Abuse

All posts tagged Abuse

Quiet as A Mouse

Published June 18, 2017 by dividinguplife

From a young age, I was conditioned to be very quiet. My mother always had one ailment or another that required very little noise in order for her to get through the day. I had to keep my little brother occupied and out of her hair so she could nap for hours at a time. As a result, my brother and I grew very close and to this day he has nothing to say to our mother. 

Into my adult life, I have learned that my problems are my own, and nobody wants to be burdened with them. Usually that isn’t true, but it did prove to be true when I was with The Abuser. One time I had abscess cellulitis in my left breast that became infected. My breast was as hard as a baseball and very painful. I drove myself to the hospital, was injected with medication, had the area cut open, and they had to dig the infection out. When I got home, The Abuser was fast asleep. He never asked how it went, he never cared that I was in pain. 

When I was pregnant with my daughter, I went into preterm labor. My ex-husband was sleeping when it happened. I woke him up and told him that something didn’t feel right. I don’t remember what he said, but I remember driving myself to the hospital while he continued sleeping. They gave me some meds to stop my labor and I drove myself home a few hours later, once everything settled down. 

This week I pulled something in my upper back. I haven’t felt pain in my back like this in … well, ever. I pushed through work while slamming Aspirin down my throat. When I got home I barely moved, took a Flexeril and went to sleep. The next morning I woke up with pains shooting into my chest and the feeling like my spinal cord was about to rip out of my neck. The shooting pains alarmed me enough that after I got dressed for work, I drove to the hospital (which is across the street from my work) and went to the emergency room. Thankfully, it was only severe inflammation with muscle spasms. I was glad to hear that my EKG was normal. He gave me a script for more Flexeril and Percocet, and told me to go home for the day. 

I probably should have woken my husband up and told him what was going on. Chest pain scares me. I don’t think I’ve ever felt pain like that before. But that voice in my head; the voice that has been there since I was a child, told me to handle it myself, to not burden other people with something that may not be a big deal. So, that’s what I did. 

I wish I had a way to record the verbal words that I say in one day. Not during a work day, because I have to talk and engage with my patients. But on a weekend. I’m a very quiet person. My mind is always racing with thoughts, and I’m always listening to everyone else in the house when they are talking. Last night I was cooking dinner and trying to tell a story to my husband that recapped my day helping my grandpa pack. My grandmother went with me yesterday, so I was trying to tell him about the things she was doing over there. Instead, my grandmother interrupted me in mid-sentence to say something and my husband responded back to her, and they started their own dialogue. I never got to finish my story, but I did remark on the fact that I’m tired of being invisible. I don’t speak a lot, so when I do, I would hope that people would want to listen to me. I guess not, though. 

My husband also loves to watch these stupid ass SJW YouTube videos. He enjoys laughing at the absurdity of the things that come out of their mouth. This second-wave feminism shit just pisses me off. I hate watching those videos because I hate listening to stupidity. I don’t care that you’re pissed off because Marvel makes movies directed towards men specifically. I don’t care that you’re overly excited that Wonder Woman was directed by a female. I think you look ridiculous screaming about how men can’t be raped, and that only men do the raping. I hate all of it. I ended up going upstairs and lying in bed to watch something that didn’t piss me off or get me depressed. Yesterday was just a weird day for me, I guess. 

Add that to the fact that our receptionist is pregnant and is using that as an excuse to come in late, leave early, and basically do fuck all of nothing to help us out. Not that she helped much in the first place. She didn’t even want a baby. Once her husbands visa was approved for him to move from Algeria to the States, all of a sudden she wants a baby. And she’s the biggest fucking baby about being pregnant. I don’t even know how she’s going to do the mothering thing. She can’t even handle shit with the baby inside of her. I guess my tolerance for weakness has never been there. Especially with people that have had it all handed to them on a silver platter, and then whine and complain when they have to do something on their own. 

Here’s to hoping this coming week will be better. 

Tiring Minds

Published May 4, 2017 by dividinguplife

Yesterday was a weird day for me. This empath thing was in full-blast at work. By 11:00 I felt like I had 12 ton weights pulling my legs down. I have never felt so tired before. After we finished morning clinic and our patients cleared out of the office for our lunch break, the feelings went away and it was as if nothing happened. 

