What Abuse Really Looks Like...
So I got a sad panda phone call today, which displeases me. Apparently, a friend of my husband called him today, and told him that he had to check out his ex-wife's blog, because she was blasting him 10 ways from Sunday. So he called me to bitch, then asked if I thought of him as emotionally abusive, physically abusive, inconsiderate... the list went on and on. He let me read it... IMHO... I have written far, far, far worse about my former spouse. But I digress.
The answer is no, and no, and again no.
So I hope you will indulge me in allowing me to make a few contrast examples between what abusive is, and is not. Because I KNOW what an abusive relationship is. I know what is is to say, "It's not that bad." I know what it's like to cover up your bruises so the world doesn't see. I know what it is to wear a turtleneck in the summer, and tell everyone that you just "felt like wearing it". I know what is it to call my parents and tell them that you can't come over because you're "busy" when really, it's because the car keys were taken away. I know what is is to still tell them you're busy, even when the keys are still on the hook, because there will be hell to pay if he finds out. Because he always did. I know what is is to be beaten, and have my children hiding in their closet, because they are afraid of what they see and hear. I know what it is to have my firstborn child cheer when the beating starts, because he is starting to mimic the behavior, then become afraid, and call 911. I know what it's like to stare at my feet and tell the police that it was just an argument, and that "it wasn't that bad." I know what it's to have a 9 year old call me a liar, and tell all to that same cop, who dressed me down in front of my kids and made me feel an inch tall.
I know what it means to be the woman who refused to press charges to that same police officer, because, "honest, I swear, it wasn't that bad."
I know what it is to sit in an IEP meeting at my child's school and have the staff urge me to get help, to get away. I took their cards and phone numbers, and did nothing, because "it wasn't that bad."
I know what it's like to be summoned to his best friend's house, surrounded by people I barely knew, and listen to them tell stories about how he had bragged to them about everything he did to me. How he hurt me. How he made my son hate me. How I couldn't spend a cent without his permission. How he was having sex with a fourteen year old AND HER MOM, and that I knew. How he was all-powerful and god-like he was, and that I was powerless, and could do nothing. Because I was his, and would always obey, or be beaten or raped into submission.
You want to know what abuse is? That is what abuse is. And do you know what? I still didn't leave.
Because even after my intervention when my eyes were opened and I realized how bad it was... I still didn't have the courage to walk out the door. Because where would I go, and what would I do? Go to a shelter? Have CPS take my children away? I couldn't bear it.
But I did have the courage to make a couple little changes. I went out a little more. I made friends and saw them occasionally, and talked with them often And a few weeks later when he got angry, and told me he was going out, and was going to kill me when he got back, I finally fled. I ran as fast as I could, and I cried, because I didn't know what I was going to do, or where I was going to go, or how to survive, or keep my children...
Because I realize now what I didn't know then. Then, I *knew* that I was worthless. Because he told me so, every day. Worthless and useless. A thing who's only value was to babysit the kids when he was away, which was often. A placeholder, until something better came along, which it did. Often.
That is what emotional and physical abuse is.
I remember the day I ran. Because I used my open invitation for the first time with an old friend. Once I hadn't seen in 12 years, but had remembered me fondly. One I'd recently remet, and had arranged my intervention from my abusive relationship. One who offered to let me stay with him until I got my own place. One who let me cry on his shoulder until I couldn't anymore, who would talk with me for hours on end until sleep was the only thing I could do. One who gave me his honest opinion whether I liked it or not. He reminded me what kindness was, and for a moment, just a moment... I thought that just maybe, I might be worth a damn. And when I came back to his place, bruised and bleeding from another encounter with Mr. Former, he first told me, then pleaded with me, to go to the police. And when I refused, because "it wasn't that bad" he was angry with me, but respected me enough to allow me to make that choice.
That's what kindness is. That's what respect is.
Then next morning when I realized how much I hurt, bow I could barely move my arms, and saw how bad it looked... I finally went to the police, and was granted a restraining order the following Monday.
That's when I found out what relief was.
Over the next 7 months, I spent time with my rescuer, and my friends. My kids and I moved out of our old house. I went to court to fight for them, my restraining order, and won. I healed and grew a lot. Unsurprisingly, I fell pretty hard for that man. But he had told me in the beginning that he wasn't the father-type, and that was a deal-breaker for me. I still loved him though, as both my friend and rescuer. Never in my wildest dreams would I guess that he still had more to give me.
