H-
The systematic way you turned me into a person that couldn't fight back, disgusts me. The fact that you turned my life into a life only lived for you angers me. If a stranger had done the things to me that you have done they would be in prison. Or at the very least shunned by society. The thought of you walking in the world laughing and smiling makes me vomit. The scariest thing to me is that our children , beautiful and innocent, share your DNA. The fiction that runs through your brain every second of every day is laughable. If someone was raped in a dark alley, they certainly wouldn't be expected to be pleasant to there rapist at trial. To calmy work out custody issues, and be accommodating. There is a part of me dark, and heavy like stone, that will never recover, never fully trust anyone again. But there is a part of me that grows stronger everyday that whirls and twirls like a top, spinning , spinning and is about to shatter the illusion of you. I realize now, despite your best efforts, it didn't work, I am not broken. I was in a dream, full of false beliefs, false hopes and a false sense of who I was. I am awake, and what I see when I look at you is a disgusting human being, who I know in my heart is capable of anything.
Anything , but destroying me.
Showing posts with label domestic violence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label domestic violence. Show all posts
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Anger
I am an angry person. Sometimes it consumes me.I can feel it building in my stomach , and it oozes out of my pores. My anger creates an invisible ,but palpable energy field around me.My children might not see it with their eyes but they know when my " shields " are up. This is the thing I am most ashamed of. When my mood swings this way , my kids literally say " Have you been talking to Dad? Please don't talk to him." They used to try to hide my phone.When it is at it's worst , I yell at my kids. Completely rage. I look for things wrong so I have something to scream about. Unfortunately, I cant blame everything on H. I am responsible for my actions.
The reason I get so angry isn't because of the place I 'm at in my life. I will be okay, my kids will be okay. I feel denied of the anger I should of had then. When I was in a ball on the floor after H abused me, when I was crying at Wal-Mart because of H's cruelty. It keeps coming up and has no where to go. It hits me at the strangest times. One day I was at a jewelery store to see if they could fix some old earrings .It happened to be Wedding Day Jewelers. There was a man there who was very excited to propose to his future wife.I looked around, surrounded by wedding rings. My whole body felt sick, I had a sudden desire to just get OUT of there. When I got to my car I was shaking. It meant so much to me to be married, it was my whole life.The combination of H never asking me to marry him( he said , "If you still want to get married, okay" and shrugged his shoulders) the fact we had to sell my wedding ring because we needed the money and the reality that my marriage is really over was too much. At first I thought I was sad. And then I realized I was angry.
H does not appreciate my anger. He feels I need to get over it. He feels he gave me a great life that I never appreciated. Recently I have expressed my frustration about his parenting. In my opinion he treats our children like toys. When he wants to play with them, they should be there. When he doesn't feel like playing they should be on the shelf , sitting quietly. His job, friends and girlfriends have always come before the needs of my kids. The first year we were broken up he didn't give them one bath, or wash their clothes one time. Now he has decided he want to be a good father. I am concerned it won't last. We were arguing the other day and I said some things I shouldn't have Not because they were wrong, because they just don't matter any more. I said he always chose work over our family. He said his work gave us a great life in NC and I enjoyed the fruits of his labor. Great Life? I Enjoyed? H was so controlling with every penny. I didn't grocery shop by myself, I didn't pick out my own clothes. He would brag to people that I could buy whatever I wanted, that he wasn't controlling. Technically he was right. I had the physical ability to buy things. But emotionally, the repercussions were usually enough to keep me in line. I guess not having any freedom and getting beaten up are his ideas of a great life.
It is this disconnect that makes me angry. H's accounts of the past, - yes he abused me, but he has apologized.What do I want his blood? No he shouldn't of hurt me, but I have hurt him too. I had everything I ever wanted ( not sure why he thinks that , since he never asked me what I wanted!) why am I complaining. The truth is when we lost all our money and H's business wasn't successful, I actually thought it would humble him. I actually thought maybe he would come back to earth. He didn't . I am angry. I am angry at H. I am angry at myself.
I know how to fix it. Quit trying to get something from H that he can't give me. He will never justify my feelings.
But I finally realize that doesn't mean they're not justified.
I don't want to be angry any more. It is eating me alive. I think I am waiting for something. Permission maybe? Permission to be happy, to let go. Maybe ,I feel like if I let it go what happened won't matter. I feel like a crime was committed and no one got punished. Like I'm standing on a street corner screaming " That man stole my purse, that man stole my purse! " and every one walks on by.Not only walks by , but pats the man on the back. I want him punished. But I am really just punishing myself.