There are days that I wonder what is wrong with me health-wise. I figure that something must be going on internally with me and I’m probably dying. Then I go to the doctor and have blood work done, and everything looks okay. I try to stay away from frequent trips to the doctor because they can’t explain why I feel the way that I do, and I don’t want to look like a crazy person that “thinks” they are ill all of the time. I can’t exactly sit there with a person of science and say “Oh I’m fine, I can just feel what other people are feeling.” I can only imagine what kind of things would be written in my chart, followed with a suggestion that I seek psychiatric help. 

I saw a video put up on Facebook last night by The Abuser. His wife was in it. The one he cheated on me with. Eight years later and she looks like she’s strung out on crack. They live in some dilapidated ghetto. It’s not that I see this and reflect back on our relationship. I guess it’s just that I still can’t believe he chose her over me, and tossed me out on my ass. The man made me feel like I was nothing for three years, and then proved it to me by so easily dismissing me from his life, after cheating on me multiple times. 

Ewwww

I just … I don’t get it?? I was too fat, but this isn’t too skinny? Not to mention that she loves prescription pills, alcohol, and weed. Not that I have a problem with weed, even though I haven’t smoked it in a while. But still …. that shit still hurts you know? There are still days that I hate who I am because of the things he said to me. Oh well. I bet he can pick her up and fuck her against a wall, just like he always wanted. 

Is my life better? Absolutely. That’s not the point. The point is that I spent years crying over someone that now lives a life of miserable means and with someone that hasn’t improved it in any way. All of that hell and torment and he lives on the wrong side of the track. It just makes me bitter. 

But make no mistake; I fucking love my husband so much that it hurts. But this shit pisses me off.

Empty Room

Published April 28, 2017 by dividinguplife

This week has been total and utter hell. I finally broke down into weeping tears last night when I went to bed. 

I get up at 5:15 every morning. Work by 7:30. Then, work coupled with jerk patients has been asinine to say the least. Totally overbooked and over-busy, being pulled in six different directions at once. Staying late, and then getting home to have your grandmother ask you to go to the store, and go to drop off and then pickup her prescription meds, and then having to run to a third store to pick up fruit cocktail for my husband, because he only likes a specific brand sold at one store. Get home, the guinea pig cage needs to be cleaned out. The dog needs a bath because she ran into the mud and she’s an all white dog. Dinner is half-way cooked but needs to be finished because my Grams “just can’t” as she disappears upstairs to sleep. I finally sit down for the first time at 9:30 at night and then I’m in bed by 10:00. I’m not sleeping, though. My brain decides at that particular time to start trying to figure out how I’m going to pay the bills on time. That’s always a fantastic time to start figuring out how to produce more money from the sky than what you will actually have. 

Last night, after I had done another nightly store run to pick up sugar (Grams can’t live without sweet tea), my husband and I were sitting in the sunroom and I was looking through old pictures of myself and of my daughter. I scrolled past one of me when I was a lot thinner, shortly after The Abuser and I split up. My husband joked “You used to be pretty” (we always make fun of each other in the worst ways) and I was like “Yeah, I know.” Then, in a serious voice he was like “Honey, you could look like that again if you wanted to.” 

That destroyed me. It messed me up so much that when I went to reach for my drink, it went shattering to the ground. I was like “What did you say??” He was like, “You know that’s not how I meant it.” In my head, there was no other way to mean it. I told him goodnight and went to the bedroom and cried myself to sleep. He sent me a text just before I fell asleep that said “I don’t care what you say, you know I think you’re gorgeous.” I didn’t have it in me to reply. The voices in my head were loud, and they were harsh. The Abusers word ran through my mind over and over again. 

“The first time I saw you, my first thought was that I should have kept driving.”

Me

I will rub your back when you get down to the weight you’re supposed to.”

Don’t smile, it isn’t attractive.” 

“You will never be anything without me.” 

Me3

“I want to be with someone that I can pick up and put them against the wall and fuck. What kind of boring sex will we always have if I can’t even pick you up?”

Me2

You should be able to see the knuckles on a woman’s hands without her making a fist. You can’t see your knuckles because of the fat on your skin.”

Me4

“If you can’t see your collarbones, you’re too fat.”

Me5

My mind has replayed all of this shit plus more, all day today. When I looked in the mirror last night, I hated myself for the first time in a long time. On the way to work this morning I thought about getting Gastric Bypass surgery, then realized that requires recovery time out of work, and I don’t have the kind of job that I can afford to miss work. 

