Thursday, March 27, 2008

Madness is the gift that has been given to me...

I am feeling unable to focus on much of anything these days. I spend most of my work day reading blogs, trying to figure out whats going on in my head. Yes, I was beaten. Yes, I survived. Others have survived far, far worse abuse for much longer periods of time. Yet, I just have this clenching feeling in my belly all of the time. And I entertain these thoughts like maybe if we had gone to bed earlier that night, like HE wanted to, none of this would have happened. Or, if only I was able to love him like he needed me to, this would not have happened. And I know, I know it is all BS and he is the sick one, and it was going to keep on happening. But I cant shake this feeling of being disappointed in the fact that he is an abuser, and that it had to end this way... How sick is that?

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

All alone, I can't mend, But I feel, Tommorrow will be okay...

What to say, where to start? Do any of you really want to hear the gory details of how this bastard beat me? And I am capable of having to rehash it again? Probably no, and no, but for my own therapeutic reasons I am going to try to write it out, all of the red flags, all of the weird shit he expected of me, and how I, became a battered woman.

When I met him early on, we went out a few times before we spent the night together. I wasn't looking for a relationship and told him how broken I was and that he didn't want to sign up for me and my issues. The next day, I was a bit standoffish with him and he was all, "whats wrong? we just spent the most amazing night, why are you pulling back-like" How could I treat him this way, and was wrong with me that I could act so cold. Then it was all about the phone calls. Please call me later, be sure to call me as soon as you get in the car, as soon as you get home and I wasn't always available to talk because of my mommy responsibilities and what not and this became a bone of contentment.

Within 2, maybe 3 weeks of seeing each other, he was already proclaiming his undying love for me, he needed constant reassurance that he "mattered" to me. He needed and wanted to be important in my world. When we spent time together it was never enough. When I had to go home, he would become angry and sulky. Disappointed that I didn't feel the same about leaving him. That I clearly didn't love him as much as he loved me and if I did, I would blow off all of my responsibilities and spend more time with him. When I went out with friends, he would find emergent reasons to call me and keep me on the phone for the whole time I was out, then accuse me of making him look foolish in front of my friends. That I should be telling my friends how much I was in love with him and how important our relationship was to me, that it trumped all else. There was also constant warnings about not to speak to other men, because that would make me look like a whore, and how he "expected" that I would act appropriately as his "good little girl" and that he KNEW that I would not dare even wear something even remotely provocatively if I wasn't with him.

After I moved in my new house, he almost immediately moved himself in. The fights were usually over his jealous and insecure ways. I spent too much time talking with my mother, and in his opinion I don't let my mother know just how important he is too me, that he is the love of my life. He complained I did not show enough affection in front of others, meaning if my tongue wasn't down his throat I was being cold and distant and disrespectful. Every argument was the same, that I don't treat him with enough respect, how I make him look like a "chump" (does anyone even use that expression any more?) and that he was the best thing that has ever or will ever happen to me, and that I was going to loose him and I would be sorry for it. How I was going to end up an old lonely bitter woman. That I would soon loose my looks and no one would want me like he did.

He would often question me about my past relationships and marriage. Wanting to know why I stayed married so long if I was so unhappy. I mean, people, sometimes you just have to do what you have to do for whats best for everyone and I really couldn't understand why I had to constantly justify myself, and then he would insult me and say horrible things about me and how pathetic I was that I stayed with this man for so long, and then he would switch gears and insist that he bets that I stilled loved AH and that he is the one who left me and that I was a lying bitch, and how stupid I was for loving a man like that. Then he would imply that I was clearly the reason that my kid was an addict and the reason why my ex drank.

The first real sign that should have sent me running was when he was angry he would literally punch himself in the head, repeatedly. Sometimes with his fists, sometimes with a cell phone or with whatever he had in his hands. He once smashed my cell phone against his head when he saw that a male platonic friend had called me. I was then instructed to call said friend and tell him we were not going to be friends any longer, as he clearly only wanted to sleep with me. This friend will come up later in the story, but probably a post for another day. Does anyone out there have any opinion as to what this means? The head punching thing? I have tried to look it up but never found anything concrete.