The reason I get so angry isn't because of the place I 'm at in my life. I will be okay, my kids will be okay. I feel denied of the anger I should of had then. When I was in a ball on the floor after H abused me, when I was crying at Wal-Mart because of H's cruelty. It keeps coming up and has no where to go. It hits me at the strangest times. One day I was at a jewelery store to see if they could fix some old earrings .It happened to be Wedding Day Jewelers. There was a man there who was very excited to propose to his future wife.I looked around, surrounded by wedding rings. My whole body felt sick, I had a sudden desire to just get OUT of there. When I got to my car I was shaking. It meant so much to me to be married, it was my whole life.The combination of H never asking me to marry him( he said , "If you still want to get married, okay" and shrugged his shoulders) the fact we had to sell my wedding ring because we needed the money and the reality that my marriage is really over was too much. At first I thought I was sad. And then I realized I was angry.
H does not appreciate my anger. He feels I need to get over it. He feels he gave me a great life that I never appreciated. Recently I have expressed my frustration about his parenting. In my opinion he treats our children like toys. When he wants to play with them, they should be there. When he doesn't feel like playing they should be on the shelf , sitting quietly. His job, friends and girlfriends have always come before the needs of my kids. The first year we were broken up he didn't give them one bath, or wash their clothes one time. Now he has decided he want to be a good father. I am concerned it won't last. We were arguing the other day and I said some things I shouldn't have Not because they were wrong, because they just don't matter any more. I said he always chose work over our family. He said his work gave us a great life in NC and I enjoyed the fruits of his labor. Great Life? I Enjoyed? H was so controlling with every penny. I didn't grocery shop by myself, I didn't pick out my own clothes. He would brag to people that I could buy whatever I wanted, that he wasn't controlling. Technically he was right. I had the physical ability to buy things. But emotionally, the repercussions were usually enough to keep me in line. I guess not having any freedom and getting beaten up are his ideas of a great life.
It is this disconnect that makes me angry. H's accounts of the past, - yes he abused me, but he has apologized.What do I want his blood? No he shouldn't of hurt me, but I have hurt him too. I had everything I ever wanted ( not sure why he thinks that , since he never asked me what I wanted!) why am I complaining. The truth is when we lost all our money and H's business wasn't successful, I actually thought it would humble him. I actually thought maybe he would come back to earth. He didn't . I am angry. I am angry at H. I am angry at myself.
I know how to fix it. Quit trying to get something from H that he can't give me. He will never justify my feelings.
But I finally realize that doesn't mean they're not justified.
I don't want to be angry any more. It is eating me alive. I think I am waiting for something. Permission maybe? Permission to be happy, to let go. Maybe ,I feel like if I let it go what happened won't matter. I feel like a crime was committed and no one got punished. Like I'm standing on a street corner screaming " That man stole my purse, that man stole my purse! " and every one walks on by.Not only walks by , but pats the man on the back. I want him punished. But I am really just punishing myself.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Fetal Position
Compared to alot of women, I had it pretty good. I never had black eyes, I never had broken bones. The ambulance never took me away. My husband is about 6'3 , 240 lbs. I am about 5'3 , 120 lbs. He liked to kick.He liked to throw. He never punched me. Maybe that's part of the reason I wasn't sure I was being abused .Long before there were bruises, there was pushing and shoving. And truth be told, at the beginning of our relationship I pushed him too. I would slam doors, I would slap him when he wouldn't let go of me. One day it occurred to me I should stop. I remember thinking that if the situation ever escalated, because on some level I knew it would, I wanted a clear conscience. I wanted to be able to say " I didn't touch him." And almost on cue, that's when the first real incidence happened. In a hotel , after a friends wedding. We were walking to our hotel from the bar arm in arm and laughing, but H was strange all night and I was scared.We said good bye to our friends , and H seemed okay. At least to anyone but me. An old friend from high school had said he had a crush on me 15 years before. Once inside the hotel room , things got ugly quick. I remember H saying " Why would he have a crush on you? No one would have a crush on you, He was just making his girlfriend jealous".
I was nervous to go to the wedding to begin with. It was H's friends, not mine. Young Chiropractors who thought they were important. They were all doing very well financially. They all knew I used to work at McDonald's and never let me forget it. H and I had recently had our first son. I gained alot of weight during the pregnancy, and worked extremely hard to lose it before the wedding. The attention I received was nice for me, not so nice for H.
