Tag Archive | trust

This Is Why I Didn’t Tell You He Was Beating Me

As I read this article, almost every sentence rang true. Memories were jumping up at me, reminding me of the shame I felt and the excuses I used. Although, I’m not sure that I could ever say for sure that any of my friends felt the way this woman assumes her friend felt. Maybe now but not back then.

I know for sure one of my friends that I’ve known for as long as I can remember knew about the abuse. She even mentioned it in a letter she wrote me during one of our own disagreements. She matter-of-factly threw it in my face. Not once did she seem concerned and if she ever was, she never showed it. Not once did she ever offer sympathy or a shoulder to lean on or verbalize that if there was anything she could do to help to let her know. Never. Just her one statement.

Would I have accepted help? Doubtfully. I was so caught up in the fear of the wrath my abuser would unleash at the mere possibility of my leaving. Any devastation caused by his hands would surely be on my hands. That is a big part of why I stayed put for so long. I figured, I knew how to handle him. I knew what angered him. In other words, I knew how to play the game. If I could keep him at bay then everyone else around me had no need to get involved.

However, a few years later, when I left to go to the women’s shelter – and subsequently left there the same night – I had called her. She and her boyfriend took the 3 hour drive to come and get me and my daughter. No questions asked. I stayed with them that night and returned home the next day. After that, things went back to normal and nothing was ever mentioned again. My abuser had no idea where I went or that they had helped me in any way. I’m sure she was not too happy with my decision but she didn’t say it. Needless to say, our friendship eventually drifted apart. Last we spoke was about ten years ago.

Little did I know that all these years later I’d be sharing my story or that I’d be okay with (some) of my own personal friends knowing the hell I’ve been through. I sometimes think about my friend and letting her read this blog. I’m sure she didn’t know the extent of the nonsense that was going on. So at the very least, it would explain some of my behavior.

For those of us that have been involved in a Domestic Violence situation, most of our behavior can be explained in this one article…

This Is Why I Didn’t Tell You He Was Beating Me
Originally posted in Dame Magazine

Written by Janice Fuller-Roberts

When I fled my abusive relationship for the last time (yes, I left and went back), one of the first things my well-meaning friends and family asked was why I never told them what was happening to me.

“Why didn’t you say something,” they’d ask, looking concerned and confused. “I could have helped you. I could have done something!”

And I believe them. Had they known how horrible my life had become, I have no doubt that they would have done their best to help me. But all this happened more than twenty years ago. Today, I’m healed, emotionally healthy, and over it—and have the clarity of hindsight to see that my friends and family would have helped me.

Read the full article here: http://www.damemagazine.com/2014/10/29/why-i-didnt-tell-you-he-was-beating-me#sthash.QilhzgKD.dpuf

Domestic Violence victim regrets registering to vote after address posted on web

Nov4

Something to Think About

On this Election Day, while preparing to go flex my suffrage muscles, a right that was finally institutionalized after years of protest by women who refused to take no for an answer, I came across this article. It reminded me that although the 19th Amendment grants all American women the right to vote, there are so many other rights we are not guaranteed. The right to privacy being one.

With my brain working overtime in how to stay off the grid once I leave, I’m grateful that I came across this article. It goes to show you can never be 100% sure your information is not floating around out there, most especially in this digital era.

For Domestic Violence survivors who are already living a peaceful and serene life, and for those to follow in your footsteps, being hyper-vigilant about your safety is never off the table.

31 Facts in 31 Days – Day 16

Oct16

The Silent Abuser
Not all emotional abuse involves shouting or criticism. More common forms are “disengaging” – the distracted or preoccupied spouse – or “stonewalling” – the spouse who refuses to accept anyone else’s perspective.

While verbal abuse and other forms of emotional abuse can be roughly equal between men and women, stonewallers are almost exclusively male. Biology and social conditioning make it is easier for men to turn off emotions. The corpus callosum – the part of the brain that connects its two hemispheres is smaller in men, making it easier for them to shut out information from the emotionally-oriented right hemisphere. On top of that slight biological difference, social conditioning promotes the analytical, unemotional male on the one hand or the strong silent type on the other.

