i remember

[Bridget Jones Is Free]

Sometimes I remember things which I brushed aside, so used as I am to his weird attitudes.

I remember he wore a complete black outfit to attend x, an official meeting. He wanted, as I subsequently found out from him, to indicate the “death” of our family, his death, I was basically killing him.

At the time I was shocked to see him. I am not sure if I ever wrote a post about this but, because I watched a well known film about abuse, I noticed the similarities in my husband’s attitude to the film character’s behaviour.

It’s frightening. I also noticed the female character putting on an act, pretending to be happy, helpful, obedient and pleased too with the abuser’s love making. And in between moments when she is able to show her real feelings in her eyes and on her face, she grimaces in disgust, pain and desperation.

I burst in tears at that precise moment. I was sexually “used”, and each time I was abused, I put on a face, waiting for the moment when I would be free to feel, feel my disgust at myself for allowing what happened, and doubting this was love, let alone love MAKING. I would use the toilet area and look at myself in the mirror, it wasn’t me I was looking at, it was a paid prostitute. I sold my soul to stay in a home, a beautiful home with our children.

That kind of abuse is the one I often describe in our arguments, I can’t help it. It’s the anger, bitterness and resentment I explode with, then the disgust at myself.

If this film resonates with me, what life have I lived, what person have I become? Why did I allow it for so long?

Then one of my children said to me today (he knows nothing about this so it’s safe to explain), that her friends, after they met him at x all said her dad was scary, they felt very uneasy and disturbed. They had seen him for the first time after having seen me on a few occasions, but my child was very eager to report her friends’ reaction to me. I told her their impression was the one I had as a deep gut feeling when I first met him, he scared me.

She also said he refused to speak to them and was assertively and untactfully leaving as he had to go, end of. So what could have been a nice moment to share turned into a quick I drop you off and bye. Shame on him…

She can’t bear the time when I have to leave her, her face drops and she reluctantly says goodbye to me and tells me she will miss me and wants me to write her a letter to add to the others, she even keeps the envelopes and puts the letters and envelopes up on the wall.

She says that when she speaks to him he doesn’t listen, or brings things back to him, it’s all about him.

So I remember the day I met him and the real impression of fear I felt about him. It was instantaneous and lasted a long time. I felt like saying “please don’t sit near me”. The rest is history.

I remember when one of our children ended up in hospital, he didn’t accompany me despite the seriousness of the event. He remained shockingly unperturbed.

I remember the stories his dad told me, one of which was being proud of a violent reaction his son had towards someone, it shocked me to hear about it but he presented such well constructed excuses, none of which I agreed with but I kept silent after asking reasonable questions about the violence because it was his opinion and mine was to remain shocked.

I remember how he acted around his sister whom he hated, I remember a picture taken of us with her baby and feeling like the look in his eyes was so strange and nasty. I used to try and pass it as not being photogenic. In the end I used to avoid taking pictures of him with us altogether, I felt he spoilt them.

But always, always, always that underlying feeling of unease, the front I put on, the smile I wore as a compensation, it was exhausting. It still is.

I remember complaining the hot drink he made at x time always tasted different to the ones I made, so did he put something in my drink? I remember he tried to get me to take prescription drugs which I questioned him about as you cant get them over the counter. The story he gave me was shocking, so I kind of got worried he was putting them in my drinks…

I remember his reaction when, early on before we even got together, he became impolitely demanding towards an x employee, because I was having problems with a particular situations otherwise needing time to get sorted. There was no need for his temper, mild but embarrassing. Little did I know of the slow identity erosion he would put me through, the amount of situations i should have been embarrassed about but brushed under the carpet one after the other.

I remember so much now. And that film scares me more and more. He is going mad at the moment, his attitude is “I’ve got nothing more to loose” and it’s scary. I am best avoiding every situation that would normally require his input. Draw a big cross on it all. Do as if I was on my own. I have a weird gut feeling he can’t control himself, his explosions being like rages.

[KIP.]

Don’t waste another moment of your life on him.

You cannot go back and change the beginning but you can start right now where you are are and change the ending x another post from this forum. CS Lewis x

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