First move , grab me by the arms , squeeze like a python and shake.His first move turned out to be very consistent over the years. If you ever see a woman with bruises on her upper arm, I would worry. Its a strange place to have a bruise unless someone put it there.Second move, throw me. Off the bed, on the bed, into a dresser. Once I would land somewhere I would curl up in a ball .I would try to cover my face , and protect my head. The first time this happened, I thought once he saw me cowering in a ball on the floor he would stop. Instead of stopping , my back became a target. For his foot.Again and again. I of course was crying and screaming " Please stop, Please stop!" And of course ,I was begging for forgiveness. " I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Sometimes I would stay in the fetal position for a long time, waiting for him to cool down. Sometimes he would pick me up while I was still in that position and move me to the bed. I felt like a turtle, safe inside my own little world. My shirt was usually soaked with tears, snot and wetness all over. My hair matted to my red and puffy face.Sometimes , he would try to unravel me, but I would stay stiff like a statue. And when it was over, it really had just begun. The sex to prove I loved him. The coldness for days because I had hurt his feelings. After the first time, we had a two hour drive back home. I cried the whole way, begging him to forgive me, I don't remember what for. It was summer in NC ,short sleeve weather. My mind was racing, how would I do this?? I remember being so thankful I had brought a long sleeve sweatshirt . It would cover the bruises on my arms.The bruises on my back no one would see, I just wouldn't go swimming. There was a babysitter at home, and I remember being almost happy . Happy and proud that no one would know. Proud of the fact we had a secret between us. I felt I had accomplished something when the baby sitter had asked why I had a sweatshirt on and I simply told her I had been chilled in the air conditioning. See ,,, I could be a good wife. I became a liar that day. And I stayed a liar for a long , long time.
Some years later I needed to have a spinal tap. "Fetal position please. " the Doctor said. My body knew what to do. Brace , hang on, it would soon be over. I still can't get in that position without shaking. They thought I might have MS , or a brain tumor. But seriously the most traumatic thing I went through that day was the position I was in. Lying there , still and waiting for the pain. Too much. The scariest thing H ever did to me was the day the fetal position didn't work anymore. And he said " No, your not hiding your face from me. " I had fingerprints on my neck and jaw from where he grabbed me.
Funny, no one noticed.
I was nervous to go to the wedding to begin with. It was H's friends, not mine. Young Chiropractors who thought they were important. They were all doing very well financially. They all knew I used to work at McDonald's and never let me forget it. H and I had recently had our first son. I gained alot of weight during the pregnancy, and worked extremely hard to lose it before the wedding. The attention I received was nice for me, not so nice for H.
First move , grab me by the arms , squeeze like a python and shake.His first move turned out to be very consistent over the years. If you ever see a woman with bruises on her upper arm, I would worry. Its a strange place to have a bruise unless someone put it there.Second move, throw me. Off the bed, on the bed, into a dresser. Once I would land somewhere I would curl up in a ball .I would try to cover my face , and protect my head. The first time this happened, I thought once he saw me cowering in a ball on the floor he would stop. Instead of stopping , my back became a target. For his foot.Again and again. I of course was crying and screaming " Please stop, Please stop!" And of course ,I was begging for forgiveness. " I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Sometimes I would stay in the fetal position for a long time, waiting for him to cool down. Sometimes he would pick me up while I was still in that position and move me to the bed. I felt like a turtle, safe inside my own little world. My shirt was usually soaked with tears, snot and wetness all over. My hair matted to my red and puffy face.Sometimes , he would try to unravel me, but I would stay stiff like a statue. And when it was over, it really had just begun. The sex to prove I loved him. The coldness for days because I had hurt his feelings. After the first time, we had a two hour drive back home. I cried the whole way, begging him to forgive me, I don't remember what for. It was summer in NC ,short sleeve weather. My mind was racing, how would I do this?? I remember being so thankful I had brought a long sleeve sweatshirt . It would cover the bruises on my arms.The bruises on my back no one would see, I just wouldn't go swimming. There was a babysitter at home, and I remember being almost happy . Happy and proud that no one would know. Proud of the fact we had a secret between us. I felt I had accomplished something when the baby sitter had asked why I had a sweatshirt on and I simply told her I had been chilled in the air conditioning. See ,,, I could be a good wife. I became a liar that day. And I stayed a liar for a long , long time.
Some years later I needed to have a spinal tap. "Fetal position please. " the Doctor said. My body knew what to do. Brace , hang on, it would soon be over. I still can't get in that position without shaking. They thought I might have MS , or a brain tumor. But seriously the most traumatic thing I went through that day was the position I was in. Lying there , still and waiting for the pain. Too much. The scariest thing H ever did to me was the day the fetal position didn't work anymore. And he said " No, your not hiding your face from me. " I had fingerprints on my neck and jaw from where he grabbed me.
Funny, no one noticed.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Abused? Who me
Domestic Violence. Abuse. Wife Beater. What do these words mean? The media likes to portray these things as a man in a dirty t-shirt, drinking beer and complaining about his supper. Everyone cowers around him. Or as a handsome control freak, checking the order of canned food and hand towels. Very rarely , if ever , have I seen an abusive relationship seem normal from the outside.On TV and the movies the bad guy is pretty easy to spot.
My children ran into there fathers arms. We had dinner parties. People laughed at his jokes. Women would comment on how wonderful H was. Someone actually said to me once, " If you two ever get divorced , theres no hope for anyone!" . I think she meant we were so happy, so in love, she couldnt imagine it not lasting forever. I was so attached to the public perception of "us" that I honestly did not think I was being abused. It didn't occur to me. AT ALL. Even after I was beaten dozens of times. I also thought I knew what a "wife beater " was. He didnt look any thing like my husband. People liked my husband.If what my husband was doing was so bad, people wouldnt like him , right?
