Abuse Hides in the Dark. Turn on Your Light.

Even If

Book excerpt from 'My Abusive Marriage...and what I'm doing in it.

Book excerpt from 'My Abusive Marriage...and what I'm doing in it.Individual counseling is today. I don’t know what I’m going to talk to her about. I’m feeling rather foggy.

Disappointed and pessimistic, too, in regard to my husband and my marriage. I keep hoping beyond all hope that there is the possibility of having a happy marriage in which both of us get to be who we are. But more than that, I want each of us to support one another in our quest to be more than we are right now.

Will keeps drinking and disappearing. He doesn’t talk to me, doesn’t like me, doesn’t want to be around me. I completely understand his feelings because I feel the same prickly heat toward him. The trouble is that one of us is going to have to overcome those feelings if we are going to reconnect.

One of us has to be the bigger man.

Frankly, I want him to be the bigger man. Although he says he’s suffered much during our marriage, I can’t help but wonder “HOW?”

I follow his career. I stay home like he asked (glad I did, but wondering if it wasn’t designed to keep me helpless in his mind). I forfeited my 4-year degree but fought for my associates with no support from him. I live in “his” house and drive the car he graciously supplied to me. I manage “his” money, clean “his” clothes, and generally live in “his” home (which I am allowed to decorate).

But asking him to explain how he has suffered is not going to work at individual counseling. He won’t be there. If I talk about it, it’ll be my own feelings about how he treats me, and I am drained from thinking about those feelings.

It is what it is.

I could talk to my therapist about the book I’m writing (and excited about). I would like for her to ask to read it and then spend the hour telling me how brilliant I am. My old self would expect that, and when it doesn’t happen (which it won’t), my old self would stop writing, and blame my lousy husband for clouding my life with bullshit so thick I cannot move.

But I’m not going to do that. Ever again.

I do feel oppressed; I know that is what abuse and control can do to a person. I am forcing myself to write this story EVEN IF no one who reads it loves it as much as I do. I am going to write this book even when my inner voices tell me it’s crap. And when I’m done writing it, I’m going to submit it to publisher after publisher until I find one who is at least half of excited about the manuscript as I am.

And then this book is going to make that publisher a lot of money.

But in the process of writing this book, I’m probably going to live with a man who despises me and wants me to apologize for making a police report against him and then grovel at his feet and swear that I’ll never do it again, no matter what he does, because his career cannot handle another bullshit drama queen antic like the one I pulled last December.

He’s going to ambush me with mind games, withdraw sullenly then come out fighting, attempt to provoke me and drink like a fish so he can say he doesn’t remember any of it.

Despite him, I will succeed in accomplishing the telling of this story running about in my head. And I am very excited about that promise to myself. I don’t think I’ve ever made a promise to myself that I knew, without a doubt, I would keep.

I’ll talk to my therapist about skills I may need to keep promises to myself. She may not be excited about my book, but she does love to help me set off in the right direction, and I appreciate her for that solidity and support.