Sunday, October 23, 2011
lovewins
I am struggling to come out on the other end of an abusive marriage. I love my husband, but love should not hurt, and his does, more often than not. We have a beautiful 5 year old son, who deserves to witness real love in a family; otherwise he may grow up being abusive or being abused. You never know which parent they may mimic in adulthood. I want to share my experiences and hope and reality with others who need help to find strength and healing and a life without this kind of emotional, spiritual, and physical pain. Everyone MATTERS. Everyone DESERVES to give and receive love. I matter. You matter. Your children--if you have them--matter. Let's make our experiences those we choose to have, not live a life of silence and suffering.
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Yesterday was harder than normal. I shouldn't keep looking on FaceBook. I know better, right? But I keep hoping some miracle will have my husband suddenly posting a picture of us together, of our family, to show that he really loves me, asking me to come back, let's work this out. He called me after midnight a couple weeks ago. I was asleep. No message. Right before he hurt me this last time he'd posted a local artist's u-tube rap called "Letter to my Son." It was vile and hateful: he said he loved me and wanted to work things out all along, but the video was another view altogether: "bitch move on, I don't love you no more," "baby momma low down," "I thought I loved her when I shouldn't've even liked her...I shouldn't've even piped her" talking about how the court ordered --just like our situation--only supervised visitations for the man, just cos' some drugs...and "Fuck child support! Bitch take me to trial!!!" When I listened to the whole thing, the end parts that held the above words, ended in "I wanted put my prowls in her." I was so shaken, deeply. In my spirit, unnerved. This is how he really feels. This is what he thinks about the child support he isn't paying. I'm "bitch low down" and he wants to cut me??? I sobbed, my hands were shaking. I couldn't speak to him initially, I finally did, I told him I was unnerved and horrified at what he posted. Jesus, everyone he knows must be laughing at me, his family, especially Mom and sister, the "bitch got hers" good job Scotty, for everyone to see! Except that's not me, at all. I am not "out to get him," I'm trying to keep my self and son safe. Song turned out prophetic in the end. I didn't tell him my dad went in the hospital; my dad didn't want him to know he wasn't at home where our son and I moved. When I finally told him that my dad didn't want him there if Dad wasn't there, "just in case you might do something..." Instead of saying "Oh, baby, I'd never ever hurt you. Tell him I won't do that anymore," his actual words were, "Like your sick dad could stop me if he were there!" A laugh. Then Labor Day, he hike-jacks me mid stride on the stairs, gripping my left wrist and twisting up my arm as I pleaded, "Oh! Scott you are hurting me! Let me go, what are you DOING!!?? He gripped my wrist tighter still higher and back behind me, a sharp pain shooting from my wrist into my shoulder and neck--"Let me go, ow, please let me go???" Our 5 yr old son turned upward on the stairs just in front of me to see Scott thrusting his hands roughly into my front pockets still pinning my arm up, snapping, "What did you take? What do you have !!!??? What did you take???!!" "Nothing," I cried. He roughly released me with a shove forward, causing me to land my left foot twisted on the stair hard, nearly toppling our son, as Scott raced back down the hall searching wildly, throwing open and closing drawers. I hurried Everett out the door, "It's time for us to go now Everett, get your things." "What's wrong with Daddy, why did he hurt you?" "Just let's get in the car, it's time to go," as we went outside. Scott came out to follow as I started to shut my door. He just stared at me, a bizarre look that is stripped of any compassion or remorse...just a look like hatred, disgust. "I can't believe you did that. What the hell is wrong with you?" "You were rifling through my stuff!" "You told me I could look through anything, at anytime, that you had nothing to hide. But that's not the case at all, is it? There is obviously something you ARE hiding that is well worth tearing up my arm to keep a secret. Nothing's changed: you will still hurt me to protect most anything more valuable than me!" We left.
ReplyDeleteToday was worse!! My husband posted an Adele song link on my FB page, the "I was hoping that you'd see me and know that I am not over you. Nothing compares..." It was ironic that I considered posting that same song, with that EXACT same verse describing how I felt. So I replied to him, saying just that, and that I believe we should talk to a psychologist who's swell-versed in domestic violence, if he feels like the song proposes, that he wants us to work it out. But...nothing. He deleted my reply to him, then replied to 2 other girls saying they like his post. One he gave a friendly, "Love you!" I then read the "more" part of the link that added some lines about me being replaceable. I couldn't get through the parking lot to my car quick enough to sob so broken by him playing such a game. I texted him how I am such an idiot for thinking he meant he loved me or wanted me, because he doesn't. I begged God again, via text, that if my husband would not love me, to please help me stop loving him. That if he doesn't want me, please God make me not want him anymore. I am such a fool.
ReplyDeleteMy counselor says the first 100 days are the hardest once leaving an abusive situation. Three different people through my counselor's office and support group, all said<"whatever you do, do NOT contact him. He will turn any contact into further abuse. And indeed... They were right. I feel blown up into a million pieces of nothing. It hurts so bad. It's so obvious he intentionally hurts me.