The partner who stonewalls may not overtly put you down. Nevertheless, he punishes you for disagreeing with him by refusing even to think about your perspective. If he listens at all, he does so dismissively or impatiently.

The disengaging husband says, “Do whatever you want, just leave me alone.” He is often a workaholic, couch potato, womanizer, or obsessive about sports or some other activity. He tries to deal with his inadequacy about relationships by simply by not trying – no attempt means no failure.

Harmful Adaptations to Anger and Abuse: Walking on Eggshells
The most insidious aspect of abuse is not the obvious nervous reactions to shouting, name-calling, criticism or other demeaning behavior. It’s the adaptations you make to try to prevent those painful episodes. You walk on eggshells to keep the peace or a semblance of connection.

Women are especially vulnerable to the negative effects of walking on eggshells due to their greater vulnerability to anxiety. Many brave women engage in constant self-editing and self-criticism to keep from “pushing his buttons.” Emotionally abused women can second guess themselves so much that they feel as though they have lost themselves in a deep hole.

Recovery from walking on eggshells requires removing focus from repair of your relationship and your partner and placing it squarely on your personal healing. The good news is that the most powerful form of healing comes from within you. You can draw on your great inner resources by reintegrating your deepest values into your everyday sense of self. This will make you feel more valuable, confident, and powerful, regardless of what your partner does.

FACT: When it comes to the more severe forms of destructiveness, purely emotional abuse is usually more psychologically harmful than physical abuse. There are a couple of reasons for this. Even in the most violent families, the incidents tend to be cyclical. Early in the abuse cycle, a violent outburst is followed by a honeymoon period of remorse, attention, affection, and generosity, but not genuine compassion. (The honeymoon stage eventually ends, as the victim begins to say, “Never mind the damn flowers, just stop hitting me!”) Emotional abuse, on the other hand, tends to happen every day. So the effects are more harmful because they’re so frequent.

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Fact Source: Compassion Power

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To read from the beginning… #MyStory starts here.

31 Facts in 31 Days – Day 10

Oct10

Jealousy was the very first trait of abuse I was exposed to by my abuser. It was severe and I didn’t understand why at the time. I’ve always been more comfortable around men. I think I get along better with men because I can be myself, as women seem to be much more judgmental and catty. During my teenage years, I had a different type of attention from the guys. They didn’t all just – want to be “friends”. So it goes without saying that it was hard for me to maneuver through those years, that are difficult enough trying to figure out who you are as a person, and then on top of that trying to ward off people who only wanted one thing.

Luckily, I had a group of guys I could rely on for friendship. Whether they felt a certain way or not, it was not discussed, and these friendships remained intact from grade school through high school – that is until I ended up with Mr. Jealousy. After that, most friendships ended (male & female) and everyone was suspect. Some guys gave a peck on the cheek hello which made him furious, and he demanded it stop. Hanging out also stopped. It was no longer necessary being as my time was now to be exclusive to one person. As the years went on, any man I spoke to, whether it be at work or at a supermarket, gave way to me being questioned. Did I ever date them? Did I ever sleep with them? Am I currently sleeping with them? The barrage of questions was never ending. And no answer was believed.

Be warned…what may start off as cute “aw, he’s jealous” will without a doubt turn into a psychotic unrelenting abnormal hail of bullshit.

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Fact Source: Beauty Cares

Follow them on Twitter.

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To read from the beginning… #MyStory starts here.

31 Facts in 31 Days – Day 8

Oct8

Today’s post is meant specifically for a friend of mine. Someone I let in on my secret life earlier this year. We’ve only known each other for about 10 years which, out of the 6 people I’ve let read my blog, is the shortest relationship of the bunch. When we met, there was, I think, an instant connection. A mutual respect, as mothers and as women. It wasn’t until a few years into knowing each other that we really began talking about our lives. There are many similarities (except the abuse) that we came to discover about one another and the paths our lives took. I think this helped nurture our friendship and now I can’t imagine not having her in my life. I think we’ve both known for quite a while now that our paths were definitely meant to cross.

