Monday, January 11, 2010
Confusion
As I look in the mirror, I don't understand what I see. The girl looking back at me is somehow looking down at her feet. She's embarrassed and ashamed to even look me in the eye. Her eyes clearly depict horror and sadness. Her skin is discoloured. Black and purple most prominent. There aren't many places where her real skin tone shows through. There's blood and hair. To look at her frightens me. It hurts to raise my eyes to her face. To meet her gaze and look her square in the eye. Not just hurt from the heart that bleeds more than her body, but from the physical pain I feel all around my scalp where he ripped me up off the floor by my hair and threw me around the house again and again. Into doors and walls. Reefing me up just so he could knock me down again.
I know there should be tears. I should be crying, sobbing. I'm not. Not one single tear wells into my bloodshot eyes. I am sad, hurt, confused. I grab my pen and my notebook. I start to scrawl some thoughts onto paper. I describe how sorry I am. How I wish is hadn't have caused his so much pain. Not once mentioning my own pain or heartache. For it is a dull ache in comparison to what he has gone through. What I put him through.
- adapted from personal diary.
A fraction of the story...
I don't even know how I managed to fend him off. Perhaps I didn't. Perhaps he held back just enough so he could keep going until he was satisfied. Thinking back, putting my hands up to cover my face and drawing my knees up to my chest is hardly going to protect me from a 6foot4 man with a heart full of rage and eyes so angry you cannot see his soul.
What does it mean when the one you love, the one who holds you tight at night, tells you how much pain he wants to inflict on you and says he wants you dead. My brain had no response for that. I felt so confused. My heart writhing in pain. Had I really just heard those words pass through his seething lips?
He spits in my face and I hear those words again. He grips my arms tighter and kneels upon my chest, crushing me under his weight. My head at a strange angle pushed up against the wall. I feel so scared and helpless. I try to push him off using my legs. It's useless. His years of army and football training have taught him too well.
It only makes him twist in anger. Fuels his rage. He knees me hard in groin. It's agony. Before I can squeeze a sound out of my throat in pain, a hand slaps me across the face and ear. One side and then the other. Over and over. My eyes are closed so tight. I'm crying.
Silent sobs escape between my shaking lips until I feel it. His hot hands are suddenly tightly and permanently around my throat. The shock sets in. My eyes fly open. I can only imagine the look of sheer horror upon my face. He laughs at my terror. He's laughing? Why is he laughing? I am struggling. I can't breathe. To loosen his grip my nails gouge my own neck. I pull with all my might. I just need one more breath.
What does it mean when the one you love, the one who holds you tight at night, tells you how much pain he wants to inflict on you and says he wants you dead. My brain had no response for that. I felt so confused. My heart writhing in pain. Had I really just heard those words pass through his seething lips?
He spits in my face and I hear those words again. He grips my arms tighter and kneels upon my chest, crushing me under his weight. My head at a strange angle pushed up against the wall. I feel so scared and helpless. I try to push him off using my legs. It's useless. His years of army and football training have taught him too well.
It only makes him twist in anger. Fuels his rage. He knees me hard in groin. It's agony. Before I can squeeze a sound out of my throat in pain, a hand slaps me across the face and ear. One side and then the other. Over and over. My eyes are closed so tight. I'm crying.
Silent sobs escape between my shaking lips until I feel it. His hot hands are suddenly tightly and permanently around my throat. The shock sets in. My eyes fly open. I can only imagine the look of sheer horror upon my face. He laughs at my terror. He's laughing? Why is he laughing? I am struggling. I can't breathe. To loosen his grip my nails gouge my own neck. I pull with all my might. I just need one more breath.
- adapted from personal diary.
Tuesday, January 05, 2010
I finally listened to my 'Gut Instincts'
I never really knew what the phrase 'listen to your gut' meant. Now I do. It is that feeling when something just doesn't add up. When something smells a little stale and off. When it tastes slightly bitter and doesn't sit right. HEAR IT! It is your brain's way of trying to get to you open your eyes and see that you need to make the right decision here. The one that will prevent something bad from happening.
For me that gut instinct spoke to me with a faint... something just doesn't add up... kind of feeling. I had been fighting with Mr Manipulator all weekend via text. My son and I had been driving around from parks, to shops all weekend to stay out of 'his' hair. He was so angry that we just weren't going to be able to spend any time in the same place. Late on Sunday afternoon I got a text suggesting that I come home and that my son would be tired. I agreed as I was exhausted and needed a shower and above all else I wanted to make things right again. After all it was my fault Mr Manipulator was so angry (wasn't it?). When I pulled up to our house I didn't pull in the driveway. I think I did that in case I needed a quick getaway. Not that I actually thought I would need to but it was just an impulsive thing I did. The second and most important thing I did was I asked my 4yr old son to stay in the car until I came to get him. I told him that he was not to get out of the car until I came for him. No matter what. He agreed. I got out of the car and locked the doors. It was then, with my heart in my throat and an intense feeling of needing to throw up that I walked into the house we called home (or used to). For two hours he beat me, threw me around the house and verbally abused me. He threatened many times to kill me.
I am not going to give a blow by blow account of this now as I do not feel the strength to do so just yet. But I am so grateful that I listened to my gut on this one. If I had of ignored my gut instincts (as I have done in the past) and taken my son inside who knows what might have happened. I didn't save myself from Mr Manipulator's violence but I did, to some degree, save my son from being a part of it or witnessing it. He would not be here today if he were to have felt the intensity of just one of Mr Manipulator's punches.
