My Verbally Abusive Marriage

So…last weekend there was a touching scene between my son and his father on my front porch. There was a hug and Will said ”You look good, son!” Will looked genuinely happy to see Marc, and vise-verse.

Fast forward to today when I, in my brilliance, decide to call Will. I tell him that Marc feels depressed and it is a good time to run over to my house and ask Marc if he’d like to go out and get some sunshine. The scene on the porch encouraged my suggestion.

(La dee da, Kellie hums to herself, I’m doing a good thing for my boy by communicating with my horrible – oops, I mean, Marc’s father, la dee da la dee da!) Hey – don’t knock it. It was a nice fantasy while it lasted. Continue reading

Well, I’ve finally learned my lesson. Amy must leave my home; she is a detriment to my son’s recovery.

Amy’s sweet demeanor helps me to love her. Her abusive past, her uncaring (unfit) parents, her drug addiction and codependent behavior make me want to help her grow strong and healthy.

I want to fix her. I want my codependent nature to work for someone for a change. It is time for me to realize that anytime I try to fix someone or their situation, I only hurt myself and all the other people I love.

I do not think my relationship to Amy was codependent-related in the beginning. I saw a young woman, desperate for a chance to prove herself, begging for an opportunity to flourish. I knew that she could do that in my home, and despite the odds, I gave her that chance. Continue reading

A post I left out of the mix due to the divorce proceedings. This post dates about 6 months into our separation.

June 6, 2010

So the past few weeks with Will have gone pretty smoothly. We’ve had some pretty cool conversations considering what we’re going through and how we’re at odds over SO many aspects of custody and finances. Actually, I don’t know how at odds we are about the finances; we haven’t moved out of the custody phase yet. He refuses to negotiate finances until I agree to his custody demands.

Whatever. Continue reading

I’m on pins and needles waiting to hear back from a treatment center for my son, Marc. I found an inpatient program that allows him to continue his education without withdrawing… He’s 3 credits short of graduation, and the programs I’ve found in this state expect him to withdraw from school to attend.

As for Amy, his girlfriend, I’m having more difficulty. The school officials are working hard to find a placement for her. I cannot do it because I’m not a legal guardian.

(Oh – did I tell you that after her suicide attempt, her parents dropped her off on my doorstep?)

These two kids need help that I am unable to give. Keep us in your prayers as we (me, my friends/family, and the school) look for a door that won’t slam shut in the kids’ faces.

I guess these two aren’t “bad off” enough to qualify for quality care. Marijuana, DXM and alcohol dependence isn’t enough to qualify them for rehab?! Come on, you’ve gotta be kidding me!

These kids have no IDEA what it is going to take to stay drug-free after the initial desire wears thin. They need help, and will need help in the future.

I KNOW that rehab will teach them life skills that their abusive families weren’t able to teach (my family included!).

Prayers, please. Thank you.

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.

A few months after I’d left Will, I had worked through the grief stage and moved into such a euphoric state that I thought it would never end. I thought to myself, “So this is what I’ve been missing all these years!” and with a smile and artsy flourish of my wrist, I chucked my last 11 anti-depressants into the trash.

Here it is, almost a year later, and I feel a familiar numbness settling into my joints, radiating outward. I bet you can see it, murky and olive green, if you look hard enough.

Well, in hindsight, I guess I had a good run.

Over the past year, several good things happened for me: Continue reading

Amanda – A college class started looking into how abuse impacts a life. I related to a lot of the results of abuse and started doing my own research into verbal abuse.

See all abuse testimonials

Emilie - I’m still not sure. I’m 18, it still feels like I’m too much of a child to be in this mess.

*I am impressed with Emilie’s maturity and clear headed-ness. She “knows” but isn’t ready to say the abuse is not in her imagination.

See all abuse testimonials

I’ve been flipping through the web looking at pro-ana (pro-anorexia) sites for school. Sigh. I’ve seen tips on how to binge and purge, how to diet by taking in -1200 net calories for the day, and images of stretched out super-thin and bony women who the photographer seems to idolize.

I’m a firm believer in what you allow into your thoughts comes out into the “real world” eventually. I like the idea of creating our own realities – it’s powerful stuff. I mention that because I really do think that if I looked at these pictures and read these stories for long enough, I could come to empathize with these women and want what they want. They seem to look at not eating as a competition sport, which is kind of how I felt about eating at one time.

When I left Will, I dropped 50 pounds in 4 months from stress alone. I didn’t even notice. One day, none of my “real” clothes fit. I just didn’t eat – wasn’t hungry, didn’t think about food, etc. When I came out of that severe state and looked in the mirror, I truly didn’t recognize myself. My friend and my sister both told me that I looked unhealthy – all I saw was a thin person who other people seemed to admire (the ones who didn’t know me).

I figured I’d continue not eating. Sometimes still, I’ll be hungry and not eat in order to make up for the three tablespoons of sugar I’ve consumed with my morning coffee. I’m not going to look at those sites anymore. They make me nervous.

I know anorexia is unhealthy, but I see how it can begin so innocuously. Rising to a challenge, even an unhealthy one, can help me to stop thinking about the REAL issues in my life. I worry about those women I’ve seen online. I worry about me. I’m not going to put that junk in my head anymore.

If I were married today, Valentine’s Day,

• I wouldn’t have received a bouquet of beautiful flowers from someone who loves me.
• I wouldn’t feel special, precious, or loved.
• I wouldn’t be working, so I wouldn’t have received Valentine’s Day gifts from my Secret Pal.
• I wouldn’t have wonderful people around me every day who appreciate my strengths and help me overcome my weaknesses.
• I wouldn’t feel like showing appreciation for anyone except for my boys.

On the other hand, I would BE with my boys and we would have dinner together as a family, at the table, with candles. Nevertheless, I’m taking dinner to them (heart-shaped pizza!) and will get some lovin’ from them tonight. Then, I’m invited to dinner (he’s cooking!) and a movie, and I’ll be happy and content, hoping that my presence helps the one I’m with feel wonderful too.

Life is good.

I’m so happy that this is not the same Valentine’s Day as last year. This time last year, there was confusion and doubt and I wondered what to call myself. None of that this year. I call myself “loved.”