She is a beautiful and intelligent woman – but even the best of us get duped.

10 signs for spotting a sociopath

#1) Sociopaths are charming. Sociopaths have high charisma and tend to attract a following just because people want to be around them. They have a “glow” about them that attracts people who typically seek guidance or direction. They often appear to be sexy or have a strong sexual attraction. Not all sexy people are sociopaths, obviously, but watch out for over-the-top sexual appetites and weird fetishes.

#2) Sociopaths are more spontaneous and intense than other people. They tend to do bizarre, sometimes erratic things that most regular people wouldn’t do. They are unbound by normal social contracts. Their behavior often seems irrational or extremely risky.

#3) Sociopaths are incapable of feeling shame, guilt or remorse. Their brains simply lack the circuitry to process such emotions. This allows them to betray people, threaten people or harm people without giving it a second thought. They pursue any action that serves their own self interest even if it seriously harms others. This is why you will find many very “successful” sociopaths in high levels of government, in any nation.

#4) Sociopaths invent outrageous lies about their experiences. They wildly exaggerate things to the point of absurdity, but when they describe it to you in a storytelling format, for some reason it sounds believable at the time.

#5) Sociopaths seek to dominate others and “win” at all costs. They hate to lose any argument or fight and will viciously defend their web of lies, even to the point of logical absurdity.

#6) Sociopaths tend to be highly intelligent, but they use their brainpower to deceive others rather than empower them. Their high IQs often makes them dangerous. This is why many of the best-known serial killers who successfully evaded law enforcement were sociopaths.

#7) Sociopaths are incapable of love and are entirely self-serving. They may feign love or compassion in order to get what they want, but they don’t actually FEEL love in the way that you or I do.

#8) Sociopaths speak poetically. They are master wordsmiths, able to deliver a running “stream of consciousness” monologue that is both intriguing and hypnotic. They are expert storytellers and even poets. As a great example of this in action, watch this interview of Charles Manson on YouTube.

#9) Sociopaths never apologize. They are never wrong. They never feel guilt. They can never apologize. Even if shown proof that they were wrong, they will refuse to apologize and instead go on the attack.

#10) Sociopaths are delusional and literally believe that what they say becomes truth merely because they say it! Charles Manson, the sociopathic murderer, is famous for saying, “I’ve never killed anyone! I don’t need to kill anyone! I THINK it! I have it HERE! (Pointing to his temple.) I don’t need to live in this physical realm…”

FACT: The best way of handling a sociopath is to get them out of your life for good. Do not forgive them for the wrongs they have done to you. Avoid finding a reason to tolerate their company again. This is easier said than done when the sociopath is a family member, or long time friend. You may even miss the sociopath to some extent, even though they have hurt you. Yet if you know a sociopath, the only way of protecting yourself is to avoid them completely, even if it hurts.

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Fact Source: Natural News

Fact Source: HubPages

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To read from the beginning… #MyStory starts here.

31 Facts in 31 Days – Day 7

Oct7

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Fact Source: Beauty Cares

Follow them on Twitter.

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To read from the beginning… #MyStory starts here.

Life and Death

Jun17

Yesterday, one of my daughter’s friends committed suicide. She was 20 years old, a beautiful young lady with many friends and a whole lifetime ahead of her. The thing is, even with all those friends and the smile that was always on her face, no one has a clue as to why she would do something like this. As far as they’re all piecing together, there was no depression, no break-up, nothing that would seem like such a heavy burden that she’d have nowhere else to turn. Her friends and family are in shock. All questions may inevitably go unanswered. The only thing that can be established is that something was troubling her. On her last night with friends she commented — I think I need to make an appointment with a doctor because I feel like killing myself. In the morning, she was gone.