If I learnt anything from this experience it was that we are sent or given messages by something inside. We must recognise what they are trying to tell us. We must listen to ourselves more closely in order understand and make better informed decisions. There have been other times in my life where I have felt strong instincts about something and ignored them only to be met with regret that I had not 'followed my gut'.
Sometimes when you think you're guessing, your brain may actually know better.
So, the next time your gut instincts give you a warning before attempting something in your life, take heed of the warning signs. They are there for a reason.
For me that gut instinct spoke to me with a faint... something just doesn't add up... kind of feeling. I had been fighting with Mr Manipulator all weekend via text. My son and I had been driving around from parks, to shops all weekend to stay out of 'his' hair. He was so angry that we just weren't going to be able to spend any time in the same place. Late on Sunday afternoon I got a text suggesting that I come home and that my son would be tired. I agreed as I was exhausted and needed a shower and above all else I wanted to make things right again. After all it was my fault Mr Manipulator was so angry (wasn't it?). When I pulled up to our house I didn't pull in the driveway. I think I did that in case I needed a quick getaway. Not that I actually thought I would need to but it was just an impulsive thing I did. The second and most important thing I did was I asked my 4yr old son to stay in the car until I came to get him. I told him that he was not to get out of the car until I came for him. No matter what. He agreed. I got out of the car and locked the doors. It was then, with my heart in my throat and an intense feeling of needing to throw up that I walked into the house we called home (or used to). For two hours he beat me, threw me around the house and verbally abused me. He threatened many times to kill me.
I am not going to give a blow by blow account of this now as I do not feel the strength to do so just yet. But I am so grateful that I listened to my gut on this one. If I had of ignored my gut instincts (as I have done in the past) and taken my son inside who knows what might have happened. I didn't save myself from Mr Manipulator's violence but I did, to some degree, save my son from being a part of it or witnessing it. He would not be here today if he were to have felt the intensity of just one of Mr Manipulator's punches.
If I learnt anything from this experience it was that we are sent or given messages by something inside. We must recognise what they are trying to tell us. We must listen to ourselves more closely in order understand and make better informed decisions. There have been other times in my life where I have felt strong instincts about something and ignored them only to be met with regret that I had not 'followed my gut'.
Sometimes when you think you're guessing, your brain may actually know better.
So, the next time your gut instincts give you a warning before attempting something in your life, take heed of the warning signs. They are there for a reason.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
I'm not 'that' woman.
Domestic Violence. The term still rung fresh in my ears days after it first hit me in the face like a tonne of bricks! This is so not about domestic violence. I was on my defensive and felt utterly compelled to protect the man that I love. The man that I had betrayed. The man that I made so angry and hurt that he lashed out at me. Given it was for two hours, I went through a wall and I think I had hurt my hip bone more than just bruising it... but I caused it. Hadn't I?
It took me weeks to come to terms with the descriptive word that explained my situation. When I say 'come to terms' I use that very loosely. It means I was able to do some background research on the topic online and in books. It means that I was open to finding out more about it. I still wasn't convinced that what I had gone through was domestic violence. I mean, weren't domestic violence victims people who were weak and couldn't think for themselves? Didn't their abusers hit them on more than one occasion? Wasn't the violence something that came out of no where?
Apparently not. 3 Months, 4 books and several counseling visits later, I am well aware of what happened and how it most definitely fits in the 'domestic violence' category. In fact, I fell into another category as well. I was also the victim of abuse. Emotional abuse. He was a very skilled and controlling manipulator.
All along I had thought that it was my fault that my lie had caused his 20 odd years of bottled up hate and hurt from his abuse as a child to be taken out on me. That I deserved it after hurting him so much and betraying his trust. The fact that my 'lie' was there in the first place to protect myself from his 'rules' never even entered my mind.
These days I am able to see it for what it was. I did nothing wrong. Though in saying that, I still feel guilt and I still believe that if I had of stuck to his rules no matter how uncomfortable they made me feel then none of this would have happened. Then again maybe it might have. Maybe it would have been something else that was a trigger for him. Regardless, I am now comfortable with the term domestic violence. I understand that he was manipulating me and I can now see very very clearly, just how controlling he was.
I was in a relationship with a controlling manipulator. I have experienced domestic violence first hand. I am that woman.
It took me weeks to come to terms with the descriptive word that explained my situation. When I say 'come to terms' I use that very loosely. It means I was able to do some background research on the topic online and in books. It means that I was open to finding out more about it. I still wasn't convinced that what I had gone through was domestic violence. I mean, weren't domestic violence victims people who were weak and couldn't think for themselves? Didn't their abusers hit them on more than one occasion? Wasn't the violence something that came out of no where?
Apparently not. 3 Months, 4 books and several counseling visits later, I am well aware of what happened and how it most definitely fits in the 'domestic violence' category. In fact, I fell into another category as well. I was also the victim of abuse. Emotional abuse. He was a very skilled and controlling manipulator.
All along I had thought that it was my fault that my lie had caused his 20 odd years of bottled up hate and hurt from his abuse as a child to be taken out on me. That I deserved it after hurting him so much and betraying his trust. The fact that my 'lie' was there in the first place to protect myself from his 'rules' never even entered my mind.
These days I am able to see it for what it was. I did nothing wrong. Though in saying that, I still feel guilt and I still believe that if I had of stuck to his rules no matter how uncomfortable they made me feel then none of this would have happened. Then again maybe it might have. Maybe it would have been something else that was a trigger for him. Regardless, I am now comfortable with the term domestic violence. I understand that he was manipulating me and I can now see very very clearly, just how controlling he was.
I was in a relationship with a controlling manipulator. I have experienced domestic violence first hand. I am that woman.
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