I experienced domestic abuse.
The fear of sharing is real. What will people think? Will they believe it? Will my integrity be called into question? Will they act differently? How will it be received? Will others cut me out of their lives?
Then there’s the other side. I lived with this for too long. I hid unacceptable behaviors; I covered for someone repeatedly. I doubted my worth. I made excuses for behaviors. I cried myself to sleep. I walked on eggshells daily. And what if someone else is in that place and is waiting to hear these words? What if someone is questioning behaviors, or is afraid to tell for any of those same reasons? What if one person can spend one less day living this way? Then isn’t it all worth it?
There’s a very real, palpable opinion about discussion of abuse. There are some that believe that certain things shouldn’t be discussed. Matters are handled quietly and in private.
The further away I am, the more clearly I see. The fog begins to lift and just speaking the words of the experiences leave me shocked at times. Hearing the words outside of my head make them real. There’s no minimizing when you see the reaction on someone’s face. Wow, I think, that really was unacceptable. The more I say out loud, the more I realize the depth and complexity of the situation.
The subtlety is just that. Any person can say they would get out of a situation when they see where it ended. This ending often takes years to achieve. But to recognize it in the earliest stages when it’s a comment here or there that can be easily mistaken for an offhanded comment is much more difficult.
I believe my story is an important one because it felt less black and white at the time. I believed that a clear picture would have arisen if I left with physical scars and wounds. This wouldn’t have helped in the sense of escaping the fear, but it would have, in my head, been a more clear characterization.
I didn’t have physical bruises but I did lock myself in a bedroom out of fear with 911 ready to call. I did attempt to leave the house out of fear. I managed to speak the words, “You are scaring me”, with my car door in his hands as I pulled out of the driveway, shaking. I felt an overwhelming sense of powerlessness when my hands and phone were grabbed for audio recording during an outburst; the grip was forceful and strong and I knew there was no place for reason at that point. I felt the need to audio record situations on a regular basis in case I needed evidence if things got “really bad”.
I woke up each day waiting to see what kind of mood I was dealing with. Even then, one wrong move would change the tone of the room. I craved our time with others even moreso because the fantasy I held onto was in those moments. I could be in tears the whole drive over. But the moment we walked into the door of a home of someone else, my fantasy was back. Laughing, jokes, witty banter. He was back. He must have just been tired before. It wasn’t that bad.
And that’s the lie I told myself over and over again.
It began with one comment. “Your photo is deceptive. It makes you look thinner than you actually are.” I chalked it up to an insensitive, off-handed comment a man might say. And I am one who knows perfectly well the experience of putting my foot in my mouth. It stung but it was one comment.
The rest was so so good. Prayer, faith, Adoration were at the core of the relationship.
That one comment, as I look back, was the first time it began. I would have no idea that that would be a launching point. What I said in that moment was, “Well, the photo was taken last month so I’m not sure what to tell you,” What I would say now is, “Wow, that’s incredibly inappropriate and offensive. I deserve an apology. That won’t happen again if this relationship is going to continue.”
That one comment started a spiral that I was unprepared and unequip to handle. It led to other comments and escalating behaviors that felt so gradual but accumulated to incredibly abusive and unacceptable levels.
“Do you really need to eat that?”
“I’m trying to watch what I’m eating.”
Throwing food into the trash that I “shouldn’t” eat and saying, “Yeah I threw it away. You didn’t need it.”
“Do you know how many calories are in that?”
“Are you carbing up for something?”
“I don’t need dessert.”
“Do you really need that Coke?”
“You ate out? You know we have food at home, right?” while simultaneously eating out
Taking his hands under my chin and “hiding” the double-chin to see what I would look like if I were thinner.
“Have you been to the gym lately?”
“When was the last time you went to the gym?”
“I want to make sure we’re getting our money’s worth at the gym.”
“Maybe I’ll just cancel the gym. I don’t think you’re getting our money’s worth.”
“I don’t want to buy you a bike because I don’t think you’ll get our money’s worth.”
“How many times have you ridden the bike?”
"Are you doing cardio every day? Maybe that's why you can't get pregnant."
"Are you doing cardio every day? Maybe that's why you can't get pregnant."
Comments about my appearance didn’t just have to do with food.
“Are you going to get ready or are you going like that?”
“You look pretty with your hair down.”
“I like your hair down.”
“Are you going to do your make up?”
“Don’t you want me to be attracted to you?”
“If you ever weighed that much you’d be breaking your marriage vows.”
“I wouldn’t stay with you if you were that big.”
I found myself asking if I was dressed to his expectations or apologizing for not meeting them.
“I’m sorry my hair is up but it’s really hot outside.”
“I know I’m in yoga pants but it’s the weekend and I’ve been in work clothes all week.”
"I know I'm not wearing make up but..."
"I know I'm not wearing make up but..."
I always needed a reason for not meeting the expectation.
"I never should have married you."
"I settled when I married you."
"You don't deserve me."
"I don't love you."
"Your marital obligation is to sleep with me. If you don't, you're breaking your vows."
The list goes on and on. No one in the world knows the extent of the abuse.
This that started with one comment about a photo of me made its way into all aspects of my life. How I cleaned the house, how I made a sandwich, how I cared for the pets, how productive I was on my day off, the laundry, if my car was clean enough. My life became overcome with expectations that I would never meet. I’d spend time after work cleaning the house, vacuuming, dusting, sweeping and mopping in hopes that it would reduce tension at night. I’d do it and list off the things I did to prepare for his arrival only to hear “Look at all the dishes that need to be done.” I was crushed. The dishes were the one thing I didn't do.
In all of this, I lost myself. I would never measure up because the expectations were ever-increasing. They were 100% unrealistic.
I sat down one day and began writing bullet points of ways I could now live without hearing about how they weren’t enough or wrong. I added deeply hurtful behaviors that went beyond just this abusive behavior but were equally damaging. 11 pages later, I took a break. 11 pages of not just hurtful but unacceptable behaviors that stemmed from that first off-handed comment.
Looking at that list, I see how far it went. But the excuses I made for each and every one of them kept me in the cycle. The apology that followed the outbursts, the hand-written letters or flowers left me feeling that things would change. That it was all a misunderstanding. That he didn’t mean to scare me.
But this I know, fear of safety should never ever be a part of a relationship. And if just one person hears that, then that gives this experience purpose outside of my own personal growth.
Worth is not based on someone else’s ability to see or acknowledge it. You have worth just by being the very person that you are. You are worthy, you are beautiful, you are strong.
This post is unedited and is a just a brief snapshot that was on my heart to share.
This post is unedited and is a just a brief snapshot that was on my heart to share.