This is the first close friend my daughter has lost — and in such a tragic and meaningless way. At her age, I had already lost three friends. Two in car accidents and one was murdered. All so young, and also meaningless deaths in events that may possibly have been able to be avoided but who really knows. Maybe it is every bit true that when your time is up…it’s up.

This event has me in a strange place. Maybe because of how young this girl was or maybe because she lived on the same block I did when I first got married. I lived there at the same age that this girl was when she took her last breath. All I can seem to think about is when I was her age…I too wanted to die. The early years in my marriage were more than I could handle at times and I thought about it. Even though those thoughts crossed my mind -often- I could never really go through with it. After all, I was already a mother. What would happen to my child if I was not there?

Since in my heart I knew I could never pull it off, I would pray. Pray that my husband would hit me so hard in the wrong spot or that he’d make good on his threats of stabbing or shooting me to death. I was hopeless. I was helpless. I was desperate. If I did not have the courage enough to get up and get out and had no help from my parents or anyone else, then why not just pray for death? What would have been so bad? It would have been just another – too young, too soon – tragic story. I would have been mourned and life would have continued on without me…without me being abused.

No one knows this but…I tried. From memory, I think it was only twice. Stupid things that would not have done anything – which did not do anything – but to a 20 year old the possibility was there. I remember taking several Tylenol or Ibuprofen or Motrin or Naproxen, I can’t even remember which. Nothing strong enough to do any real damage but I didn’t know that at the time. Another time, I took his belt and wrapped it around my neck and pulled. Hard. I guess I thought I could choke myself that way? Who the hell knows what I was thinking.

I longed for death but didn’t want it to be painful. Go figure. I could take the punches of a man who hit me like he was fighting another man in the street but I couldn’t slit my own wrists. Plus, really…slitting my wrists? That is so “suicidal” and I was above that. I had a real reason for wanting to give up. Not just teenage drama that I was too scared to tell my parents about. For God’s sake, I was being fucking beaten, whipped, spit on, tormented and tortured. With no possible end in sight …who wouldn’t pray for death? Plus, I thought about my ex. It was bad enough I left him broken but if I killed myself or allowed myself to get killed it would send him over the edge. I could never forgive myself for hurting him in that way.

Once I realized I could never really go through with it, I turned on myself. I blamed myself for making the horrific decision of leaving the love of my life and going with someone who abused me. So when he was done doing his best to bruise my body, I’d go into the bathroom and run the water…because he ~~wanted~~ ordered me to soak my rapidly color changing welts under the cold water. I’d turn the tub and sink faucets on full blast so he couldn’t hear and…attack myself. If I could take his hits, surely I could take my own. So, I hit myself…on the head, face, arms, stomach and legs…pretty hard, for self infliction. I’m not exactly sure what my logic was. What was I accomplishing? It was just a way of me punishing myself – for leaving my ex and for not leaving the abuse. Then I’d just curl up on the floor and cry. Sobbing…I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Less sorry to myself and more sorry to my ex. This was about the time I decided to suck it up, take my medicine and survive until I was able to make it out.

What is my point in telling this part of my story? Like everything else I have written about, I need to let it go. Get it off of my chest… off of my back…out of my mind. Throw it away into the universe. I don’t want it anymore. I’m not that person anymore. I won’t lie and say in all these years the same thoughts haven’t crept up on me, they have. But I am very, very far from that desperate 20 year old that prayed for death. My life was so filled with my own drama that no one knew about at the time (at least not that I’m aware of), I couldn’t imagine any other way to free myself from it.

Again, my thoughts turn to my daughter’s friend. What in the world could she have been going through that she would contemplate and inevitably – whether on purpose or accidentally – follow through with her ideations of suicide? I can’t imagine it was something like I was going through. If not abuse, what? Did she flunk out of school? Did she get fired from her job? Did she get pregnant? Was she in the closet about her sexuality? Was she raped? Did she truly believe that there was something so devastating going on in her life that there was absolutely no one she could turn to? How desperately tragic. If she only knew…everyone that knew her sat vigil in front of her house last night. Everyone is posting pictures of them with her on her Facebook page. Everyone is calling her a beautiful angel. She will never know how many people really, truly loved her.