The other day my daughter told me that her step-mom said something about the age in which my daughter can start dating. When my daughter told her step-mom that both I and her dad said a different age, her step-mom remarked “Well, your mom started dating at 14 and look how that turned out.” 

Man, that shit really hurt, you know? I mean, step-mom grew up in a very VERY well-to-do family. Her parents paid for her private school, paid her way through college, and still pay for them to go no expensive trips. My dad abandoned me at birth, my mom was a drug addict, I had to raise my brother when I was eight years old because my mom was too drugged out to get up and take care of him. I left home permanently at 16/17 years old. I had my daughter just before I turned 19. I’ve worked since I was 15, I graduated high school despite all of that. My mom had drug addicts live with her that stole all of our shit, down to our clothes. I mean, I think considering the fact that I didn’t have the same life that she had, or the same opportunities, I’m doing pretty damn good. And it makes me sad to think that she see’s me that way, because I always thought we got along pretty well. 

It has been a very bad week. I feel ugly, unwanted, stupid, and an all-around failure. I just want to sleep. I want this to just go away. I want to wake up and be flawless so nobody can tell me what it is that i need to improve about myself. I want to make the voices of my past go away. I want to undo the damage that has been done. 

Exes and Ohh’s

Published April 23, 2017 by dividinguplife

It’s unusually cold today, with rain forecast for the next three days. I’m fighting the urge to take a nap, because if I do I won’t sleep for shit tonight. That doesn’t make for a very happy person on a Monday morning with a schedule full of asshole patients. 

Facebook is becoming less and less interesting. So much political drama. I find myself on there less often than ever before. After The Abuser friend requested me, his wife blocked me for whatever reason. Then a few weeks later she unblocked me. If I ever comment on something that he puts up, his wife is sure to comment as well, just to make her presence known. It just makes me laugh. She will never again be able to sleep a full night wondering if her husband really misses me (he does), and wonder if I’m the one that is on his mind (I am). That, my dear, is what you get for being a homewrecking, cheating, slut. Enjoy the rest of your life. I get pleasure in showing The Abuser that I’m happily married, despite his warnings years ago that I would be nothing without him. I enjoy seeing that they live in a shit house. I enjoy knowing that his wife doesn’t work, and that he does all of the cooking and cleaning, and raising of the kids because she’s a lazy cunt. I enjoy knowing that he cheated on me and married below me. I don’t have a lot of self-esteem because of him, but at least I know this much to be true. I know he looks through my Facebook and my pictures, because I know him. I’m willing to bet she logs onto his Facebook and looks, too. He has blocked me on messenger (I would imagine at her request) so we can’t really communicate … but I know him as well as she does. 

Why do I maintain a friendship with him? I forgave him of the abuse. I had therapy for it. I know that he can never physically hurt me again. And truth be told, I WANT him to see how great I’m doing. Yes, the fat girl that you thought “had potential” is doing well for herself, even though you threw her and her daughter out on the streets with nothing. I’ve sure come a long way from homelessness, haven’t I, dickhead? And you know what? I did it all on my own, before my husband and I got together. Nothing puts the boot up your ass faster than having absolutely nothing and a small child to take care of. I lost it all because of his infidelity and her low morals. You slept with my then-fiance you fucking bitch. I hope karma gets you in every way possible. She did me a favor, yes. But the point remains that she absolutely destroyed me eight years ago. They both did. I have never felt so ugly and torn down as I did when I found out he was fucking her behind my back, and then left me for her. 

Country Boy has been in steady contact over the last few weeks. He’s had a few meltdowns because things are continuing to go downhill for him and that girl that is dating and living with her baby daddy. She keeps flip-flopping back and forth between wanting to leave this guy and be with Country Boy, and wanting to stay with baby daddy. I’m at the point that I’m about to block him on messenger because I am just tired of repeating myself and him not listening. She isn’t going to leave the guy, she isn’t going to get with you on a steady thing, she is using you for what she needs in the moment, and then she goes home to her man. This isn’t new shit for cheaters. This is cheating 101. Get with it, man. Rather than him feel thankful for having a job and a roof over his head, he complains about everything simply because he doesn’t have a girlfriend, and hasn’t had one in nearly two years, since we dated. I don’t know if he’s ever stopped to consider that his shit-ass attitude matched with his horrible temper may be the problem. Whatever the case, I’m tired of hearing about it. He doesn’t have a lot, but he still has so much more than other people have, and he acts like he’s the only person that has ever lost anything in his life. 

