Thank you for that.
It means a lot. It really does. Any act of kindness means so much to me because of the sheer remarkableness of it to me.
It’s just one of those things that never changes. There really isn’t anything left to say or do that can make it different . The only thing that could’ve helped me is past and I’m left with the only thing that did. Time.
Actually no. What is really helpful is being validated , is being supported, is watching men be kind , is watching men really respect women, their bodies and their souls, is watching them not tolerate abusers . Because these men think they are macho, think they are manly men. Only other men condemning them could possibly get through to them.
Abuse is so so much more than violence. So much more. In fact I think there are a lot of relationships with men and women that are wild and crazy and they get into huge fights both of them, that is not domestic violence.
Domestic violence is psychological. Domestic violence is fear, every moment of every day. Domestic violence is living with total insanity. Domestic violence is a head job. First and foremost.
It’s a man saying I yelled at him when I didn’t. It’s a man saying I called him a name when I asked him to take out the trash. Domestic violence is living with a hyper sensitive psychopath who treats people like they are punching bags.
Domestic violence is someone beating the shit out of you for not folding the jeans right.
That’s the biggest misconception. That there is an argument, that it’s a fight. That the woman is part of the equation.
He beat me because I changed the channel that day. Because he was watching a show and when the commercials came on and he got up to pee, I channel surfed.
It makes no sense. They get mad at you- and when I say mad, I mean abuse, I mean being screamed at and beat and called names and cupboards with holes in them because he is punching them. They do these things over nothing.
Nothing at all
Accidents. Like forgetting the sugar at the store. Like not hanging a towel up. Not cooking the meat right. Like parking the car “wrong”. Or taking a picture. Saying hello to a friend. Attending a birthday party. I could go on. But I was abused for all those things.
It’s starting to talk and having a 6'4 man shove his chest in your face and raise his hand to hit you.
It’s taking reality and bending it into a pretzel.
Meanwhile they get every excuse in the world. They do things daily that they would kill you for.
It’s so much more than violence.
I can’t explain what it’s like to live with an abuser. To live in complete insanity. Evil.
One time he almost killed me because the baby had macaroni in her diaper ( she had just eaten lunch)
A doctor told me when a woman starts to fight back and when she starts wanting to kill him in his sleep that’s when she has Battered Women’s Syndrome. PTSD.
You get this rage. This unbelievable rage.
I started day dreaming about beating his head in with a baseball bat. My daughter told me she did too.
Even that, is a way he abused us . Because that’s not who we are. Because we don’t like violence. Because we hate that shit. But he forced us to become something we were not.
We need more education because even the information out there is misleading and insufficient.
I have wanted to die more than I’ve wanted to be alive. And the one thing that got me through, it was like a light in the darkness, it was human kindness. I would look for it everywhere, because it was the only thing that reminded me of what life could be like, what life truly was. It was my lighthouse.
When I find it I treasure it to this day. I would write it down in a notebook. Because it’s the most beautiful thing.
He said he was here for me and would listen.
That’s amazing. Thank you.