Even though most people had no idea what was really happening, some people had a clue. Some people had more than a clue. H beat me once at my sisters house. I thought my arm was broken. She promptly gave me an ice pack, but said nothing. She did not call the police. She did not ask me any questions. H told me on the way home that my brother in law , pulled him a side and said, " I understand, I know how those Thompson girls are." Now to the defense of my brother -in -law, H lies alot. Even if that wasnt what was said, the fact that they did nothing put there stamp of approval on what happened. There stamp of approval gave H more power than ever. That little part of him that knew it was wrong was gone. That little part of me that had any hope that I would get help, was also gone.
After this incident , I really felt like I wasnt a person anymore. I felt like a dog that had misbehaved. H beat me on and off for 10 years. It wasnt until he got arrested that I realized what he was doing was wrong. He got arrested because he beat me at a New Years Eve party in front of my neighbors, who called the police. Yes, INFRONT of my neighbors. When he went to jail , it was shocking to me. Shocking.I can only imagine the look on my face when the police officer told me they took him to jail . I almost asked what for. I am an intelligent person, I come from a good family, and I had no idea. It is amazing to me now how far away from myself I was. Once he got arrested the police become involved and they have people who suggest counseling etc.. I thought " what for?" I did NOT want to label myself that way. The media does not portray victims of domestic violence that great either. ( Even though I look alot like Julia Roberts LOL!) I did not want to be perceived as weak, or stupid, and I couldn't bear to hear " why didn't you just leave?"
More to come soon,,,,
My children ran into there fathers arms. We had dinner parties. People laughed at his jokes. Women would comment on how wonderful H was. Someone actually said to me once, " If you two ever get divorced , theres no hope for anyone!" . I think she meant we were so happy, so in love, she couldnt imagine it not lasting forever. I was so attached to the public perception of "us" that I honestly did not think I was being abused. It didn't occur to me. AT ALL. Even after I was beaten dozens of times. I also thought I knew what a "wife beater " was. He didnt look any thing like my husband. People liked my husband.If what my husband was doing was so bad, people wouldnt like him , right?
Even though most people had no idea what was really happening, some people had a clue. Some people had more than a clue. H beat me once at my sisters house. I thought my arm was broken. She promptly gave me an ice pack, but said nothing. She did not call the police. She did not ask me any questions. H told me on the way home that my brother in law , pulled him a side and said, " I understand, I know how those Thompson girls are." Now to the defense of my brother -in -law, H lies alot. Even if that wasnt what was said, the fact that they did nothing put there stamp of approval on what happened. There stamp of approval gave H more power than ever. That little part of him that knew it was wrong was gone. That little part of me that had any hope that I would get help, was also gone.
After this incident , I really felt like I wasnt a person anymore. I felt like a dog that had misbehaved. H beat me on and off for 10 years. It wasnt until he got arrested that I realized what he was doing was wrong. He got arrested because he beat me at a New Years Eve party in front of my neighbors, who called the police. Yes, INFRONT of my neighbors. When he went to jail , it was shocking to me. Shocking.I can only imagine the look on my face when the police officer told me they took him to jail . I almost asked what for. I am an intelligent person, I come from a good family, and I had no idea. It is amazing to me now how far away from myself I was. Once he got arrested the police become involved and they have people who suggest counseling etc.. I thought " what for?" I did NOT want to label myself that way. The media does not portray victims of domestic violence that great either. ( Even though I look alot like Julia Roberts LOL!) I did not want to be perceived as weak, or stupid, and I couldn't bear to hear " why didn't you just leave?"
More to come soon,,,,
Monday, January 17, 2011
Someone to love, Something to do, and Something to hope for
I heard this saying , or some version of it somewhere and it really struck me. Everyone should have someone to love, something to do, and something to hope for.
Someone to love- Yes, I have my children. Yes , I have my family and friends. Dont get me wrong, without my children and my family and friends I honestly would not be here. I would be dead, by my hand or someone elses. Or in a mental institution, by my hand or someone elses! A partner in life, a love , someone who holds me when I cry, someone who makes my cheeks red when they look at me, I do not have. Life is too scary and messy , and wonderful and beautiful not to share. Now the complicated part,,, when will I be ready to look for this other person? How will I ever trust another person? Peoples advice to me...Dont date, your not ready... date but only casually.. hang out with your women friends. People in my life are scared for me. People in my life cant go through any of this again.
I am acutely aware how elusive love is for everyone.That even under the best circumstances people can be lonely.I am also acutely aware just how much I want it. How much I want to receive and give unconditional love. I would be good at it. I can be your best cheerleader. It is another thing H took away. Not only my love, my ability to hope for love. For all you neysayers out there who will tell me
" Dont let him take it away,,, you can choose to feel differently, it is not what happened to you , but how you handle it that counts.." He took it away. He did. If someone steals your wallet, it doesnt matter how you feel about it, its still gone.
