It was September, 1987. My <then> husband sat across the room from me, void of any emotion, and said, “Any man that saw you nude would turn around and puke.” Surely I had not heard him correctly, but his words were undeniably, crystal clear. Swimming in a sea of disbelief, I found myself speechless as our 10 month old son slept peacefully in his room down the hall. How do you respond to that level of psychological demolition? The truth is I didn’t. As always, I merely swallowed my emotions and internalized the pain. But deep inside of me there was a storm brewing, an impending uprising, and it would not be long before an escape plan was devised and put into action.
I was 18 years old when I met Mark. He was 31. That, in and of itself, should tell you something, but Mark was my knight in shining armor. He was educated, successful, 
handsome, attentive, and he made me feel desired and worthy – all the emotions I never received from my father. During our brief courtship, Mark garnered limitless affection on me. Every weekend we would go dancing at the local honky-tonk, have dinner out with friends, go sailing or water skiing, and inevitably conclude nearly every evening with a passionate, physical encounter. Yes, he was my dream come true, and I was immediately swept up in the fairy tale. Abusers tend to move fast in their relationships; otherwise they run the risk of exposing their true self.
After dating for four months, Mark learned he was being transferred to Oklahoma City and invited me to move with him. I eagerly accepted and delighted in his promise of a beautiful home and a wonderful life together. What girl wouldn’t jump at the opportunity? As my 19th birthday approached, we planned an evening with friends in celebration of my special day. Dinner and dancing would be the agenda, but never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined the fairy-tale night that would unfold. Abusers have a tendency to romance your socks off and treat you like a princess. They usually fill a void in your heart that often times is left from issues you had with your father or mother, i.e. abandonment, acceptance, worthiness, etc.
Upon our friends’ arrival and to my surprise, we were whisked away in a jet black limousine stocked full of bubbly champagne. Following a fun-filled dinner at the Magic Time Machine in Addison, Texas, Mark instructed the driver to take us to Reunion Tower, an opulent, ball 
shaped tower that over-looks the Dallas skyline. It was there amid the beautiful, crystal clear night that Mark dropped to one knee, cracked open a tiny, black velvet box and asked me to marry him. My fairy-tale romance was more than I ever imagined it would be. This was the man of my dreams! It was only a matter of time before his mask came crashing down, and his true self would inevitably be revealed.
Our move to the Oklahoma City area came one month later. He (not us) purchased our dream home, new furniture, state-of-the-art electronics for the living room, and a pool table for the game room. Once the dollhouse was appropriately decorated, we were adequately prepared to begin playing house. Within two months of living there, I was diagnosed with a large ovarian cyst that would require surgical removal. Recovery was difficult, but the surgery was a success following the removal of my left ovary, fallopian tube, and appendix. Up to that point in my life, I had been on birth control pills, but Mark insisted I not resume my preventative medication following the surgery. He claimed that birth control pills were directly related to the death of his mother, and he couldn’t bear the thought of possibly traipsing through another trauma of that magnitude with me. I obliged. Abusers control their victims and place blame on others’ for their feelings.
It wasn’t long until the vast difference in our ages began to appear as tension grew between us. By March of the following year we were separated, and I had moved back home to Dallas. My residence there would be short-lived as we soon discovered I was pregnant. Mark asked me to come home, claiming he loved me and wanted both of us. Once again, I optimistically obliged. Two weeks after my return, Mark asked me to consider having an abortion. I refused. After all, I still believed in the prospect of my fairy-tale. Abusers often times attempts to manipulate their victims into returning home.
We were married by the end of April and assumed our new roles as husband, wife, and expecting parents. It wouldn’t be long before my dreams were shattered as the first verbal 
blow was flung over the fence. Four months pregnant, an argument erupted between us amid what seemed to be his daily intoxicated state of mind. “I would have never married you if you hadn’t gotten pregnant,” were the words that flowed in my direction. I stood there feeling like a worthless incubator. The fairy-tale was officially over. Abusers will assault their victims through the use of degrading and hurtful verbal attacks and diminish their worthiness.
Throughout the pregnancy, I continued to stuff my emotions in the form of food and gained 70+ lbs. I felt like a whale. Since I was no longer working, Mark decidedly allocated $300 a month for me to purchase all the household groceries and supplies. The money was given to me in the form of a check which I was to deposit into my checking account. In addition, he gave me a Phillips 66 gasoline credit card as well as a Sears credit card. I was to utilize these resources when gas or clothing items were necessary, purchases I now realize were easily tracked. Outside of that, I had no access to funds garnered from his salary. It was a tight budget, but one that I made do with. After our son arrived, I was met with a temporary reprieve of presumed happiness. Once again, this would be short-lived. Mark continued to work Monday through Friday as I stumbled around his house in my role as wife and mother. As often as possible, I would make the four hour trek to Dallas to see my Mom. It seemed to be the only place I received acceptance and love. Abusers isolate and control their victims by coveting any/all finances.