People just get on my damn nerves. Especially those with entitlement issues. Life owes you nothing. Work hard for what you want. No excuses. 

Way Down We Go

Published March 1, 2017 by dividinguplife

I find it funny – the last blog that I wrote and how it ties into something I discovered last night. 

I don’t know how many women keep tabs on their exes and the partners that they left them for. I’ve always done it. Ever since The Abuser threw me and my daughter out, I’ve always kept tabs on his life and the ups and downs of it. To say that he and his wife have had a tumultuous relationship would be an understatement. A year and a half ago, once he realized that I was getting married and not changing my mind, he went back to his wife and blocked me on Facebook. After this having happened for the hundredth time in our pseudo-friendship, it just made me laugh. I was the one that wanted to maintain a friendship with him once we split up and I had therapy to understand why he was an abusive dickhead. He wanted that friendship too. With our friendship came the jealousy from his wife, even though she always stated that she had no problem with us being friends. I guess when you are part of the reason a relationship is homewrecked, it must be difficult to sleep at night wondering if the relationship you helped destroy, may one day find its way back together. So, The Abuser and I could be friends, but only on her terms, and only when she wasn’t pissed off at him for something. 

Anyway. I’ve been blocked on Facebook for a year by The Abuser. Last night I was suddenly unblocked. Why? I don’t know. If I had to guess, it was because his wife was somewhere that wasn’t at home and he got curious as to how I was doing. He got to thinking about something. I know how his mind wanders. He’s never happy with what he has if he thinks he can have better. I would imagine they haven’t gotten their tax refunds yet if he is catching thoughts about me. When he has money, he is in his element. He’s never happier than when he’s spending money. 

I hope whatever he was looking for, he found. I hope that it was like a punch in the stomach to see that I’m still married, that I’m happy, and that I’m doing okay without him. I remember when he left me, then found out a few months later that I was dating someone else – he had to the nerve to tell me he was irreplaceable. He honestly believed that. But he has been replaced. And I am better off for it. I told my husband last night that I was suddenly unblocked. He found that interesting. But I told him just so that he would know. Just in case The Abuser tries to call me or messages me on Facebook, at least he’d know what was up.

Do I still think about him? Yeah. Do I remember good times with him? Of course I do. I carry a lot of memories with me on a daily basis. I would never want to part with them. Not even the bad ones. 

I saw a video last night that ripped me apart. It’s called “Hurt” by Johnny Cash. Trent Reznor wrote it, but Johnny Cash was born to sing it. 

Johnny Cash – Hurt

When I watched the video, and listened to the lyrics, it made me think of him. I have a feeling that when this life is said and done with The Abuser, he is going to have a life of regret that he can’t ever take back. I hate that for him. I hate that for anyone. 

It even made me want to hug Johnny Cash and tell him that everything was okay. That man was a grade-A asshole in his youth. But it seems as if it all caught up with him in the end. And the pain that’s in his eyes in this video? It’s enough to rip your soul out. 

What have I become? My sweetest friend. Everyone I know, goes away in the end. And you could have it all – my empire of dirt. I will let you down. I will make you hurt. If I could start again, a million miles away. I would keep myself, I would find a way.

Rock Bottom Isn’t So Bad

Published February 15, 2017 by dividinguplife

I always feel like I have some profound shit to say, but when it comes time to write, there’s usually nothing there. Oh well. 

Work has been rather grueling this week. A lot of difficult patients with a lot of specific needs. I’ve been trying to anticipate what the doctor needs before he asks for it. It helps my critical thinking skills, and also saves me from stopping what I’m doing for one patient to run around like a chicken with my head cut off, for another patient that I thought I was finished with. So far this week and last week I have done a pretty decent job at figuring out what he is going to want before he asks for it. 

I was messing around with google maps tonight. I figured I’d take a trip through the old neighborhood my husband and I grew up in. It made me giggle that I could still see the same route I took when I would sneak out of my house at night and tear through the back yards to climb through my brother-in-laws window. 