Something to do - I was a stay at home mom for 12 years. I need a job. There was a time in my life along time ago when I was passionate about my job. I was a manager at McDonalds, and I loved it. I worked 60 hours a week , happily! Getting performance reviews was the best part of my year. Now I dont know what to do. If there was a magic fairy that told me I could have any job I wanted, I wouldnt know what to pick. Years of being told I made the wrong decisions has left me paralyzed. This is another thing I want people to understand, just because I havent been hit in 3 years, doesnt mean I dont struggle daily. Raising my kids is a gift that I am thankful for, it is not the same as completing a hard day of work and feeling like you did a good job.
Something to hope for- Jonathan ( my 19 year old) asked me one day what I was excited about. It was after some thought that I said "nothing." He wondered if I was excited to move into our new house. I said "no, not really, I'm sad." The house I currently am living in has gotten foreclosed on. My father bought me a house near by that I will rent from him, and hopefully buy from him someday. I am very fortunate . The best I can hope for is to try to take care of my kids, pay my bills and live my life in peace. I guess that is something.
I have been told this blog isnt very inspiring, and needs some kind of happy ending. Some kind of lesson. The lesson is this, abuse is far reaching and the effects are devastating. I am not going to pretend to be okay for other people. I am not okay. I am mad , I am bitter and I am dissapointed. Not only with H but with alot of other people. The lesson is also this, do not assume what people are going through. Ask. One thing almost no one did was ask me what it felt like to live with H. They assumed the violence was the worst of it, and once that was over , so were my problems. I did not tell the truth for years, about my life, my relationship , myself. I refuse to be " happy" or " over it" because it would make other people feel more comfortable. That is how I got into this situation .
To end on a lighter note however..,,,, I actually am feeling better, lighter, and even occasionally happy. I dont cry every day anymore. I laugh more, I even dance with my kids (when they let me! they do not approve of my dance moves!) I have realized how incredibly lucky and blessed I am , for alot of reasons...So maybe one day I can write an inspiring blog.... Like a phoenix rising out of the ashes....
Just kidding , I DESPISE that analogy......Im not a phoenix and my life isnt in ashes.......maybe a swan..... I guess I will figure it out,,,,,,,,,
Someone to love- Yes, I have my children. Yes , I have my family and friends. Dont get me wrong, without my children and my family and friends I honestly would not be here. I would be dead, by my hand or someone elses. Or in a mental institution, by my hand or someone elses! A partner in life, a love , someone who holds me when I cry, someone who makes my cheeks red when they look at me, I do not have. Life is too scary and messy , and wonderful and beautiful not to share. Now the complicated part,,, when will I be ready to look for this other person? How will I ever trust another person? Peoples advice to me...Dont date, your not ready... date but only casually.. hang out with your women friends. People in my life are scared for me. People in my life cant go through any of this again.
I am acutely aware how elusive love is for everyone.That even under the best circumstances people can be lonely.I am also acutely aware just how much I want it. How much I want to receive and give unconditional love. I would be good at it. I can be your best cheerleader. It is another thing H took away. Not only my love, my ability to hope for love. For all you neysayers out there who will tell me
" Dont let him take it away,,, you can choose to feel differently, it is not what happened to you , but how you handle it that counts.." He took it away. He did. If someone steals your wallet, it doesnt matter how you feel about it, its still gone.
Something to do - I was a stay at home mom for 12 years. I need a job. There was a time in my life along time ago when I was passionate about my job. I was a manager at McDonalds, and I loved it. I worked 60 hours a week , happily! Getting performance reviews was the best part of my year. Now I dont know what to do. If there was a magic fairy that told me I could have any job I wanted, I wouldnt know what to pick. Years of being told I made the wrong decisions has left me paralyzed. This is another thing I want people to understand, just because I havent been hit in 3 years, doesnt mean I dont struggle daily. Raising my kids is a gift that I am thankful for, it is not the same as completing a hard day of work and feeling like you did a good job.
Something to hope for- Jonathan ( my 19 year old) asked me one day what I was excited about. It was after some thought that I said "nothing." He wondered if I was excited to move into our new house. I said "no, not really, I'm sad." The house I currently am living in has gotten foreclosed on. My father bought me a house near by that I will rent from him, and hopefully buy from him someday. I am very fortunate . The best I can hope for is to try to take care of my kids, pay my bills and live my life in peace. I guess that is something.
