Verbal abuse is not just the words used.
It’s the tone, the sentence, the paragraph in entirety. The immediate environment, and energy of the person. I spent a lot of my time feeling scared. Sitting paralyzed, because I was scared to brush my teeth, but scared to not brush my teeth. I was scared to clean the bathroom, because I had already done it that week, scared to have to pee… scared to eat. I remember often going all day without eating, simply because I was scared of how he would react. I was scared of everything, and I thought it was just me. I now realize I wasn’t me, that I am actually pretty brave, like to take a bit of a risk, and am confident in my decisions.
In general, I am a very forgiving person. It’s likely one of the reasons why I stayed for so long. I always knew he was dealing with high enxiety and depression. I always realized that most of his actions were not really him, and that he had very little control over them. So I took on the responsibility. It was a huge stresser for me as well, but I didn’t realize that at the moment, I thought I’d be able to handle it. I just wanted to help him. I had the constant feeling that if I was just a little nicer to him he would see it, if I showed him what real love was then he would see it, learn it and start treating me better. I would be the example, and I wouldn’t be like everyone else who just abandoned him.
I didn’t realize until it was almost too late, that I lost a lot of myself doing that. It wouldn’t have mattered what I did, or what I said. I could be the nicest, friendliest person to him, or I could be a bitch, and constantly say mean things. It wouldn’t have mattered. I couldn’t help him. I still can’t help him.
Now that I am disconnected, I see what it was, what it is.
When I met him, I let him in because I was vulnerable. I was hurting, and my heart and soul were in pain. I had just dealt with my 5th miscarriage and my marriage was over. His dominance was attractive, because I didn’t ever have to make a decision. In the beginning it felt like a relieve to me. But while trying to regain my strength from my own tragedies, instead of using it to heal my wounds, my energy went into his.
I remember early on, before we ever started dating, I was sitting in my truck in front of his place shaking, not knowing what to do. He was in the garage threatening suicide, and told me to not call the cops. I couldn’t do nothing, so I called the local suicide hotline. I needed help, feeling so helpless, I didn’t know what else to do. Just knowing he was in there by himself, ready to kill his own breath, and I was the only other person who knew about it, and it was too much for me to handle on my own. So I gave the person on the phone his phone number, and they called him. In hindsight, I still think I did the right thing to do. Well, maybe I should have just called the cops, but at least someone else knew about it. He called me immedietly and lost it on me. Called me names, made me feel smaller then an ant. I felt horrible, bad for what I did even if it was the right thing. So instead of pulling away, I drew myself closer to him, thinking that I was the only person that could help him. I stopped talking to my friends and family because I didn’t want them to see it, I didn’t want them to see him.
It was a wild ride after that. We had a few good moment, but for the next two, almost three years, it was only my solitude strength that held me together. Every time he would call me names and then apologize, or make me feel as small as an aphid, my fragile strength grew weaker, until I started to believe everything he was telling me. Maybe I was a cunt, and a piece of shit that couldn’t ever do the right thing. I started hiding within myself, hiding my talents, and keeping myself a secret. It was the only way I could survive.
So even now, I know most of his actions were caused by anxiety and depression. Pressured speech, being trapped in his own mind, but it doesn’t matter. It would have been easier to heal if he would have taken a hammer and broken all of my bones. His actions, his words penetrated my heart, my soul, my creative power. Now the people around also suffer, because I still hide part of me away, just waiting for the next blow. Still expecting that it will all be derailed.
I still have not forgiven him, and I hold a lot of anger for him. He is persistent, and even though now on medication, insists that he is miraculously healed, and we are meant to be together. All I can see in my mind though are the accusing eyes, and the tone of voice that has said so many times, ” You stupid cunt, maybe you should think next time”. How do you forgive someone who took your soul, your creative power away?
It might be a bit unorthodox, but I thought I would share his words. It doesn’t make it alright, and it doesn’t make it easier to forgive him, but now you have his side of the story. The cycle remains the same, however, as just last week he sent me alarming texts, saying he wasn’t sure what was he was going to do. That I was the only one to understand, and that he needed to talk to me immedietly. I wasn’t responding to any previous texts, so maybe he thought if he threatened his life or well being again, I would once again give him my energy. Feeling the strength of what Hawaii has offered me, I quickly blocked his address, and went back to the coffee field to work.
He asked me to share his words, I have not changed a single one. It is copy and pasted from my email.
“What does suicide mean to you? How does your own thoughts of suicide appear?