7 months after my escape, he introduced me to his friend. One he hasn't seen in years either. When my back was turned, he gave permission for his friend to pursue me, with the warning that he would likely be unsuccessful - because he knew I was pretty stuck on him. A few days later, he encouraged me in the same direction, saying he truly thought that we would be good together. He was right. A lot right.
4 months later, we decided to join our lives together. To see if we could be a couple, if he could go from being a bachelor to a father of three. In that year, I learned a lot about him, about me, and about us as a family.
The first thing I learned was that he put me and my well-being first, above everything all else. When I had to go to court for a custody hearing, I had to be in the same room as Mr. Former. Although I had to admit that I didn't think he was going to suddenly attack me in front of the bailiff, judge, and everyone else present, I had to admit that I was terrified. Terrified to the point where I couldn't help but slump against the wall and cry like a small girl who had to walk home in the dark without any light. He asked me once if I wanted him to go. Then immediately called into work, and told them he couldn't come in. He was my hero that day. And when I said that I couldn't ever repay him, and that I would give him anything, he only had to ask, he thought of one thing right away, as his price. "Don't ever tell me again that you don't deserve me. Don't say it. Don't think it. Because you do - and you need to realize that." And I cried again - because I *knew* was worthless, he'd had always told me so, from 16 all they way up til the end. And no matter how many times I'd been told by others that it simply wasn't true... I didn't believe it, not really. And in the brief span of this new relationship, I couldn't even count the number of times that I had told him how didn't deserve him. But I never said it again. And as I write this, I realize... I haven't thought that in a long, long time.
I deserve him. I do. Because a am a little bit of awesome. A little damaged, but yeah. Definitely a little bit of awesome. :) But more than anything else, I'm incredibly lucky. Not only lucky that all the little things that needed to happen did: like meeting up with my old friend, missing Ducal, Crown, and Coronet, dying my hair, being stuck on one guy, my date not showing up, nearly freezing to death the previous night, his wife leaving him, his incredibly foul disposition for the previous month, his invitation to March Drown at the last minute, finally making the last-minute decision to leave the house and have fun, the undeclared war between another girl and I, meeting two other female housemates that would come to be my closest friends, the fight that broke out in our encampment, being one of the verbal targets during said fight, the attitude of said female housemates deciding to get me to drink so I would forget about it, my attitude (as a direct result of said drinking), the scene I caused later on that same night, (again, as a direct result of said drinking), and finally, my name starting with a "D" and appearing right after a certain other girl's in my friend's facebook friends list.
A lot had to happen to get our relationship to kick-start, and while all that was certainly luck, the stars aligning, or pre-determination, (call it what you will) it all happened. And without one or two of these happenings... I don't know if us would have happened. But it did. We stood on that ship in Tahoe, and that same friend married us, saying those words making me his wife in both spirit and law. You know what? That is about fifty shades of awesome. But the million dollar question is why. Why do I love this man so much? Why do I feel I am so lucky to have him by my side in this life?
Because I have a partner in Warcraft, and between the two of us, practically nothing that stands before us can survive.
Because I have someone I can talk to, any time of the day.
Because I have someone who wants to stay home and curl up with me, because I'm worth the most valuable thing he has - his time.
Because I have someone who loves my kids, and is willing to put their needs before his own, and help me raise them right.
Because when I needed to dry my hair, he held the darn "on" button on the hotel hair dryer until I was finished. (Not many would, lol!)
Because I have an escort to Job's, DeMolay, and Eastern Star functions, and DAYMN does he look amazing in a suit & tie!
Because when we fight, he doesn't call me names or demean me. EVER.
Because he LIKES dressing up in his suit and tie.
Because if I ever need help with something, though he may grumble and complain, I know his answer will always be "Sure baby!" or "Yes, Dear." or "FINE! I'll do it!" depending on how much he doesn't want to. :)
Because all I have to do is mention Tahoe, and he'll throw me into the car and bee-line for it.
Because I know that if I want to play in the ocean, he'll take me to Big Sur if I ask. Because it has my forest, and his mountains, and it's GORGEOUS.
Because on movie nights, he loves that the 5 of us all curl up on one bed, puppy-pile style and watch. (As long as his back doesn't hurt.)
Because my IT guy always answers my call fast, and fixes it RIGHT.