The top right was my house. The bottom left, my husbands. 

map

I ran that same path a hundred times during the summer of ’98. 

In the summer, when the smell of wet, fresh cut grass finds its way to my nose, I’m instantly 13 again. The sound of the crickets on a muggy summer night, and I can hear my childhood laughter as I was tearing through the woods, bright-eyed and excited for the freedoms that I had while dreaming of a future that turned out so completely different than I thought it would. 

How much heartache and disappointment must one endure before they get their happy ending? I consider myself lucky to have found what I have at the age of 31. It is rather amazing to look back and think of the bullshit and hell I’ve been through with abuse and cheating and heartache in the last 13 years. 

Honestly, though. I wouldn’t change one bit of it. The emotional, physical, and mental abuse? It taught me how to and how to not treat other people. It wore down my self-esteem, yes. But, now I know what it feels like to be made to feel like you’re worthless. I could never intentionally say something to another human being to hurt them with regard to how they look, dress, or feel. 

Being cheated on multiple times? Another blow to my self-esteem. A lot of hours of therapy. But it taught me the pain of another persons selfish actions. It taught me that at the end of the day, every single one of these men always asked for me to come back to them; that they’d made a mistake. It taught me about the proverbial fence and the color of grass. It taught me to continue to be the person that I am, because someday someone would appreciate all of the positive things I bring to a relationship. 

13 years of weeding through the assholes, through the bullshit, through the pain. I’ve cried an ocean of tears. I’ve written more journal entry’s, spent more nights in deep thought and reflection, and lived mature lives well before I was supposed to be old enough to do it. I grew up poor. I became co-dependent on men. I’ve lost everything and been homeless. I’ve rebuilt my life and learned the hardest lessons. I’ve survived. 

I still live paycheck to paycheck. But I made it a goal of mine to make sure that my daughter never had to grow up in the environment that I did. I have busted my ass to ensure that she lives in a home that has a permanent foundation as apposed to the trailer I grew up in . She goes to a private school. I take her and her friend skating and to the movies on the weekends when we have the extra money. She even admitted the other night that I was “cooler than most parents” – which was a compliment of the highest regard coming from her almost-teenage self. 

So, if you find yourself careening towards rock bottom – allow yourself to fall. Allow yourself to learn from it. There are so many lessons to be learned if you turn the focus from you to everything else around you.

Real Nightmares

Published February 8, 2017 by dividinguplife

Today is the first sick day I’ve used in over a year. Not because I’m sick, but because my daughter isn’t feeling well. My boss isn’t at work today, so there are not patients, otherwise I’d be at work after giving my kid meds. Sick time is allowed only when convenient for the boss. 

Last night was the first night that my husband and I had a spat in the year we’ve been married. It lasted for about two minutes and then it was done. He was in a shit mood from work yesterday, so everything I said that sounded like fun, he had a negative spin to put on it. Being an empath, when his mood is shit, I can feel it and my mood turns to shit. He had to run to the store and asked me a question while I was in the downstairs bathroom. The wall behind me had the washing machine going,  he had the TV blaring like a movie theater. Of course I couldn’t hear him, so I said “What?” and he thought I said it with an attitude. So I told him that if he was going to be in a shit mood about having to run to the store then I would do it. He snapped back and went to the store. When he got home he was fine and I was too, and we went on about our evening. 

I read somewhere once that if you don’t argue, then something is wrong with your marriage. But, we don’t argue. Ever. So I don’t understand what could be so wrong. If that statement is true, then I’m screwed. I shut down when arguing happens. I guess it’s residual leftovers from The Abuser. Something in me just closes up. My heard starts to equate arguing with loss of love. It tries to tell me that if we’re arguing, he doesn’t love me anymore. I try to stay quiet so that I don’t cause him to love me less. That’s not just with my husband, that’s with any past relationship after The Abuser. I blamed myself after my arguments with The Abuser as to being my fault. If I would have just stayed quiet, if I wouldn’t have been aggressive in any form, he wouldn’t have quit loving me. He wouldn’t have hit me. It has been eight years since the demise of our relationship, and his words still haunt me. People don’t realize how long abuse sticks with someone. In my heart I know that I am safe, and that my husband loves me. My head pulls archived files and puts them in my face. 

I just wonder if there will ever come a time that I’m not scarred by relationships past?