I have been told this blog isnt very inspiring, and needs some kind of happy ending. Some kind of lesson. The lesson is this, abuse is far reaching and the effects are devastating. I am not going to pretend to be okay for other people. I am not okay. I am mad , I am bitter and I am dissapointed. Not only with H but with alot of other people. The lesson is also this, do not assume what people are going through. Ask. One thing almost no one did was ask me what it felt like to live with H. They assumed the violence was the worst of it, and once that was over , so were my problems. I did not tell the truth for years, about my life, my relationship , myself. I refuse to be " happy" or " over it" because it would make other people feel more comfortable. That is how I got into this situation .
To end on a lighter note however..,,,, I actually am feeling better, lighter, and even occasionally happy. I dont cry every day anymore. I laugh more, I even dance with my kids (when they let me! they do not approve of my dance moves!) I have realized how incredibly lucky and blessed I am , for alot of reasons...So maybe one day I can write an inspiring blog.... Like a phoenix rising out of the ashes....
Just kidding , I DESPISE that analogy......Im not a phoenix and my life isnt in ashes.......maybe a swan..... I guess I will figure it out,,,,,,,,,
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Maybe now ...
I have told this story many times. It is not the worst thing H ever did, and it didnt even leave a bruise.
First, a little background. When my son Jake was born , after 25 hours of labor, it was decided I needed a C-section. This was my second son, H-s first. It didnt take me long to realize things were different this time. Things werent progressing. 20 hours into it I couldnt take the pain and wanted an epidural. First mistake. H did not approve. Epidural, sleep, waking to an oxygen mask, scared. Jake was struggling, it was too much for him.C-section. I swear it took 3 minutes and voila , Jake had arrived. Happy ending right? Mother and child healthy, right? Wrong! My Chiropractor husband was NOT happy. Privately he refused to help with things. Publicly he was the model father. One day after dropping the diaper bag I asked H if he could grab it for me. I was still very sore. H looked me dead in the eye and said NO. It was my own fault I had to have a C-section. Translation, I didnt give birth right. In other words, I had known H did not want me to have an epidural, I had known H didnt want me to have a C-section. I had disobeyed. What would all his patients say? His Chiropractor friends? He ridiculed me for years because of it.
So when I got pregnant with our second son , I was on a mission. I would have him vaginally. The pregnancy was a dream, I felt great. As the big day got closer, I was excited. Of course to see my new son, but honestly , I was just excited to do it RIGHT. Two weeks before my due date I went to the Doctor. My body was almost ready, she stripped my membranes ( ouch!!) and told me to drink castor oil. First mistake, it was a Thursday. If I went into labor, H would have to take Friday off of work. H did not want to take Friday off of work. We fought for hours, why couldnt I have waited a day?? I tried to sleep ( on the couch , because we were fighting) but I was in labor. We got to the hospital around 1 and Richard was born by 5. Without a C-section. So despite my earlier slip up, I had done something right. Or so I thought. I waited for the moment when H looked at me and said " Im so proud of you." Or " Thank you for giving me our son." Maybe I watch too many movies.
After Richard was safely in the nursery, this is what H said to me. " I am sooo tired. " He was trying to sleep on a chair that layed down into a cot. H reminded me he was up all night and he didnt get any sleep. The chair was very uncomfortable. If he could just get a little sleep he would feel better. So this is what I said " Would you like to sleep in the bed? I can try to sleep on the chair." Warm and snug in my hospital bed, H fell instantly asleep. He awoke an hour or so later when the nurse tried to take his blood pressure.
There have been many different reactions when I tell this story. 1. He didnt really do that...2. Why would you get out of your bed? Who cares if he was tired?? 3. This reaction is not a verbal one, but this is what the blank stare says - So?? its not like you had a triple by-pass or something, H is a big guy in a little chair, your a little girl in a big bed???
This story is my relationship with H in a nutshell. Me trying to make him happy , and never quite figuring out how. Losing myself in the process. It also explains how some people view my relationship. It couldnt of been that bad, there had to be good times.Why would you stay?? I wouldnt of stayed ( or gotten out of the hospital bed.) So he got drunk and hurt you a few times, he also bought you a great house and a great car. He plays with his kids. He is so charming.
You may be wondering how it felt to be sitting in a chair of my hospital room hours after giving birth and not sleeping for days. Listening to my husband snore. Sad? Scared? Mad? Unappreciated? Uncomfortable? Nope.
Relief. Relief H was asleep. Relief H was comfortable. I could sleep later. I could handle anything. I would be fine. I also felt hope. Hope that H would realize how much I loved him. Realize that all I cared about was him. Hope and relief ,as my body ached, and my head throbbed. Maybe now he would get it. Maybe now...
