Being in an abusive relationship is like being in a secret cell, invisible constraints around you all the time; as you smile at the cashier, as you drive to work, sing in church, talk on the phone. No one can see it, but once in a while, a sensitive individual can sense it in other ways. They don't believe the ever present smile. They can see the circles around the cheery eyes. The hunched shoulders seem more than just weary. The wounds are revealing themselves, even without showing bruises.
From the time I was 21 until I was almost 28 I was in an abusive relationship. My ex husband never beat me severely. His methods were far more subtle. It began while we were dating. He made suggestions that I needed to dress differently, wear a different purse, accessorize with more "class." These suggestions were met with gifts. Then there were other suggestions. Different haircut, hair color, tan. Then a big red flag: "You're practically my ideal girl! If only you were as into working out as I am. I know you must feel self-conscious next to me, with my obvious commitment to my health." I told myself the saddest lies. He cares about your health. He wants you to be your best self. He's only thinking about your overall happiness. He deserves someone better, but you can BE better. So I went from being a free spirit, in love with music and books and dancing and singing, to a very starchy, contained, ashamed individual with less fat, more muscle, darker skin, shorter/darker hair, more sensible handbag and shoes, smallish diamond earrings, large diamond ring; his wife.
Interestingly, no matter how much I changed it was never enough. My forehead, the sheer enormity of it, offended him. No one, not even my hypercritical teenage self, had ever noticed any abnormality about my face or any other part of my physical body. Suddenly my legs were "chicken legs" and my nose was "a beak" and my ankles were "thick." He wanted me to keep a certain look upon my face at all times. He didn't like my thinking face. It looked "ugly." He wanted me to hold my neck a certain way, my head, my jaw. My laugh wasn't feminine. My smile was too toothy. I started to rebel.
After I'd gained at least forty pounds, not consciously on purpose but I think using food as a drug, it was obvious my ex-husband was pretty unhappy. He had frequent spells of rage, throwing things, calling names, making threats. When I reacted in kind, destroying the Christmas tree I had put up by myself in response to his claim that he didn't have the money to buy me any presents that year after he had just spent over $1,000 on new sweaters and jeans for himself, he was really scared. What was this? She isn't rolling over and crying? She's actually getting mad. Really angry. Ripping off the ornaments like that and throwing them on the floor? This is different.
I wasn't sure how to feel when I discovered he was sleeping with a baseball bat at an arm's reach. On one hand it was amusing. He perceived ME as a threat? A little empowering. But on the other hand, I felt disgusted. Either he was prepared to beat me unconscious out of fear or out of rage. I'm literally stunned I wasn't more eager to get out of there. But that's that invisible cell. You're captive. And the bars aren't made of iron. They're made of more sinister things like ideas, thoughts about the dark and dreary future ALONE and unloved and unlovable; the narrative the abuser has gone over and over with you in subtle and then not so subtle ways. It's a systematic disassembly of a person. It starts pretty superficial; clothing, hair. Then it moves on to other things; skin, thighs, ankles; onto more meaningful things; the face, your thinking. Still deeper; your ideas, intentions, desires, abilities, talents, friendships, family, all your connections must be properly dealt with and distanced if not severed. He criticizes each of your friends, trying to get you to see how they are either hopelessly flawed or don't actually care for you. Can't you see how jealous she is? He is SO annoying! They don't really seem smart enough for you. There were all those lies and more. It's hard to lord over someone with allies. Best to brush them away as soon as possible. And if words didn't work, maybe actions would. So he starts being downright insufferable when friends are around. Complaining, being negative and rude, dismissive and unseemly in numerous ways. So the friends go. Why wouldn't they? And those who stay are confused. Why is she so tired all the time? She' become rather boring as a married lady. She's no fun anymore. And you wish you could explain but the words don't come out.
The dismantle continues. You had the gall to graduate with honors. He says It's because you chose such an easy major. Any dummy could make straight A's in education! Everyone knows that. You were offered an ideal job in an ideal school. We'll see how long it lasts. Besides, when I get into law school we'll have to move anyway. And so that's what you did. You had to move to Chicago because that's where he got into law school. So you've got to go, too. You go to career fairs, about 25 random schools in neighborhoods that scare you silly, and network with people you don't even know until you find a job. Someone's gatta pay the bills, you see. And that's been you since day one. Whenever money runs out, which is all the time, hubby calls his mama. All's right in a world where everything comes easy.
Uprooting is very very telling. When all you know is no where you can see, when everything familiar is removed, other things are easier to see. So, as you throw yourself into a new job at a new school in a new city where EVERYTHING is NOTHING like ANYTHING you've ever known, things get interesting. Just as the weather is harsh and nasty, so is the realization that you're whole life is a fallacy.
That Christmas he tells you about the girl he's accidentally fallen in love with at law school. Relief sweeps over you because you have a clear OUT and it isn't even your fault! In the eyes of God and your parents and the church and the neighbors and the friends, it is finally okay to leave! Finally!
It would take years to overcome and try and undo all the damage. There were bouts of incredible sorrow and deep regret; remorse even. You felt so deeply sorry for allowing such abuse to take place to begin with and felt confused at how and why it all happened without you're adamant protests. But that's the way it goes. Abuse is not always obvious and before you know what to do you're in the thick of it and it's swallowing you.
So, it took years to sort it all out. And I did eventually express all of this to my abuser. He had tried to patch things up a few times after the divorce. I finally told him all I really thought, and it felt good. If I could save one person from living with abuse I'd do all I could. Maybe that's why I'm writing this. I'd say, "Don't buy into his/her version of you! Don't forget who you are! Hold on to your friends! Listen to your family! Get out! Don't tell yourself you can't! Run!! Now!!!"
Today I'm as happy as I've ever been. I'm married to my best friend, someone who thinks I'm the bee's knees. We have a daughter who's as pretty as the morning and twice as bright. For the first time in my life I feel like life is just right. I wish I'd known a little sooner that life doesn't have to hurt all the time.
