When They Are Simply Trying To Steal Your Joy…
Forget being your fan. They’re your enemy, and probably your worst one.
Like a lot of women my age, I’ve survived a few relationships that toxic doesn’t begin to explain. If we’re being honest, they were abusive.
Today, I was reminded of the absolute bottom of the barrel, hands down, and if I told you he’s the worst person I’ve ever known in my life, it is the facts as I know them to be.
I’m asked frequently, “is this abuse?”, “Am I being abused?”, and “Does he know this is hurting me?” While this is fresh on my mind, I want to drop some specifics in case you’re one of those still wondering why the person you’re involved with is treating you so poorly.
Nothing I ever did was right.
Not an exaggeration. If I cooked, I baked instead of fried. If I napped, I missed a text that obviously was life altering. If I mopped the floor, I timed it incorrectly, causing him to walk all over it, literally like every tile.
I received an accolade. He doesn’t know how, because I sounded like a moron. I sold a column? He’s never heard of that media outlet. It’s too bad I’m not more like Johns’ wife, or Franks’ girl, they are the end all be all in their fields.
Not sometimes. Literally, every single time he spoke to me.
He pretended as though I didn’t exist anytime he wasn’t telling me I was inadequate.
Sitting in his car for hours, doing nothing. It was better than being around me. Out in the shed for hours. A place where he couldn’t hear me. Here, there, anywhere, so long as I wasn’t occupying that space.
As though the sight of me was so revolting. As though sharing the same oxygen with me was so taxing to his soul.
He badmouthed me, to pretty much everyone.
His family. Mutual friends. Neighbors. Passing town folk. Didn’t matter.
Once, a friend told me his exact words were, “do I love her? Shit, I don’t even like the bitch”.
He actively tried to ruin anything I found joy in.
It’s well known I listen to techno and cut a rug randomly while I work. Just a thing I do. Except it was ridiculous and a distraction to him, ruining his television watching, or game playing, or anything, really.
I cook because I like to. Better not though. I can’t do that right. Making a wreath? It looks terrible. Bathing the dog? I’m stressing the dog out with my lack of dog bathing skills.
Drilling and drilling and drilling until there was no possible way to enjoy even the most mundane tasks. Ironically, they were all that I had left.
I could have been a table lamp to him.
He didn’t see me. Didn’t notice anything about me. Didn’t care to know me. He already had me all figured out, so why be bothered with speaking to me?
Of course, we know now he was cheating, and with men, no less. To hear him tell it, though, that was due to me being an insufferable cunt. If only I had been better, it never would have happened. He would have been able to stand looking at me. Or so I have been informed, repeatedly.
He was never a fan.
Typically, I’m funny. A fan said once, “you came through it with cussedness and fortitude”. I usually do.
I couldn’t even get a half assed smile from him. I wasn’t funny. Not entertaining. Couldn’t tell a story. Just a lackluster beige.
Now, I liken it to him standing around with giant foam thumbs-down hands. He’s cheering for whoever my opponent is. That’s a guarantee.
If that’s what you feel like you have in your life, the thumbs-down, there isn’t any doubt. It is abuse. And years later, when I hear the past, it still stings like the words cut me.
A lot of times, we look for an escalation to occur, like it can’t be abuse if they don’t start smacking us around. False. It’s already abuse. Even if they never put a hand on you, they’re abusing you.
So, of course, I’ll add the purpose to the column now. If you’re being abused, or think you’re being abused, call 800–799-SAFE. They can help you find a way out.
If you’re not in the US, or feel you can’t call The Coalition for whatever reason, hit my logo on any platform you see my face. I’ll help you get some info, or work a plan with you, or just listen if you need me to. I got you, sis.