Because he touches me. All the time. For no reason.
Because he's a Scadian, and will always take me to an event I want to go to, as long as there is money in the bank, and time on the books. :)
Because he loves my two fluffy furballs. :)
Because when he gets really mad and starts yelling, one mention of the codeword he and Jimmy made up (elephants) will stop lower the volume, and discussion can progress in a more calmer way.
Because he has started compensating for Mayfield time. (albeit grudgingly)
Because he knows when NOT to say something.
Because of random roses on Tuesdays.
Because he indulged me in every aspect of wedding planning. :)
Because when I want to drive, I get to drive. AND I can park on whichever side of the driveway I want. (I know that doesn't seem like a big deal to you, but it is for me!)
Because every once and awhile, when I see something I want, he'll tell me to get it, even when I protest, because I don't "need" it right then.
Because if one of my kids has an important event to attend, he'll be there. From the beginning, they've never had to ask, he always knew it was expected.
Because he listens to my stories, AND my opinions.
Because if I make a suggestion, he ALWAYS listens, and sometimes he takes it.
Because he finally gave Doctor Who a chance, and got as addicted as me!
Because he cares enough to tell my baby girl that her skirt is too short, and that she needs to go and change.
Because he's a good enough man that MY daughter will respect what he said, and not only change, but not wear the skirt ever again. (At least outside the house.)
Because he quit smoking, in part, because he knew I was so against it.
Because my parents are always welcome in our house.
Because he makes me laugh, all the time.
Because he makes me smile, all the time.
Because he tells me I'm beautiful, all the time.
Because he married me, even after I said he didn't need to.
Because he tells me how lucky he is to be with me, that I'm some sort of prize, and that he doesn't know what he did to deserve me.
So no, no, and no. That isn't any kind of abuse at all. Quite the opposite.
No, he isn't perfect, and lord knows, I'm not either. We argue and fight, but we never go to bed angry, because my grandparents told me we shouldn't. He tells me I'm wrong when I think I'm right. And we'll hash it out until someone concedes, or we agree to disagree. He doesn't always want to go out when I do, but then either talks me into staying, agrees to come along, or off I go on my own. If he has a good time, he admits it. If he doesn't, he tells me exactly why, and that's something to bear in mind for next time.
He's a good man, my Lauren. But what's most important is that I do deserve him. And you know what? I rather think he deserves me too. :)
The answer is no, and no, and again no.
So I hope you will indulge me in allowing me to make a few contrast examples between what abusive is, and is not. Because I KNOW what an abusive relationship is. I know what is is to say, "It's not that bad." I know what it's like to cover up your bruises so the world doesn't see. I know what it is to wear a turtleneck in the summer, and tell everyone that you just "felt like wearing it". I know what is it to call my parents and tell them that you can't come over because you're "busy" when really, it's because the car keys were taken away. I know what is is to still tell them you're busy, even when the keys are still on the hook, because there will be hell to pay if he finds out. Because he always did. I know what is is to be beaten, and have my children hiding in their closet, because they are afraid of what they see and hear. I know what it is to have my firstborn child cheer when the beating starts, because he is starting to mimic the behavior, then become afraid, and call 911. I know what it's like to stare at my feet and tell the police that it was just an argument, and that "it wasn't that bad." I know what it's to have a 9 year old call me a liar, and tell all to that same cop, who dressed me down in front of my kids and made me feel an inch tall.
I know what it means to be the woman who refused to press charges to that same police officer, because, "honest, I swear, it wasn't that bad."
I know what it is to sit in an IEP meeting at my child's school and have the staff urge me to get help, to get away. I took their cards and phone numbers, and did nothing, because "it wasn't that bad."
I know what it's like to be summoned to his best friend's house, surrounded by people I barely knew, and listen to them tell stories about how he had bragged to them about everything he did to me. How he hurt me. How he made my son hate me. How I couldn't spend a cent without his permission. How he was having sex with a fourteen year old AND HER MOM, and that I knew. How he was all-powerful and god-like he was, and that I was powerless, and could do nothing. Because I was his, and would always obey, or be beaten or raped into submission.
You want to know what abuse is? That is what abuse is. And do you know what? I still didn't leave.
Because even after my intervention when my eyes were opened and I realized how bad it was... I still didn't have the courage to walk out the door. Because where would I go, and what would I do? Go to a shelter? Have CPS take my children away? I couldn't bear it.