For some reason this poor little girl is gone. For some reason I am still here. Funnily enough, I no longer pray for death. Instead, I pray for life. I pray for me to calmly and rationally finish this chapter of my life so I can move on to better days. I am still alive.

My 20 year old self would have never believed it but today, in the matter of life and death…amazingly, I choose life.

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To read from the beginning… my story starts here.

Shame On You

Jun15

Since coming out as a victim of domestic violence nine months ago, one of the most important things I have learned is that the shame of it all is not mine. Instead, the shame is my abuser’s cross to bear. The first time it was said to me, it was like a veil was lifted. I had never thought about my situation in this light before. Even still, it took me a few days to really consume the words. They made sense but I didn’t recognize how I could not hold some blame. After all, I stayed. Surely, there is some shame to be held against me for that. At least I thought so.

These are the words a friend, one of the first few to read my story, said to me:

“The more people you let in the more you free yourself. The shame is on -your husband- not you!”

When thinking back on all the screaming and fighting that has gone over the years, one thing my husband always threw in to the arguments was that he would get louder on purpose so that everyone could hear him. He said this way the next time I went outside I would be embarrassed in front of all the neighbors. It’s funny though, I don’t think I was ever embarrassed. I would walk out of my house as if nothing ever happened. Most likely I was in denial. I may have even imagined that no one really heard us arguing or him screaming at the top of his lungs or my shrieks of pain each time a part of my body connected with his fist.

However, if I am being honest, in some ways I felt like I helped to perpetuate this lifestyle – by acting as if it wasn’t happening. I’d make excuses for having to cancel plans, or for him not showing up to parties or holiday dinners with my family. There was always something to cover up and I became a pro at it. I could come up with a story for anything almost instantly.

Now that I’m a little older and a little wiser, it’s clear that shame was a heavy burden that I carried with me over the years. I just never realized it until I was told I had no reason for it. Silence was the stigma. Staying quiet for all these years is what fed the shame.

Once I decided to open the closet and let the skeletons fall where they may, with each post I felt a huge sense of relief. Eventually, I felt safe enough to start letting people in. The same friend also said to me:

“Glad you are letting more people in…it means you are moving closer to liberation!”

To date, it’s only six people. Some days I think…I can’t believe I told “so many” people and on other days I feel like I should be telling everyone. Those days are few and far between. I’m careful not to get ahead of myself. I still haven’t shared the blog with my sister or mother. I’m a little nervous about that. And I haven’t really talked about all of this out loud. I’m not sure I am ready for that just yet.

Regardless, just knowing I have one less thing to stress about makes me happy. The shame is on YOU loser…not me!

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To read from the beginning… my story starts here.

18 Days

Feb25

Ugh…18 days!! I can’t believe I have gone so long without a post. Believe me, this was never intended. Most especially because I know when writing about this topic going MIA sends people into a frenzy. I myself have gone into a panic checking on people I hadn’t heard from in a while so I know how it goes. If I had any of you concerned, my apologies.

Quite a few things have gone on since my last post (nope, still here) and it all has had my head in a tailspin. My mind was on overload and I could barely form a thought let alone post something semi comprehensible. Last I left off was midway through my Sweet Heart Series, which I fully intended to carry on until Valentine’s Day. However, I had weekend plans that took me out of state. A surprise party.

I had known about the possibility of this party since September – on my last weekend visit to my dear friend – let’s give him a name already or at least an initial – R. There ya go. So R is basically my consigliere, my guru, my confidant…my virtual bestie if you will. Being as he works 99% of the time and most conversations are via text. But when I have a problem, he’s there. This is my friend who I have mentioned throughout this blog. At first, the only one who knew of said blog.

