My Verbally Abusive Marriage

Have you been given bad advice by a member of the clergy? Did you feel blamed for the abuse in your relationship instead of helped? Have you been told to carry the water and serve the one who abused you?

If so, then you know that some clergy must be better educated about the dynamics of abuse.

Doug and Cindy Burrell’s ministry is about to take a giant, positive leap forward. They are speaking at a church about the harm done to abuse victims by clergy attempting to follow “God’s Word” but overlooking key scriptures in support of ending abuse.

Your experience will benefit their ministry and change someone’s life for the better.

If you would like to be a part of the story and positively impact the ways in which the church counsels domestic abuse victims, please contact them via the form at Cindy Burrell’s website, Hurt By Love.

Your anonymity will be protected.

This month, so far, I’ve received three stories from brave women. Two of them speak to financial abuse also, and Sarah has a blog.

These are their stories:

Rose Felt Worthless, Stuck, and Crazy

Laura Felt Devastated, Frustrated, and Shocked

Sarah Felt Betrayed, Sorrow, Brokenhearted (Sarah’s Blog: Sarah Found Her Voice)

On January 22, 2012, it will be two years since I left my marriage. I’ve come so far since then; I did the right thing for my children and myself.

I’m having some “issues” today that I was going to discuss in this entry. But before I did that, I went back and took a look at the two entries that changed the meaning of this blog forever.

Today, I am fortunate to write “My Verbally Abusive Marriage…and what I’m doing in it” from a different perspective. The marriage was abusive, but it no longer exists. What I write now concerns how I’m moving past it and the abuse, and I am joyful that I am no longer “in it”.

On January 22, 2010, I left my home two times. The first time was the (what had become) the usual, run of the mill event: I left because I was scared, planning to return home after his temper had cooled or he had passed out. I took a blanket and my purse.  I left again only minutes after typing the last “Smack” in My Heart is Failing.

When I returned home, all hell broke loose. I ended up calling the police, but I had no showing bruises, so the cops would not remove him from the home (worthless!). I left because I truly feared what would happen after they pulled out of the driveway and left me alone with Will. Continue reading

There are agencies designed to help victims of domestic violence when they’re ready to leave the abusive relationship. Those same agencies may counsel victims of domestic abuse who are not yet ready to leave, but need support and information as they try to salvage their relationships. If you have access to those groups, then please use them. They’re free to you and have their fingers on all the resources available to you in your community.

Nevertheless, some victims of domestic violence do not or cannot access those services. And still others discover that although they’re plugged into community resources, they still feel hopeless, helpless, angry and scared.

I’ve been there. In the end, it boiled down to finding my voice (and drowning out his). I learned how to do it, and I can show you how to do it too.

It won’t take long to deliver the information; in fact, you’ve probably seen it on the free literature in your community. Yet actually taking the time to work through the emotionally draining steps can seem like too much when you’re carrying the weight of your and his worlds on your shoulders. I will help you go through the process safely and as serenely as possible.

I understand your trepidation – this process doesn’t have to end with you leaving your marriage or relationship – you decide when or if you leave that important facet of your life behind. I’ll support you either way.

The fee is $60 for two hours of mentoring via phone. If you’re interested, contact me and I’ll guide you.

Contact Me

How was your Thanksgiving? Mine was great, minus the turkey dinner, minus my kids. I did have my boys with me Thursday morning. We ate strawberry shortcakes and drank coffee. I got them caffeinated and sugared up for the day at their dad’s house! I just can’t figure out why that man doesn’t love me anymore.

Just kidding. I know why he doesn’t love me. He’s found my replacement. I’m thankful for that.

I’m also thankful for the sausage gravy and biscuits, the call from my sister, and, perhaps mostly, Max’s company.

My brain hit the ground running this morning. I tried unsuccessfully to feel the warmth of Max beside me, the soft wind from the fan and the cozy-soft microfiber sheets. But my brain wouldn’t have it. It was like while sleeping, it discovered all the answers and couldn’t wait to put me into action.

Unfortunately, those answers got lost in transitioning from sleeping to waking, and I found myself bombarded with noisy kids, messy house, and the other signs that I wasn’t in control of much at all.

I want to have my peaceful home back, the one that I miraculously found in May of 2010 that enabled me to think to myself without interruption. I miss my safe, silent, cocoon. 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

Once upon a time, there was a young woman who wanted more than anything to find her poet, her love. She imagined long afternoons with him, sitting under shady trees and dining from picnic baskets filled with grapes and sandwiches. When he looked at her, she could see the twinkle in his eyes and knew that he, in return, could see her love for him radiating from her soul.

She imagined him in romantic fantasy and tried to find him in the young men she dated. Sometimes she found signs of him in her beaus; but the young men also held signs contrary to her imagined poet, and the relationships didn’t last long.

Along the way, two of the young men she courted revealed themselves as snakes and injected their poison into her arteries. She made excuses for the snakes and allowed their poison to remain in her system, thinking that eventually it would make its way out if she ignored its potency and effect on her mind and heart. She remained quiet about both of these young men, taking on their poison as her own and allowing it to create a dark spot within her.

That dark spot eventually took on a life of its own. It began to writhe and turn and hiss lies to her. She began doubting her ability to find her poet and to succeed in the world. She feared facing herself in the mirror and felt that what she needed was a knight, not a poet. A knight to protect her at all costs and keep her from further harm.