But I did have the courage to make a couple little changes. I went out a little more. I made friends and saw them occasionally, and talked with them often And a few weeks later when he got angry, and told me he was going out, and was going to kill me when he got back, I finally fled. I ran as fast as I could, and I cried, because I didn't know what I was going to do, or where I was going to go, or how to survive, or keep my children...
Because I realize now what I didn't know then. Then, I *knew* that I was worthless. Because he told me so, every day. Worthless and useless. A thing who's only value was to babysit the kids when he was away, which was often. A placeholder, until something better came along, which it did. Often.
That is what emotional and physical abuse is.
I remember the day I ran. Because I used my open invitation for the first time with an old friend. Once I hadn't seen in 12 years, but had remembered me fondly. One I'd recently remet, and had arranged my intervention from my abusive relationship. One who offered to let me stay with him until I got my own place. One who let me cry on his shoulder until I couldn't anymore, who would talk with me for hours on end until sleep was the only thing I could do. One who gave me his honest opinion whether I liked it or not. He reminded me what kindness was, and for a moment, just a moment... I thought that just maybe, I might be worth a damn. And when I came back to his place, bruised and bleeding from another encounter with Mr. Former, he first told me, then pleaded with me, to go to the police. And when I refused, because "it wasn't that bad" he was angry with me, but respected me enough to allow me to make that choice.
That's what kindness is. That's what respect is.
Then next morning when I realized how much I hurt, bow I could barely move my arms, and saw how bad it looked... I finally went to the police, and was granted a restraining order the following Monday.
That's when I found out what relief was.
Over the next 7 months, I spent time with my rescuer, and my friends. My kids and I moved out of our old house. I went to court to fight for them, my restraining order, and won. I healed and grew a lot. Unsurprisingly, I fell pretty hard for that man. But he had told me in the beginning that he wasn't the father-type, and that was a deal-breaker for me. I still loved him though, as both my friend and rescuer. Never in my wildest dreams would I guess that he still had more to give me.
7 months after my escape, he introduced me to his friend. One he hasn't seen in years either. When my back was turned, he gave permission for his friend to pursue me, with the warning that he would likely be unsuccessful - because he knew I was pretty stuck on him. A few days later, he encouraged me in the same direction, saying he truly thought that we would be good together. He was right. A lot right.
4 months later, we decided to join our lives together. To see if we could be a couple, if he could go from being a bachelor to a father of three. In that year, I learned a lot about him, about me, and about us as a family.
The first thing I learned was that he put me and my well-being first, above everything all else. When I had to go to court for a custody hearing, I had to be in the same room as Mr. Former. Although I had to admit that I didn't think he was going to suddenly attack me in front of the bailiff, judge, and everyone else present, I had to admit that I was terrified. Terrified to the point where I couldn't help but slump against the wall and cry like a small girl who had to walk home in the dark without any light. He asked me once if I wanted him to go. Then immediately called into work, and told them he couldn't come in. He was my hero that day. And when I said that I couldn't ever repay him, and that I would give him anything, he only had to ask, he thought of one thing right away, as his price. "Don't ever tell me again that you don't deserve me. Don't say it. Don't think it. Because you do - and you need to realize that." And I cried again - because I *knew* was worthless, he'd had always told me so, from 16 all they way up til the end. And no matter how many times I'd been told by others that it simply wasn't true... I didn't believe it, not really. And in the brief span of this new relationship, I couldn't even count the number of times that I had told him how didn't deserve him. But I never said it again. And as I write this, I realize... I haven't thought that in a long, long time.
I deserve him. I do. Because a am a little bit of awesome. A little damaged, but yeah. Definitely a little bit of awesome. :) But more than anything else, I'm incredibly lucky. Not only lucky that all the little things that needed to happen did: like meeting up with my old friend, missing Ducal, Crown, and Coronet, dying my hair, being stuck on one guy, my date not showing up, nearly freezing to death the previous night, his wife leaving him, his incredibly foul disposition for the previous month, his invitation to March Drown at the last minute, finally making the last-minute decision to leave the house and have fun, the undeclared war between another girl and I, meeting two other female housemates that would come to be my closest friends, the fight that broke out in our encampment, being one of the verbal targets during said fight, the attitude of said female housemates deciding to get me to drink so I would forget about it, my attitude (as a direct result of said drinking), the scene I caused later on that same night, (again, as a direct result of said drinking), and finally, my name starting with a "D" and appearing right after a certain other girl's in my friend's facebook friends list.