First, a little background. When my son Jake was born , after 25 hours of labor, it was decided I needed a C-section. This was my second son, H-s first. It didnt take me long to realize things were different this time. Things werent progressing. 20 hours into it I couldnt take the pain and wanted an epidural. First mistake. H did not approve. Epidural, sleep, waking to an oxygen mask, scared. Jake was struggling, it was too much for him.C-section. I swear it took 3 minutes and voila , Jake had arrived. Happy ending right? Mother and child healthy, right? Wrong! My Chiropractor husband was NOT happy. Privately he refused to help with things. Publicly he was the model father. One day after dropping the diaper bag I asked H if he could grab it for me. I was still very sore. H looked me dead in the eye and said NO. It was my own fault I had to have a C-section. Translation, I didnt give birth right. In other words, I had known H did not want me to have an epidural, I had known H didnt want me to have a C-section. I had disobeyed. What would all his patients say? His Chiropractor friends? He ridiculed me for years because of it.
So when I got pregnant with our second son , I was on a mission. I would have him vaginally. The pregnancy was a dream, I felt great. As the big day got closer, I was excited. Of course to see my new son, but honestly , I was just excited to do it RIGHT. Two weeks before my due date I went to the Doctor. My body was almost ready, she stripped my membranes ( ouch!!) and told me to drink castor oil. First mistake, it was a Thursday. If I went into labor, H would have to take Friday off of work. H did not want to take Friday off of work. We fought for hours, why couldnt I have waited a day?? I tried to sleep ( on the couch , because we were fighting) but I was in labor. We got to the hospital around 1 and Richard was born by 5. Without a C-section. So despite my earlier slip up, I had done something right. Or so I thought. I waited for the moment when H looked at me and said " Im so proud of you." Or " Thank you for giving me our son." Maybe I watch too many movies.
After Richard was safely in the nursery, this is what H said to me. " I am sooo tired. " He was trying to sleep on a chair that layed down into a cot. H reminded me he was up all night and he didnt get any sleep. The chair was very uncomfortable. If he could just get a little sleep he would feel better. So this is what I said " Would you like to sleep in the bed? I can try to sleep on the chair." Warm and snug in my hospital bed, H fell instantly asleep. He awoke an hour or so later when the nurse tried to take his blood pressure.
There have been many different reactions when I tell this story. 1. He didnt really do that...2. Why would you get out of your bed? Who cares if he was tired?? 3. This reaction is not a verbal one, but this is what the blank stare says - So?? its not like you had a triple by-pass or something, H is a big guy in a little chair, your a little girl in a big bed???
This story is my relationship with H in a nutshell. Me trying to make him happy , and never quite figuring out how. Losing myself in the process. It also explains how some people view my relationship. It couldnt of been that bad, there had to be good times.Why would you stay?? I wouldnt of stayed ( or gotten out of the hospital bed.) So he got drunk and hurt you a few times, he also bought you a great house and a great car. He plays with his kids. He is so charming.
You may be wondering how it felt to be sitting in a chair of my hospital room hours after giving birth and not sleeping for days. Listening to my husband snore. Sad? Scared? Mad? Unappreciated? Uncomfortable? Nope.
Relief. Relief H was asleep. Relief H was comfortable. I could sleep later. I could handle anything. I would be fine. I also felt hope. Hope that H would realize how much I loved him. Realize that all I cared about was him. Hope and relief ,as my body ached, and my head throbbed. Maybe now he would get it. Maybe now...
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Prep work
My husband put a lot of time into making sure I was ready to be abused. It didnt happen overnight. It took two years. Two years of making sure I knew he was always right. When we would discuss where to go for lunch for example, this is how it would go. H- " Where would you like to go to lunch?" Me- "It doesnt matter, just not Chinese." H-"Well you pick, you never decide anything." Me- " Fine lets go to Billys Cafe", This is where one of two things would happen, If H was feeling generous we would go to Billys Cafe. Once there he would complain about the service , the food or the man with the weird mustache that kept staring at him. Which of course would reinforce the notion that I cant even make a simple decision. If H was not feeling generous he would try to convince me that the Chinese buffet really did make the most sense. There would be something there I could eat, and they had ice cream ( which I never ate).This happened EVERY time. We never went anywhere once that I chose where he didnt make it hell for me. NEVER.
It was scenes like this one played over and over , about the simplest thing, that led to my demise. H got extremely mad at me one night after I casually asked him how I should wear my hair. He said down and when I decided last minute to just pull it into a pony tail, you think I would have killed his cat. We were on our way out to a party. And he literally was fuming " You have no respect for my opinion!! I told you to wear it down!! Why did you even ask me!! " I tried to explain that I just couldnt make it work down. So then this-" It just hurts me so much . Its like you think I have bad taste or something. I just wish you trusted me." So to my family and friends, this is how it starts. How in that instant I have a decision to make. If I keep my hair up there will be consequences. Pouting , snide comments and the worst, withdrawing of attention and affection. If I let my hair down there will be peace. I might feel yucky all night, but there will be peace. Albeit temporary, my disobedience is not quickly forgotten.
By the time he beat me, he had me so convinced that he couldnt be wrong, I apologized to him.
Prep work. You cant go on a trip, throw a dinner party or perform surgery without it.
My husband was very good at his.