My suicide attempts was always not to hurt anyone, it was to hurt myself. For 28 years and 6 months, I have been trapped, trapped in my own mind. At the age of 13 I came up with the nick name for my self and that was “the slave driver” it wasn’t until 3 weeks ago that I truly understand why I gave myself that name. I always knew/felt that I was a slave to my own mind. Everything in my life was opposite, from hating a song, to ending up enjoying it, say no to an event or concert, while deep down inside I was screaming yes. This for of mental trap created me to believe at one point that I could predict the future. Anxiety which I never understood as no one ever explained the feeling, this lead me to believe that when I got this “feeling” I sensed something bad was going to happen, and sure enough something bad would happen. I remember my whole life having such “spaz attacks, tantrums, childish out bursts” the frustration that would build up in my mind would push to to a point where fight or flight would kick in and I would loose my shit. In my mind I would tell my self, do not panic, do not freak out, there is no reason, yet I never had the strength to control my bodies feeling or reactions. It felt like I was watching a horror movie and no matter how much I yell at the actor in the tv screen, the actor never listened and would still walk into trouble. That was me watching my life through my eyes, my brain saying the right things, yet my mouth would not say the words my brain would say, my body would not respond to way my brain was telling my body to respond. My brain knows I am weak, I accept that I am weak, my body expresses strength, my words express intimidation. From what’s inside is opposite of what outside. That used to make me so angry, I never understood why there was such a difference. This mental trap I have been in has helped me ruin my life. There were 2 only 2 reasons why I ever wanted or Attempted to suicide for, one was I wanted to escape this cycle of not being able to be who I truly am, second reason was, I never ever wanted to watch my self hurt anyone ever again!
The last 28 years and 6 months, I have not been me, I have been able to express my own real emotions. I feel that I was truly watching my life through a window, without anyone being able to see me or hear me, only this replication of me, the opposite of me. Every birthday and every holiday I would feel emotions so strong, I would get sick, I would want to enjoy the time, yet the feeling and emotions running through my body would create confusion in my brain and then I would react in a scared, angry, confused way, I would begin to hate myself for the way I felt, I crest such problems that I eventually started to avoid birthdays, holidays and other family gatherings. Then the next birthday, I would do everything to avoid everyone as my emotions would blow up and I would start to hate myself for not being able to be normal and enjoy my birthday, Christmas etc, that’s when the suicide would start. In a sense I would do it for attention like a cry for help, most of all I wanted to self hate to stop, I want the emotions I was feeling to stop.
Since on the meds, my appetite has changed, the foods I used to dislike (mushrooms, spinach, fried onions, etc) I now enjoy more than ever. I still enjoy the old foods that I used to like.
Sexual thoughts and behaviors have changed drastically and has become minimal, I no longer stare/gawk at women’s bodies, or have inappropriate comments with in my own mind or to others, I am more focused on what I deem as normal compared to the past. I no longer masturbate every morning (which I did for atleast 10+years) and I no longer watch porn nearly as often as I used to and when I do its different, more appropriate and respectful compared to before.
The way I interact with strangers is more direct, I hold accept able eye contact and am more open to listening and processing before responding. I find I give more of a positive response when talking. I am able to now sit and not be frigidity or impatient. I am alot more interactive in the the things I want to do where before I would only bicker and complain. All the previous opposites in my mind are all now on the same level as everything else. I like the things i like and dislike the things that I actually dislike, where the past I would dislike because the anxiety and pressured speech was so strong that I dislike stuff for absolutely no reason. I disliked it because I liked it (yeah messed up). I no longer talk to others and lecture or criticize the things about them or their bodies or their actions.
I now have a roommate that is someone that in the past I wouldn’t even bat an eye to mentally destroy and the things he says are the types of things I would just tear apart. He is a womanizer, alcoholic, country kid, juice head gym guy, He is the epitome of who I would never associate with, not in a million years, yet with the meds removing the bullshit from my brain, I actually listen to him talk, provide positive feed back when he asks for it, otherwise I am very clear thinking and not bothered by him. His bs does not phase me at all and that is a massive difference from the past. When I moved in we had a talk, he said bluntly “Be aware, I am a pretty douchey and sleazy!” My response was “Thats ok, you seem confident in the path you have chosen, who am I to judge…As long you do not involve me or make it personal to me, I could care less. I will let you know when you cross the boundary, or if you get close to it. Otherwise enjoy life!” . My overall tolerance to what I used to call stupidity is not bothersome to me at all.
It is such a change and a warm welcomed change to finally feel the way I feel, Think the way I think, be the me I have fought so hard to be. Dont believe me, its ok, I am ok with what ever you believe.
Looking at the past, I now clearly see the disrespect that I had displayed to the general public including Wendy and am blown away about how blinded the anxiety had me. I look back and realize the pain that I caused Wendy and strangers. These feeling of realization are the new back bone to wanting to change also the sick feeling of suicide. (not going to commit suicide yet the feelings I feel from the harm I caused sparks the thoughts of suicide!)
I have questioned my self, is this because wendy is not in my life at this moment? is it because life has changed? NOPE NOPE NOPE!
It is because of the medication. This is me, My name is David and I am proud so say I am here to stay, no more unnecessary anxiety, no more bullshit of the past,I have too much life to live!