The dark spot writhing inside of her suggested a man who would intertwine with her heart, who understood her dark, sinful soul, who knew more than she did about identifying the evils of the world. The dark spot’s lies made sense. She sacrificed her desire to see the love-twinkle in her poet’s eye and instead, looked for someone the others would fear.

The Knight

She found her knight and he quickly made her his own. He performed the task she’d set for him admirably; he whisked her away and quickly isolated her from the other poets and knights of this world. He built her a castle far away, allowing her to come and go as she wished at first. Eventually, her freedoms were curtailed as her knight seemed to see her as the dark plague upon his world. He thought that she purposely attracted the others, and said that the dark spot in her soul was evil and uncontrollable. He told her that if she wanted to be happy, he would have to let him protect her in his way.

She believed him. The dark spot in her soul crept into her consciousness. She did not remember that the dark spot inside of her was merely the poison from the others residing inside of her. She came to believe that she created the evil within her by being who she was, and thought that her knight was wise to warn her of her evil nature. She fell deeper into fear and begged her knight to tell her more about her evil nature so she could be free of it. As her knight identified the evil, the dark spot grew large, fed by the knights opinions and thoughts.

Her knight told her she had loose morals and that everyone knew she was a whore. He told her that she lacked common sense and couldn’t see the truth. He told her that the world was black and white and the shades of gray she saw were figments of her imagination, falsely ideal versions of an evil world.

He told her that motherhood would elevate her to a higher plane in his eyes. He told her that by raising his children and staying in the castle that she could learn the truth about the world as he shared his exploits into it.

The Contract

She agreed. She remained in the castle, hidden from the world, and raised children who adored her. The knight, who was constantly out in the world having adventures, would return home and feel jealous of the bond between the young woman and his children.

He told her that he didn’t trust her as a mother. He said that her children were weaker men because of her. He said that she must be like him when disciplining and speaking to her children. He criticized her ability to love his children and told her that if she didn’t understand his way by now then she was forever hopeless. The dark spot within her grew larger as she accepted the knight’s words.

A Death

The day came when she looked at herself in the mirror and didn’t recognize the countenance staring back at her. The dark spot within her hissed an evil laugh. She looked into her past and realized that, once upon a time, she was vibrant and lovable; she longed for that young woman to return. The dark spot laughed again, but this time, she took a hair pick and stabbed it deeply into her center, bright blood spilling onto the floor followed by black bile that writhed and twisted itself into a snake on the floor.

It hissed, “You worthless whore of a mother! You think that by ridding yourself of me that you can live freely? You don’t know what it takes to make it in the world, sheltered as you’ve been!” It tried to slither back into her belly, but she was too quick for it.

She raised her foot and stomped on the snake’s head, crushing its bones beneath her heel and grinding them into mush on the floor. The snake flopped futily for a little while as it realized it’s control over her was ended.

She felt empty and wondered what would replace the dark spot. But she didn’t have to wonder for long. Hearing the commotion, her children ran to her and their love and innocence and courage filled the hole, mending the wound, stopping the bleeding, and fusing life into her soul.

She knew the love they gave her was borrowed; eventually she would have to develop her own way of loving and being. But for now, she could borrow their courage until forging her own. She left the castle prepared to battle with the shadow of the snake she’d killed and vowed to never allow another person’s poison to fill her soul again.

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?”

I received a comment on Facebook recently that said I was amazing and strong (thank you, Amber!). I think I share qualities with every other person in abusive relationships.

• We’re optimistic AND depressed/anxious
• We’re giving.
• We all have a bright light that other people, even our abusers, recognize; the difference is the abuser wants to absorb it all for them self and if they can’t own it, they want it GONE.
• We’re helpful.
• We’re strong. We have to be to withstand the abuse.
• We’re capable of intimacy to the DETRIMENT of our selves within the abusive “relationship” and the benefit to any other.
• We’re intuitive in that we “know” something’s wrong (but maybe haven’t put our finger on what “it” is).

In short, we’re amazing human beings who embody characteristics that any person who doesn’t selfishly want to steal them from us will admire and cherish.

If you look at that list the opposite way, you can see those characteristics how the abuser sees us:

• We’re always living in an idealistic and therefore unrealistic world, we don’t understand how the world works AND we look for sympathy when we should be able to solve our own problems (“get that look off your face!” or “your life is so easy!” or “what’s wrong with you?”… and on and on)
• We’re always too generous, too friendly, too trusting, …
• We’re show-offs, know it alls, drama queens, and holier-than-thou …
• We’re nosy, looking for trouble, flirty, whores …
• We’re weak. We would have to be to rely on him for “everything” and do “nothing” to further ourselves.
• We’re too close to our family, we take other people’s opinions ahead of his, we use poor judgment in relating to friends, we tell too many secrets, we complain too much, …
• We’re always looking for trouble, we wouldn’t know what to do with ourselves if we couldn’t make up some problem, we read into things, we make mountains of molehills and think too much …

The questions with no right answers are:

• When will you decide to reject, completely and utterly, your abuser’s interpretation of you?
• When will you decide that YOU are the best judge of your character and capabilities?
• When will you trust yourself above all others?

No one can answer those questions for you. But when the day comes where your answer is “TODAY”, you will feel the seed of courage germinate and it’s roots will spread to every bit of your being. Continue learning, keep reading other people’s stories, observe, see your truth, and soon the seed of courage WILL spring forth and bloom. You will overcome this mess and you will be free.