He expected me to despise my ex and to cease any relationship with him or his family. He did not see any reason for us to communicate, and if for some reason I had to, it should be done in his presence and I should be nasty and hurtful to him. He did not like me to visit my Dad in the hospital, in case my x was up there visiting and insisted I wait for him to make these visits. This often resulted in much shorter visits than I preferred with my Dad and left me resentful and angry which would then set him off about how disrespectful I was. G-d forgive me if I said I instead of We. WE were a couple. It enraged him how I thought of myself as an individual and not as a part of him.

Another method of controlling me was through my sleep habits. I have always required a tremendous amount of sleep, and we would stay up late, and he would wake me when he got up for work, and then would call me and keep me on the phone talking to him because his commute was so long. I was mentally and physically exhausted all of the time, which I guess allowed him to continue to beat me down emotionally and give him more control. If I objected, he would make me feel awful, as we didn't get nearly enough alone time together and he really looked forward to our time alone late at night and early in the morning, and how I should really make more time for him in my life, if I loved him enough, I would feel the same way, after all he was tired too but suffered through it because of his love for me.

When we fought and argued, he would insult my friends, my family, my clothes and my job. He would stop at nothing to make me feel little and awful. He knew my weaknesses and preyed on them: my son's drug addiction, my mother's alcoholism, my body issues. When we weren't fighting he would say he only said these things in anger and to hurt me because I hurt him so deeply and often.

The initial signs of violence when we fought, he would become enraged and smashed a wine bottle across my kitchen, he smashed and broke my jewelry box, shredded lingerie that I bought to wear for him; because he wanted me to look sexy for him all the time. He has smashed my car windshield, kicked numerous dents into my car, thrown shit and dumped my belongings around my bedroom and home while packing his clothes up, torn down my closet organizers, spit on me, thrown phones, glasses, and other items across the room and into walls. He would dump the contents of my pocketbook on the floor looking for my keys or some other item. The last incident, he literally busted my bedroom door open to get at me to keep beating me.

Nothing I had or did was as good as something he had or had done. The carpentry work in my home was half assed. The cabinets were cheap and installed improperly. The tile work was clearly left over tile the previous owners bought at a fire sale. My backyard was pathetic and small. How could we live on such small lots and so close to our neighbors? My neighborhood was filled with wannabes. My job was a joke. My salary was pathetic.

The physical violence I endured, up to and including the final beating started with a smack across the face, being shoved a few times, being strangled so violently that I was in the air with my feet dangling, confident that I was going to die. Being dragged out of a restaurant by my hair, face smashed into the car door. When he hit, it was usually with a closed fist to the eye. The last beating included many, many closed fist punches to the face, him choking me, throwing me around and across the room, and a few shots to my ribs, that surprised my MD that they were not broken, just severely bruised as to this moment, I am still in pain, and if I sneeze, I still see stars.

But I am out now, I will get over this, it will take time, it is painful, but I will not be a victim any longer, I will not be afraid, and I am going forward with the charges. He is only being charged with 3 misdemeanors. I do not care, if at the bare minimum I leave a mark on his record, I will have prevailed and stood up for myself.

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

I'm broken, when I'm open...

Ok, Im back, with my tail between my legs. I'm just going to throw it out there...

I went back. Again. It was OK for almost two weeks. Last week. He BEAT me. Badly. My mother thankfully woke up and heard it and called the police and probably saved my life. He was arrested and arraigned and there is an order of protection in place. I am pressing charges to the fullest extent possible.

This picture should give you an idea of just how bad it was, this was taken yesterday, more than one week after the assault.

Stay with me people. I'm in a really bad place and I need to find myself again.