My counselor, and the book I've been reading, both say to figure out connection, why, with all the mean and hurtful things he continuously did to me, why do I want him, how could I love him. But I do. And that's a big reason I'm in domestic violence counseling. Because I am afraid to go back to him, to live with him ever again, to be enmeshed in a home without any support from family or friends, waking up to his disinterest, leaving for E's school drop off and my work, feeling dejected from his rejection, whether in not touching me--at ALL, not just sexually--or another small but venomous attacked on most anything I do or not do. Because Everett will learn that, HAS LEARNED THAT--Christ, he was at his little girl-friend's, and driving them to Chuck E. Cheese (when does that get old for these kids??) his 4 year old girl-friend answers to something I said about what they did when I brought another truck load of stuff over, she says matter-of-factly, "and then Everett was beating me up. "Beating you up, like, in a race up the stairs?" I feared the worst, and she confirmed it, "No, when he was beating me up, hitting me. We were both slapping each other."
This is so hard. How can I hear this, know what happened repeatedly whereby I or E gets hurt, and still want to love him forever, to be married, and to make this all work out, just a small little miracle, God...
I attended a vigil tonight for the victims of domestic violence. It was tearful and scary to hear the statistics, and know you could be that person no longer with us in life. Because someone gets caught up in the angry moment, and hits yo just a little to hard, or in just the right place. Their theme this year is "Behind closed doors. I'll have to post a pic. I don't want to end up like that, nor do I want Everett to "beat up his friends" or get beat up. I don't want my husband to alienate me anymore.
ReplyDeleteThe police always ask if you don't call them via 911 to your home when it happens-- with a child who could be frightened of the light, sounds,pounding on the door, neighborhood awakened-- when it happens...The police always ask why you didn't call 911. Every time since the restraining order, I just got out. I got our son, got belongings after he went off to work, and GOT OUT. Away. Safe... That's what I thought so loud in my head with our son next to me in my parents' spare bedroom, one of the first times: SAFE. And then I cried quietly with my hand on my sleeping toddler's back. They ask why you didn't file charges immediately. But there are things to attend to first. Getting out. Breathing. Trying to get your head and heart straight as to the very surreal feeling being abused brings over you. And there are the consequences. The consequences of reporting that he struck me across my jaw when I leaned over to kiss him. The consequences of reporting that he terrified our son and me. The consequences of reporting that he threw me into a wall twice to save his drug paraphernalia. Consequences of reporting he gripped my arm up behind my body holding me in place while he roughly searched me for finding something I didn't actually find. And consequences for reporting the sprained ankle and nerve damage that make me walk with a limp still. If you are a woman who has ever been caught up in verbal, emotional, physical, and spiritual abuse...then you will know that one of the worst consequences you can think of, sickeningly enough in the face of damage to our mind, heart and bodies...the worst consequence you can think of is that he will never love you again if you report it. He will punish you somehow. You've handled that before. But he will never love you again. Oh, there's a chance, right, that he will get it this time, that he'll get that he is hurting you, get that this is so very wrong, right? And then he will be so very sorry, and he will see how you stuck with him through it all to GET BACK THAT LOVE you just KNOW is STILL IN THERE...right? This time when the police officer asked me why I didn't call them, and why I didn't report it immediately, I realized that consequence of all hope is lost...as I said from sad, sad eyes, "He said if I ever did this again, it would be over. He said that if I called the cops, if I filed a report...that it would be over." And I didn't want it to be over...But in the end there's nothing there... I just kept praying God would fix this, God would open his eyes to me, to our son...And see the enduring, faithful, tragic love I have for him... And he would finally understand, and realize--and NEVER DO THIS AGAIN. I sit here in pain, my foot and ankle are still throbbing, almost 2 months later, my head knows it has to be over. But the heart. The heart is a tricky, tricky, monster of a thing...it still begs God to make him see the light and come back to our family whole again. My heart, it screws me up, huh. God save us all. Julia
ReplyDeleteMy husband's latest song post, a song we considered ours, Robin Thicke, "I'm Lost Without You" lyrics. "Baby you're the perfect shape, Baby you're the perfect weight, Treat me like my birthday, I want it this way, I want it that way, I want it, Tell me you don't want me to stop (don't stop), Tell me it would break your heart, That you love me and all my dirty, you wanna roll with me, you wanna hold with me...Lost without you.."
ReplyDeleteMy counselor gave me a long report on this type of behavior, when the man you love is your abuser and posts songs with mutual meaning, intimate meaning, missing you, wanting you, loving you..." That they could say all that and more, all the while being with another girl, all the while just to keep you wanting them and hooked in, while they don't really care. It's just to keep you from making any choices for yourself. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting for that moment when it's real, that he has that epiphany, and love begins again. Waiting........ Julia
My foot is killing me, throbbing, burning. Yesterday the orthopaedic doctors reexamined my foot and ankle, still hurts so bad, limping, which causes my hips to go into bursitis, so then I have to where an SI lock. By the time I left, they'd strapped an immobilizing foot/ankle pneumatic brace on my poor injured paw, and used three long needles to inject deep cortisone into the shoulder joint/trigger point. He said both the foot and shoulder were swollen, my foot gets hot, too. More money out of pocket, more time off work, and pain. It might've taken a quick moment or two when He hurt me, but it's certainly enduring. And I say, "Yeh the man who I love...HURTS ME"
ReplyDelete