As the months passed, tensions continued to grow. Neither one of us were happy. Given my lack of social and relationship skills, there is no doubt in my mind that I had a contributing role in the demise of our relationship. But somewhere in the happily-ever-after story, Hollywood forgot to mention dirty diapers, housekeeping, paying bills, budgeting, control issues, verbal abuse, isolation, and conflict. The only witness I ever had in regard to conflict was demonstrated through my father’s departure. When the going gets tough, the weak flee. I wasn’t about to flee….not yet anyway.
Mark’s drinking continued to escalate, and his after work happy hours at the topless club became more frequent. Having never experienced alcoholism first-hand, I didn’t recognize it for what it was. Out marital intimacy took on the form of a Saturday morning quickie that merely fulfilled his immediate, physical needs. There was no intimacy per se’ as I merely assumed the role of a weekly, sperm receptacle. Eliminating the possibility of history repeating itself, Mark made it known that birth control pills were now an acceptable and expected medication following the birth of our son. Funny how quickly he was able to process the trauma of his mother’s death. Abusers tend to have issues with drugs and/or alcohol. Abusers also tend to demonstrate rigid sex roles in their relationships.
By the time our son was nine months old, the emotional living conditions were devoid of 
nearly all laughter and happiness. We merely existed. Mark continued to drink, I continued to eat. Food, television, trips to Dallas, and combing the Sears’ isles became my mainstay. I had no real friends, nor any social stimulation to speak of unless it was arranged by Mark. Abusers socially isolate their victims.
Shortly after my 21st birthday, I ventured out alone one evening for a night out on the town. I don’t know for certain, but I must have lied about where I was going as Mark would surely have disapproved. It was there that I met a man named Marty. We spent the evening drinking, dancing, and laughing, and for the first time in nearly two years I felt desired. While that evening ended in a wholesome goodbye, I soon found myself overwhelmed with the desire to return to the happy place. On my third visit Marty was there, but this time we would depart one another’s company having exchanged phone numbers. Two weeks later I agreed to join him for dinner at his place where a one-time intimate encounter would occur. Arriving home that evening, I was thrust into a world of guilt and shame, fearing Mark would see right through my deception. I just knew he would be able to smell the intimate offence as it seeped from every orifice of my body. As fate would have it, that evening would be the one time in recent history that Mark wanted to have sex. An invitation I politely declined with some form of fictitious excuse. Abusers are jealous and can use sex as a weapon or a means of control.
Following my next trip to Dallas, I shared with Mark that I had returned to our old stomping grounds for a little dancing and fun while I was away. This news was not received with any level of excitement on his part. It wasn’t long after that when the verbal abuse 
reached its pinnacle. Having stopped off for happy hour (more like happy three hours), Mark arrived home and plopped down on the couch. I was not pleased with his post-work whereabouts and offered no excuses for my discontent. It was at that moment his inner truth was revealed. “Any man that saw you nude would turn around and puke.” I knew I had to flee, and the plans for my escape immediately began to mentally take shape. Abusers emotionally beat down their victims by telling them they are anything short of worthy, valued, or important.
Phone calls were made the following morning to my family in Dallas and arrangements were made for my brother and a friend to drive up later that week. I didn’t dare put anything in writing in fear of Mark discovering it, so I began to a make mental list of all the items I would want to take. On Friday morning as Mark’s bumper drove safely out of site, the truck and trailer pulled around the corner and operation escape commenced. Within two hours, we had loaded up all of my personal belongings, my son’s enormous stock of baby supplies, and any wedding gifts that were given to us from my side of the family. With my infant son nestled safely on my hip, I placed the letter I had written to Mark on the wet bar, loaded a last few items into my car, and set my eyes on Dallas with child in tow. The primary emotion that victims have of their abuser is fear, not love. Victims tend to flee when the abuser is not present; otherwise they risk not successfully escaping.
While I may have been free from his physical control, there is no doubt that the emotional devastation left an enormous hole in the very fiber of my being. My self-confidence was destroyed, self-worth was non-existent, and I found myself paralyzed by the fear of single motherhood. With no job, money, or formal education, I sought a welcome refuge in my mother’s home. Around 8:00 pm that evening, no doubt following another after work happy hour(s), Mark called and apologetically pleaded with me to come home. “I love you. I love our son. I want our family. I’ll do whatever I need to do.” Nestled in the safety of my family, I refused to return. I had finally done it. I had left. I was free. And I was not about to yield to his manipulation once again by succumbing to the unrealistic dreams of fairy-tale endings. No, this time I found the courage to stand my ground. Abusers make promises and tell you what they think you want to hear to regain control of you.
