations came to pass just when I needed them most. I think my angels are hard at work to provide me with reason to continue. Thank you, ANGELS!

I think I’m beginning to understand what codependence is all about. I received an email today with the line “And do you sometimes feel that you are wanting a hero to come and rescue you and help you with the more practical aspects of living that might be falling apart? Maybe it’s time for a reality check?”

Hell yeah. That’s what I’m waiting for. God, a dead relative, some divine intervention…even one of the nanny’s from Nanny 911 would work. SOMEONE, anyone, who could fix me is who I want.

Perhaps that’s why I gravitated to Will in the first place. He seemed to have all the answers and all the confidence in the world to go along with them.

As I live in the feeling that I’m not good enough, I’m trying really hard to listen to what I’m thinking.

And what I’m thinking is,

• “The house is a mess, it’s got to be perfect before he gets home or another neighbor comes to visit.”
• “The boys don’t respect me.”
• “I can’t DO this anymore (as if I’ve DONE anything before).”
• “I’ll never figure out how to support myself…too much time has passed for me to be viable to anyone.”
• “I’ll be stuck living in a home that has an explosion around every corner for the rest of my life.”
• “My husband never loved me anyway. Who really could?”
• “Why can’t I pull myself up by my bootstraps and fix this?”
• “Why am I so alone when I know people love me?”
• “What is my incompetence doing to my boys?”
• “How smart is it to put all (or almost all) of my stupid thoughts online for everyone and Will to read? If he’s so damn manipulative, then why do I feel compelled to give him ammunition for an assault?”
• “All I DO is sit around and cry either internally or externally. I try to cover up the pain with stupid television shows and thinking that maybe one day I will be someone real. The only thing I’m accomplishing is wasting time, emotion, energy, thoughts, and the lives of myself and the children I claim to love.”

I’m feeling so shitty; I want to stop feeling. I want to stop thinking. I want to stop.

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?

I am not willing to blame what I don’t like about myself on any abusive relationships I have tolerated during my lifetime. My marriage has been mentally, emotionally and verbally abusive; although that fact is saddening, it is not a “reason” to continue cultivating the bad habits and faults I’ve developed in response to it. It is not okay to stay the way was the day I realized my relationship was abusive. In fact, most of the conflict following that day has been due to my effort to change.

First, I wanted to change my husband. Then, I wanted to change our relationship. Now, I only want to change myself.

I want to change…

• How I take care of myself, physically, mentally, & emotionally (I like the spiritual path I’m on!)
• How I view my “place” in the world, my nation, my community, my family, and my marriage
• My thoughts concerning “what is possible” for me and my family
• My marriage by changing myself into the person I want to be
• My fitness level, my body, and my “look”
• My preconceived ideas about what I “should” be doing and work on what I can do – what I think is best, even when it takes energy I’m not sure I have

In short, there are many many many things I hope to change. And I’m scared.

Yes, I’m scared of change itself, but what I’m really afraid of is that my idea of what my future will look like is not possible. What if some of the people I love don’t want to be with me in the end? What if my “perfect future” doesn’t include everyone that I love? What if I have to let them go in order to be happy? What if I change so much that they don’t love me anymore?

The word “selfish” keeps running around in my mind. I think I’ve been called selfish so often that it’s hard to know when I’m being selfish and when I’m being true to myself.

I’ve got a question for you: Is it abuse if I cut off my teenager mid-sentence and tell him that I don’t want to hear his mouth anymore? See, technically, I believe all people should be heard (even if you don’t agree with them). This extends to my children; I’ve always tried to respect their feelings and hear their opinions.

For the most part, this works very well for me. I’m very close to my boys, and even though they throw (age-appropriate) tantrums that drive me up the wall, both of them always come back to me to talk it through.

But when my teenager starts backtalking and arguing, I just tell him that I don’t want to hear it anymore. Then he throws the tantrum, usually mutters something, and storms off – which is fine with me because when I say that, I really truly DO NOT want to hear it.

My son is driving me crazy

I just realized why I love to write things out, especially when I’m in some emotional turmoil. I answered my own question.

It is inappropriate for my son to backtalk and argue with me because he knows full well that I am willing to have a reasonable conversation with him over ANY subject. [In the past two weeks we've talked about his newly chosen religion, sex and drugs and how he feels about them (SCARY!) without any arguing or fighting. And I didn't lecture - these were conversations. We have them all the time.

What I'm doing is telling him that he's crossing my boundary. He is not allowed to backtalk and argue over some things (chores, house rules, etc.). The rules are mine to set because I'm the parent, and I won't allow his sour mood to dictate the direction of our conversation. If I can learn to hold my tongue, so can he. [And any of you with teenagers know what I'm talking about! LOL]

So. I have a boundary. Yay Me!