TRIGGER WARNING: This piece includes descriptions of physical violence within a domestic relationship, including emotional abuse and other narcissistic tactics.
I have a confession to make: I’ve been free of abuse for nearly a decade. It’s been nine years, to be exact. I have not had to fear for my life for quite a long time, and I cannot stop smiling about it. I have a body that he hasn’t touched, because I have previously read that cells totally regenerate every seven years. I am literally NOT the same person I was, inside and out.
You see, I nearly died on September 14, 2017. My then-husband had shot at me a few days prior, missing me. He then apologized, and I accepted that. Did you hear what I said? Accepted the apology that he missed unaliving me. Geez! How pathetic was I??? He then became enraged a few days later over a perceived slight and beat me in front of my youngest child. I sustained a mild traumatic brain injury, blood vessel damage around my throat, broken blood vessels in my eyes, and black and blue bruises all over. He went to jail. I spent the night in the ER. I cannot convey how much victims are groomed. Today, that is difficult to comprehend. But abuse does not begin with a gunshot. It happens gradually, teaching you to minimize the unforgivable until surviving it feels normal. I was not pathetic. I was conditioned, frightened, and doing what I had learned to do to survive.
This time, this incident was different. I was done. Like, done-DONE. I woke up after a few hours of exhausted sleep the day following to a local camera crew filming my house from the street and neighbors walking by and pointing. I had to appear in court and in front of my Abuser, God, and everyone else, to tell the judge that I “feared for my life and the lives of my children at the hands of the man I called my husband.” I could feel his piercing glare. The judge then asked me to point him out in the courtroom. I swiveled my chair around, looked him in the eye, and identified him. I do believe that was, and still is, the hardest thing that I have ever had to do. I might have looked calm and collected on the outside, but internally I was physically shaking like I was freezing. I had to say this in front of the monster that I had lived with and been married to for nearly twenty-six years, whom I realized in that moment had never really loved me. I was just a cute punching bag, an interactive household appliance that contributed to the bills and cared for the children. No wonder I was shaking…it was a cold, sobering truth, and I felt the revelation of its weight.
I started speaking about my experience, at the urging of my therapist, two weeks after it happened. He told me that the more I talked about it, the less of a grip it would have over my life. Bringing something into the light, that once loomed larger-than-life in the shadows, really makes that thing powerless. I decided that I would no longer make myself small to fit into spaces that did not make room for me. I was never considered. I built a life around a charlatan who made me doubt myself when I started to see what was going on. I had suppressed my own emotions so much, I had become oblivious to everything except surviving.
After some time of therapy and reflection, I started speaking on radio shows and podcasts, as well as writing about my experiences. I found that if I wrote about one aspect, one memory at a time, it was more bearable. Of course, I’d get the questions about “why did you stay?” “Why didn’t you just leave?” and my favorite, “what did you do to cause his anger?” That rates right up there with telling a sexual assault victim that she was assaulted because of what she was wearing. People ask survivors why they stayed, but rarely ask what the abuser did to make leaving feel impossible. Abuse changes your understanding of danger. You learn that resistance may make things worse, that apologies may buy temporary peace, and that leaving can be the most dangerous moment of all. I did not remain because I enjoyed being hurt or lacked intelligence. I remained because fear, hope, conditioning, finances, children, and survival are far more complicated than outsiders want them to be.
I used to think domestic abuse was a mental imbalance, that the abuser couldn’t help it because they had been somehow abused themselves. Now, I feel as though I know better. Abusers know exactly what they’re doing and when and where they can abuse, and where they show their best and most gracious behaviors. It’s not a compulsion; it’s a calculated deception. They can turn these attitudes and behaviors on and off like a light switch. Abusers don’t even like themselves, so they choose violence and chaos to soothe their own souls and existences. They are unhinged and derive pleasure from others looking crazier than they know that they actually are themselves.
Despite abusers knowing how crazy they can be, I feel as though they also gain some satisfaction in gaslighting those of us who have been their victims – then watch us beat ourselves up like masochists trying to prove that we are NOT crazy. This really only makes us crazier, in my humble opinion. They make us doubt our own truths, what we know happened, and what kind of people we know we are, until we no longer recognize ourselves. We abandon our friends and family members, our hobbies, and our activities. Once they strip us of our personalities, we are now moldable and malleable like clay to mold into what they selfishly want us to be.
It’s taken me a long way to get back to where I feel like me and to like myself again. Feeling “normal” isn’t really a thing. Feeling “safe” is a better place to be when you’ve been victimized. We have to unlearn unhealthy coping mechanisms from when we were in “survival mode.” We have to re-establish “me time,” which was denied us before. We have to re-immerse ourselves in books and music and movies and life, in order to re-ignite our lust for living – not just existing in space and time.
I did learn some valuable things about living in abuse and then having to re-connect with the world as I healed:
* I still shut down when being yelled at by another person. I am quiet, and I emotionally check out. Then I remove myself from this situation.
* I let others’ actions speak louder than their words.
* I do not mess with other people’s “free will.” I will not beg someone to be in my life or show up for me how I need them to – I let people show me who they are, and I decide if they will stay in my life and eat at my table. If not, I wish them well – elsewhere.
* I do not apologize for who I am. I am unapologetically myself.
* I will always help others, as I have been helped in the past. No one can do everything alone. I will continue to “be the good.”
* I give fair warning – once.
* When people try to insult or belittle me, I ask them if they meant to be hurtful. I no longer just let things like that go and smile politely. I call it out.
* There is a time for activities and doing things with others and a time for solitude. I dearly love my solitude, but will not isolate myself for too long because I know that can be unhealthy.
* I separate myself from the world when I am overstimulated. This usually involves enfolding myself in a blanket and a book or putting earbuds in and listening to music. This is how I recharge.
* Crowds are tolerable as long as I can ground myself in reality. I always look for ways out (escape routes), even when I am safe, as a way to continue to feel safe. This also keeps me innately aware of my surroundings. Never become complacent.
* I rub my thumb and forefinger as a way to soothe myself. I’m not sure why it works for me, but it does. I did it in abuse to calm my heart rate, and I do it for the same reasons now.
* I tell my people that I love them. Sometimes I probably make it weird, but I don’t mean to. You never know when it could be your last time to do so.
* If I see something, I say something – right then and there. I have called the police to protect someone I didn’t know, and I have confronted people in public about their behavior when others simply walk by, ignoring the situation and not making eye contact.
* If you are struggling, I will always listen. I am not simply asking if you are alright to be polite. If you need help, I will help you to the best of my ability.
If you or anyone you love is in active abuse, please reach out to someone you trust. The [US] Domestic Violence Hotline is available at 1-800-799-SAFE (7233). If there is an extended wait time, most states have their own DV hotlines also. 9-1-1 is ALWAYS an option in an emergency. ALWAYS. Be safe! Love and light!
This was written by our assistant editor, Laura Moseley.
Image Source: Pexels, engin akyurt
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