What I’ve learned in therapy is that abusers (in whatever form they take shape) have very specific behavioral tendencies, even from the onset of their first encounter with you. As outlined by www.newhopeforwomen.org the following are attributes of abusers. Those highlighted in bold are specific to my abuse based on present-day recollection.
- Jealousy (insecurity)
- Controlling behavior
- Quick involvement
- Unrealistic expectations
- Isolation – especially of their victim
- Blames others for their problems
- Blames others for their feelings
- Hypersensitivity
- Cruelty to animals or children
- “Playful” use of force in sex
- Verbal abuse
- Rigid sex roles
- Dual personality “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde”
- Past battering
- Threats of violence
- Breaking or striking objects
- Any force during an argument
- Drug and/or alcohol abuse
I was lucky. I got out the first time. I find it very disturbing that average victim flees their abuser seven times before they finally break free. While I may have been lucky to get out when I did, the fact remains that I have never completely processed through the emotions I stuffed throughout my fairy-tale ordeal. I still stand in their wake. Yesterday, my therapist and I began to unlock the emotions associated with that time in my life. For the first time in 23 years, I am certain that healing is on the horizon.
When next we meet, I’ll share with you the emotional devastation that has plagued me for years following the “puke” slap; how I reacted (not responded) to that seed and the journey I am on to finally put an end the verbal abuse fallout. Just because you physically remove yourself from a toxic environment doesn’t mean the trauma is past. In fact, that is when devastation’s true impact really begins to take hold. You may be free physically, but you have to work hard to break free emotionally.
You ARE worthy.
You ARE important.
You are NOT alone.
If you know or suspect that you or someone you know is in an abusive relationship, married or otherwise, please seek help. There are abundant resources available to you no matter where you live. It is there you can find the peace, serenity, and self-confidence you have lost over time. It is the first step you must take in YOUR Survivors Journey.
Depending on the level of abuse, please be aware that visiting internet sites from your home computer can be traced. You are encouraged to use a computer that your abuser does not have access to. Local libraries and some schools are a good alternative. If you dial a hotline from your home phone, please be sure to clear the number from your redial function. Any/all cell phone calls are detailed in their monthly bill. Be certain you do not utilize any device your abuser has access to when planning and immediately after your escape or when seeking help.
24/7 – National Domestic Violence Hotline – 1-800-799-SAFE (7233)
Signs that you may be in an emotionally abusive relationship
Profile of a Batterer
invaded by carpenter ants, deteriorating it at ground level, and severely compromising its structural integrity. I knew it was only a matter of time before it would come crashing down. It was better to replace it on our schedule rather than when we were forced to. We opted for an 8’ board on board, cedar picket fence that would be secured by galvanized steel posts; a strong, beautiful fence that would last for years to come. Our first step was to take down the old, rotten one. With sledge hammer in hand, a team of testosterone driven teenagers began smashing down the old fence in preparation for the new one. As each panel was hauled off, my field of view became clearer, broader, and more spacious. I delighted in its removal, as it had become quite an eyesore.
ut….one by one. We had to get the root; otherwise the steel posts would be unstable at best, and the new fence would be no better than the one we would replace. Oh, it would have looked pretty for a while, but rest assured it too would be anything but secure. If you’re going to go through the effort and expense of building a new fence, you obviously want your efforts to result in a quality product, right? Of course! I knew my journey was intended to be no different.
emotions surrounding those events that I had been denying for so long. It’s been emotionally, physically, and intellectually exhausting. Thinking about the fence, I wanted to ensure there was no stone left unturned or concrete that remained embedded in the soil from my journey to date. You can’t build a strong fence without first removing the old one…all of it. What purpose would the journey serve if I merely sawed off my fence posts at the surface but left their undesirable, deceitful foundation behind? No, I had to make sure the concrete roots were disposed of. In doing so, I could pour truth into the core of my being where lies had previously reined. It is there that the truth seed will flourish, and the real healing finally begins.
Deep inside me there are deposits (aka “lies”) that have prevented me from truly blossoming. Subconscious messages from abusive relationships have weighted me down, always impeding my ability to believe in myself. Every time I look into the mirror, I see what is wrong rather than what is right. It was time to shatter the concrete blocks below the surface and replace them with new, healthy, strong, concreted truths of who I am. I want to be FREE from the lies. To successfully accomplish that, I must demolish the old, concrete roots once and for all. I must leave no stone unturned.
second reaction was, “EWWW!” It took me nearly three months before I finally shared her advice with Clayton. I just couldn’t imagine voluntarily placing myself in such a vulnerable position. But as you will witness in my next Survivors Journey entry, her exercise would inevitably deposit unimaginable, indescribable, blocks of concrete truth like nothing before. This encounter would serve as the first galvanized steel fence post in my journey toward rebuilding a life based on truth, not lies.
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