A lot had to happen to get our relationship to kick-start, and while all that was certainly luck, the stars aligning, or pre-determination, (call it what you will) it all happened. And without one or two of these happenings... I don't know if us would have happened. But it did. We stood on that ship in Tahoe, and that same friend married us, saying those words making me his wife in both spirit and law. You know what? That is about fifty shades of awesome. But the million dollar question is why. Why do I love this man so much? Why do I feel I am so lucky to have him by my side in this life?
Because I have a partner in Warcraft, and between the two of us, practically nothing that stands before us can survive.
Because I have someone I can talk to, any time of the day.
Because I have someone who wants to stay home and curl up with me, because I'm worth the most valuable thing he has - his time.
Because I have someone who loves my kids, and is willing to put their needs before his own, and help me raise them right.
Because when I needed to dry my hair, he held the darn "on" button on the hotel hair dryer until I was finished. (Not many would, lol!)
Because I have an escort to Job's, DeMolay, and Eastern Star functions, and DAYMN does he look amazing in a suit & tie!
Because when we fight, he doesn't call me names or demean me. EVER.
Because he LIKES dressing up in his suit and tie.
Because if I ever need help with something, though he may grumble and complain, I know his answer will always be "Sure baby!" or "Yes, Dear." or "FINE! I'll do it!" depending on how much he doesn't want to. :)
Because all I have to do is mention Tahoe, and he'll throw me into the car and bee-line for it.
Because I know that if I want to play in the ocean, he'll take me to Big Sur if I ask. Because it has my forest, and his mountains, and it's GORGEOUS.
Because on movie nights, he loves that the 5 of us all curl up on one bed, puppy-pile style and watch. (As long as his back doesn't hurt.)
Because my IT guy always answers my call fast, and fixes it RIGHT.
Because he touches me. All the time. For no reason.
Because he's a Scadian, and will always take me to an event I want to go to, as long as there is money in the bank, and time on the books. :)
Because he loves my two fluffy furballs. :)
Because when he gets really mad and starts yelling, one mention of the codeword he and Jimmy made up (elephants) will stop lower the volume, and discussion can progress in a more calmer way.
Because he has started compensating for Mayfield time. (albeit grudgingly)
Because he knows when NOT to say something.
Because of random roses on Tuesdays.
Because he indulged me in every aspect of wedding planning. :)
Because when I want to drive, I get to drive. AND I can park on whichever side of the driveway I want. (I know that doesn't seem like a big deal to you, but it is for me!)
Because every once and awhile, when I see something I want, he'll tell me to get it, even when I protest, because I don't "need" it right then.
Because if one of my kids has an important event to attend, he'll be there. From the beginning, they've never had to ask, he always knew it was expected.
Because he listens to my stories, AND my opinions.
Because if I make a suggestion, he ALWAYS listens, and sometimes he takes it.
Because he finally gave Doctor Who a chance, and got as addicted as me!
Because he cares enough to tell my baby girl that her skirt is too short, and that she needs to go and change.
Because he's a good enough man that MY daughter will respect what he said, and not only change, but not wear the skirt ever again. (At least outside the house.)
Because he quit smoking, in part, because he knew I was so against it.
Because my parents are always welcome in our house.
Because he makes me laugh, all the time.
Because he makes me smile, all the time.
Because he tells me I'm beautiful, all the time.
Because he married me, even after I said he didn't need to.
Because he tells me how lucky he is to be with me, that I'm some sort of prize, and that he doesn't know what he did to deserve me.
So no, no, and no. That isn't any kind of abuse at all. Quite the opposite.
No, he isn't perfect, and lord knows, I'm not either. We argue and fight, but we never go to bed angry, because my grandparents told me we shouldn't. He tells me I'm wrong when I think I'm right. And we'll hash it out until someone concedes, or we agree to disagree. He doesn't always want to go out when I do, but then either talks me into staying, agrees to come along, or off I go on my own. If he has a good time, he admits it. If he doesn't, he tells me exactly why, and that's something to bear in mind for next time.
He's a good man, my Lauren. But what's most important is that I do deserve him. And you know what? I rather think he deserves me too. :)