It was scenes like this one played over and over , about the simplest thing, that led to my demise. H got extremely mad at me one night after I casually asked him how I should wear my hair. He said down and when I decided last minute to just pull it into a pony tail, you think I would have killed his cat. We were on our way out to a party. And he literally was fuming " You have no respect for my opinion!! I told you to wear it down!! Why did you even ask me!! " I tried to explain that I just couldnt make it work down. So then this-" It just hurts me so much . Its like you think I have bad taste or something. I just wish you trusted me." So to my family and friends, this is how it starts. How in that instant I have a decision to make. If I keep my hair up there will be consequences. Pouting , snide comments and the worst, withdrawing of attention and affection. If I let my hair down there will be peace. I might feel yucky all night, but there will be peace. Albeit temporary, my disobedience is not quickly forgotten.
By the time he beat me, he had me so convinced that he couldnt be wrong, I apologized to him.
Prep work. You cant go on a trip, throw a dinner party or perform surgery without it.
My husband was very good at his.
Friday, January 14, 2011
First Blog- an explanation
Waiting for a hurricane. Anyone who has lived in a hurricane zone knows what this feels like. It can take weeks. First few days your curiousity is peaked, is that tropical low going to turn into a storm? Next few days, is that tropical storm going to turn into a full fledged hurricane? Next few days, is that hurricane coming OUR way? And thats when the fun starts. Trips to Walmart , gas station and ofcourse the liquor store. You have food and drink , batteries, and candles. And then you wait. When it finally comes, there is a sense of relief that goes with the fear, at least the wait is over. Its never as bad as it could have been. Its never as good as you hoped. The weather is usually beautiful after. A sense of community erupts, neighbors helping neighbors clean up the mess. But the gorgeous tree that fell down, the one that shaded your picnics, the one that held the tire swing, can not be replaced.You can plant a new one, but it will take years to grow. And somehow it makes your whole yard, your whole house, your whole life feel different.
The same kind of waiting happens with domestic violence.There are signs, innocent to anyone but the victim. At first you try to brush them off. Maybe that smile was real? Maybe I'm getting the flu, and that would explain the pit in my stomache. So the cycle would begin. Small accusations. Little injustices. Feelings would get hurt, his ,not mine ofcourse. I would wait. Wait until the storm hit. I would brace myself and wait for it to be over. I would give tearful apologies, and beg him to forgive ME. I thought if I was better it would stop happening. A day or two later when the beating had a chance to settle in my 5'2 body, and the pain made it difficult to move, because he was a nice man , he would help with the kids. He would explain in his Dr. way that the deep purple and green meant the bruises were very deep, he suggested ice. And like the hurricane, the weather would clear, and life would go on.
I have heard stories of wives getting beaten by there perfect husbands on there wedding night.That was not the case with me. There were signs early on, not violent signs, but signs of abusive controlling behavior. I guess I am writing this because there are things about victims I would like to clear up. Ofcourse I cant speak for all victims, but I will speak for myself. By the time my husband first abused me ( grabbing me, shaking me, throwing me against walls, kicking me in the legs and back as hard as humanly possible) he had already emotionally abused me very severely. I have had people say to me " I would never let a man touch me, I would leave immediately!!" What I have to say to those people is this. The person I am today (trying to be , every day is difficult) is not the person that got beaten.
I planted a new tree. I am trying to take care of it. I will never be the same. My children will never be the same. I am trying.
The same kind of waiting happens with domestic violence.There are signs, innocent to anyone but the victim. At first you try to brush them off. Maybe that smile was real? Maybe I'm getting the flu, and that would explain the pit in my stomache. So the cycle would begin. Small accusations. Little injustices. Feelings would get hurt, his ,not mine ofcourse. I would wait. Wait until the storm hit. I would brace myself and wait for it to be over. I would give tearful apologies, and beg him to forgive ME. I thought if I was better it would stop happening. A day or two later when the beating had a chance to settle in my 5'2 body, and the pain made it difficult to move, because he was a nice man , he would help with the kids. He would explain in his Dr. way that the deep purple and green meant the bruises were very deep, he suggested ice. And like the hurricane, the weather would clear, and life would go on.
I have heard stories of wives getting beaten by there perfect husbands on there wedding night.That was not the case with me. There were signs early on, not violent signs, but signs of abusive controlling behavior. I guess I am writing this because there are things about victims I would like to clear up. Ofcourse I cant speak for all victims, but I will speak for myself. By the time my husband first abused me ( grabbing me, shaking me, throwing me against walls, kicking me in the legs and back as hard as humanly possible) he had already emotionally abused me very severely. I have had people say to me " I would never let a man touch me, I would leave immediately!!" What I have to say to those people is this. The person I am today (trying to be , every day is difficult) is not the person that got beaten.
I planted a new tree. I am trying to take care of it. I will never be the same. My children will never be the same. I am trying.
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