As a result of his extraordinary hatred and anger, he torments me and causes anguish and pain to rise up within me. I wonder sometimes how I survive the onslaught of his words, words that are meant to inflict pain and fear. Is it no wonder that I have become the woman I am? Is it no wonder that I have developed into an untrusting, fearful, almost demanding woman unflinching in my constant struggle to survive, to protect my children, and ultimately to protect the ugliness of the secret(s) that I have carried?
I do not have the luxury of feeling sorry for myself or my current situation. I need all of my strength and energy to parry every lethal blow from his mouth and every machination he can come up with to maintain control of me. So much has caused me to be paralytic and afraid to stand up to him.
With each new move forward and break with the past he loses another modicum of control and grows more insolent and mean. He delights in referring to himself as a “victim” of my sneaky, behind the back activities and the ongoing conspiracy that exists between my brother and me. I understand and am fully aware that this merely represents one of his manipulative ways to abdicate any and all moral and legal responsibilities to support me and the one child who needs support – our son.
Sometimes I feel the darkness and depression from the constant anxiety and struggle wash over me like some tremendous thundering tsunami wave that engulfs and drowns me. Part of the struggle is to survive that wave, get to the top of the water, and have the strength to get myself to a place of safety. I’m packing now, all of my lovely and not so lovely things that bring back memories not knowing where I’m going.
This is not the first time in my life with this man that I have had to do that. It does not get any easier just because I have had to do it before. Rather, it becomes more difficult especially now that I’m feeling older and more tired – and certainly less sure of myself. That in itself creates immense anxiety and fear. If I dare dwell on that for more than a moment I’m stuck in the quicksand, stuck in a place that I must extricate myself from.
About the author:
I am transitioning from being a wife and mother to a single woman after a 33 year abusive marriage. I am transitioning from so many things I don’t know what to transition from first. I have chosen to write about my experiences as a part of the healing process and hope that my words will help others to recognize themselves, share, and heal as well.
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