Anyway, his wife mentioned throwing him a surprise party when my ex and I had gone there in September. I knew it would be highly unlikely that I would be able to make another trip out of state “alone”. Usually, if I go visit family I will take one of my kids with me and there is never an issue. When the mention of the party came around again I knew I had to be there. So, I came up with a story and a travel companion and although there was some huffing and puffing, luckily there was no issue on me actually going. I was able to get out and go be part of my friend’s surprise.

As luck would have it, I knew someone who was going to the same party. Someone who just happened to need a ride. Someone who was looking forward to spending the weekend with me. Yeah, my ex.

Since our last visit (The Flip Side), we had spoke of the possibility of a follow-up trip. We were both so relaxed the last time. It was a really good visit. This time we were a little concerned about extra people that might be there. I gave him the option that if he was at all uneasy about being there “together” and others seeing and knowing then I would not go. He is like a brother to our friend and his presence trumped mine and I would have gladly forfeited if it meant our stay would be less than perfect.

It ended up that the other couple we knew going we both trust. The husband being someone my ex grew up with and someone I have known nearly since birth. I had worked with his wife in the past and so I was fine with being there with the two of them, both of us were. So we went. Our friend was so shocked and surprised, not only at his party but that we came back — together.

Another perfect two days…relaxed, peaceful, content…just as it should have been all these years. Which did come up a couple of times. This was how our lives would have been if we had stayed together from the start. Comfortable and natural…and a lot of smiling. Makes me believe that happiness is definitely a possibility in the future.

Of course, coming home is always the let down. Dropping him off makes me sad. Walking in my front door…depressing. The week following was pretty much me spiraling into sadness and depression because of feeling so at peace with my ex yet still living this reality. Rethinking all of the little things that were said and done while we were away. There were moments when I contemplated not coming home at all.

I’ve made quick decisions like that in my youth. Got mad at my parents and stayed out all night….or at least until they made enough calls to find me and come drag me out of wherever I was. As much as my heart wants to do the same thing now, I know I have to play this out smart. I have to plan and be prepared in order to get out in one piece and stay that way. The more I keep things calm here the more I think I can plant seeds – unknowingly – in preparation. If I use my head and play it smart I think in the end there will be less of a roar and more of a whimper. We’ll see.

Time always flies when you’re not counting the days but when you’re watching the clock…how slow it goes.

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To read from the beginning… my story starts here.

Sweet Heart Series: Day 5

Feb5

Let me be clear…not everything I read has to do with abuse. It’s just that when I started on WordPress that was the topic I was writing about and it was the topic I needed to read in order to find my way.

Beyond that joyful topic is so much more. I love reading your poetry, and your hysterical hijinx in the work place, as well as the inspirational posts and not for nothing…there is some nice erotic fiction on here. Haha! Hey…I’m being honest.

Today I wanted to share a post that really resonated with me. Made me rethink and change my way of speaking. You see, I have a few friends who are all about positivity. Being grateful for everything they have is just second nature to them. Even if things don’t always go their way for some reason they take it with a grain of salt and understanding that maybe something better is ahead. I’ve taken notice that this attitude has worked for them and that what they wish for others was returned to them. So when I read this post it wasn’t something foreign to me. It really made sense.

I started to change the words I used and after a while I didn’t have to stay on top of what I said…it came naturally. For those of you who have followed me since the inception of this blog, you may have noticed there has been a change. Many of you have commented on the growth you have seen. I truly appreciate that and it would be remiss of me not to pass this post on, as I feel it was a true turning point in my way of thinking.

This one was posted by: The I Am

Like so many other people, I have a list of words that I try very hard not to use. For the most part, they’re easy to avoid. One word that takes more concentration than others on my list is “hope.” *

I’ve looked for synonyms, but none really satisfy the requirements of this single, simple word. So, I fall back on the good ole’ standby, “trust.” As in, “I trust you had a good time.”

But why do I avoid “hope?”

In my thoughts on anything, I try to always think positively. I want to manifest this and that and to do so requires a constant flow of positive thoughts. And “hope,” I’ve determined, is not as positive as I’d like it to be.

Continue reading here… There is no Hope