the little witch 3

Tough read, on my blog post: the little witch 2. I know. It was tough for me to write it and then to read it again many years later. I am quite amazed and surprised that I was that forthcoming. It is not easy talking about abuse. First, because it is something one is taught to hide. By means of intimidation, coercion or the shame and embarrassment. Also if you grow up, and that is all you know, it is all you know. It is very different to look at it by adult eyes. Very different. There is always that flicker of "don't tell". Even today. Of course, now I answer that flicker, with a "Why the hell not?" I was a child. Adult eyes, looking back at a voiceless little girl.

After some boyfriends, including one who actually punched me in the face, I met my ex husband. I was 19. Still a teenager. Right out of the pot, into the kettle. We had a tumultuous relationship, once ending in me  breaking up and moving away from him. He came back with promises of a great life, I moved back in with him. Yes, we did live in a lovely home, but he was controlling and both physically, emotionally and verbally abusive. Sometimes I just wish it was only the physical. The emotional and verbal abuse was excessive. He belittled me in front of people. I started to believe him that I was stupid. He called me every name in the book in his rages. He used to charge me, fist in my face. He broke things. I remember just cringing when I heard him pull up in his car at night. No matter how I tried to have everything perfect, it was never good enough. He cheated on me regularly, and told me I was crazy for even mentioning it. Then he would shower me with gifts, be so sorry and charming and I would forgive him, because he was so stressed (and more excuses of why I made him do what he did to me)

I felt sad trapped and dependent on him. I had children with him, two a girl and a boy. What was I thinking? I wasn't. However I feel blessed to have my children. Them, and my eventual escape into the light was the best part of being married to him. I could go on and on about the stories, but I will spare you.

I started going to therapy toward the end of the marrage. He used to try to intimidate me not to say anything to the therapist. I remember once writing it all down. He saw me holding the notebook in the therapist's waiting room, and threatened me. But I went in the therapist room and held the paper up, shaking so hard I could barely read what I had written. In that note I asked him to be kind to me, or I would have to leave him. Soon after, he quite going, summing it all up to "my issues" not his. And it did not change, it never would. I was married to him for 10 years, had lived with him for 7 years before. I continued to go to therapy. I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. I took medication, and I read a whole bunch of books about healing.

I was so afraid to leave him. He was always talking about how he knew people, he had an obsession with and owned a whole safe full of guns and knives. He pretended he was law enforcement when he would go partying with his buddies. I was afraid he would kill me if I left. I know he had spyware on my computer and watched my every move, and he had our phones tapped so he could monitor my phone calls. I can't prove it, but I feel like he had me followed as well.

But I did leave. With the support of some kick ass women in my life, two therapist, antidepressants and all the bravery I could muster up.... I left.

lost souls

~crow