It's Sunday evening, baby's asleep, and it seems instead of enjoying the evening I'm rehashing the past. So many emotions running through me right now. Pain, hurt, anger, and disapointment to name a few. I'm so angry at him, for lying.. for cheating.. for making my life a living hell. He controlled me for far too long. I'm also angry at myself for putting up with it. How does this happen to someone like me??!! I'm a middle class, well educated, working mother. This wasn't supposed to happen to me. Why did I allow this to happen?? I'm a licensed social worker for crying out loud. I know the signs, I know the profile. Yet, it did happen to me... it still is happening to me.
The trail of domestic violence is a bizarre one for sure. I can remember one afternoon a few years back. It started out like any other day. Husband was home for the weekend from NY. We enjoyed the morning. I was busy planning for the baby. I was 5 months along. I remember I was feeling very hormonal. He was annoyed. He had emotional needs that I was unable to attend to at that moment. We started arguing, although I don't remember what it was over. What I do remember is crying and him standing over me screaming. Then I felt that sting, my ear popped as his hand came down across the side of my head. I remember fighting back, kicking at him as he pushed me back against the couch. He grabbed my hair and hauled me up to my feet. I tried to run but he caught me in the hallway, pushing me so hard I collided with the banister on the stairs. He was still screaming at me. I got to my feet and managed to get upstairs. He chased after me, catching me on the landing. He backhanded me with such force that I went flying into a door, smashed my head, and then fell to the floor. I layed there in a heap, actually thinking that I just wanted to die. He started to walk away. I got up and ran for the bedroom. I knew there was one thing that would stop him. If I could just get to it. I ran and dove for the bed, reaching for his off-duty revolver. I felt it in my hands but then I felt his hands on my arms, squeezing and pulling. For just a brief second I had the gun pointed at him but he overpowered me. I can remember him screaming at me how crazy I was as he took it away. Then he just started laughing. Before walking away, he spit on me and called me a fat c*nt. I layed on the bed for hours in complete numbness.
That is just one example of many that occurred throughout the course of my marriage. Why I say a life with DV is bizarre... is because tonight, as I sit here at my computer, it's not THAT memory that hurts the most. It's not the many other examples I can give you. But it's the memory of him telling me "I don't love you anymore" and finding out that he had been having an affair. It's twisted, totally irrational, and completely ridiculous. How can I hurt more from an affair he had with some dollar store bimbo than from the abuse he put me through? I don't have the answer. It makes no sense to me. But unfortunately, it's how I feel tonight.
Maybe I got used to it. Maybe I really believed that he would change. Maybe I believed I was somehow responsible for making him angry enough to hit me. All of the above are true. A reasonable and prudent person would say he never loved me to begin with if he treated me like that. Even worse, if he had not had an affair or told me he didn't love me anymore, would I still be tolerating his abuse? The answer to that nauseates me... because I know the answer.
So perhaps he did me a favor. The shredded pride is a tough pill to swallow. After putting up with all his bullsh*t, this is my reward. The public embarrassment, the town gossip, and the impending court dates are just as devastating. I pray for some relief. Everyday I get up, get dressed, and head out the door pasting on a fake smile. I can only hope that I have enough strength to survive the court hearings and trial. All the while, I'm silently collecting the pieces of a broken heart, wrapping them up tightly, and tucking them away. I just wish it didn't have to hurt so much. The heartache is more painful than any bruises or welts he ever left.
Ava,
ReplyDeleteOnce again a horrific scene well writen and colorfully described. Your quote, "The heartache is more painful than any bruises or welts he ever left." is a very common feeling.
Painful to realize, seeing what you do for a living. You're still beating yourself up thinking you should have known better and that will continue for a while. You're not alone and you'll need to stop shoulding on yourself at some point. Harder said than done.
I can remember a time dealing with verbal abuse wishing to be punched instead. Being punched, I knew that bruises go away, blood clots, and in time he'll say he's sorry and things will get better again. Excuses like, I fell down the stairs again, I'm so clumsy and not being able to make it to work were common as my abuser would nurse me back to health. One time it took two weeks for the bruises on my face to heal enough for me to be able to cover them with makeup and the dizziness from a concussion to go away. Everyone at work knew. My boss asked me if it was my boyfriend and I denied it. They knew.
I always believed I deserved it. I always thought it was my fault. It was a pattern I was all too used to from growing up with abuse from my father.
The control, the jealousy, the neediness. Compliance was my only option throughout my life. Each time we broke up the pain of losing him was too hard to bear. I was back within less than a day everytime believing I couldn't live without him. Back in the days of busy signals where phones were left off the hook. Hitting the redial button incessantly. He'd threaten my family, my dog. It was insane but I couldn't live without it.
I've told you how it ended. I almost died. This fork in the road very well may have saved your life bt it's not over yet for you. The only comfort I can provide is that you'r not alone and you have outlets to express your feelings either by talking to me, you friend Art, writing this amazing blog, taking care of your precious daughter and knowing she'll never have to witness that lifestyle again.
Have strength Ava. You can do this. Just like the bruises heal and the blood clots; your broken heart will be put back together again once you pick up all the pieces.
Always,
Noel