still feeling

he broke my heart

more than once

i miss him

and i still love him

with all the pieces of my heart he left behind

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When School and Real Life Collide

I absolutely love the classes I’m taking.  They’re very basic classes–Intro to Sociology and Violence in Literature–but I love how they intertwine how the information in one class is relevant in the other.  It’s just a great cohesion.  We talk a lot about violence in my classes.  Violence against a group of people and violence against an individual.  Actions aren’t the only form of violence.  Words can be violent too.

No one know everything that happened between my soon to be ex and me behind closed doors. I tend to find it easier to open up fairly anonymously than to my friends and family. There’s less judgement (hopefully) and I get a different perspective on things.

At the end of October, I told one of my friends almost everything that happened while I was married and it’s taken me this long to process and repeat what she said. She said he was emotionally abusive. And I have a hard time taking that to heart.

I’ve heard the stories and know the warning signs, but it’s not the same. He didn’t put me down (directly). He didn’t say I was stupid or worthless or good for nothing. He didn’t threaten me. He didn’t control me (again, directly). So because his behaviours didn’t fit exactly in the definition of emotional abuse, I’m having a hard time calling it emotional abuse.

But when I look at it, really look at it, I can see that it was.

  • He called me names.  Names that I don’t feel comfortable repeating.  He would call me names when he thought I was sleeping.  When I would confront him about it, he was apologetic and said he’d never do it again.  But he did.
  • He would say other hurtful things and after I was crying, he would say that he was joking and that I was being silly and over reacting or I was being too sensitive.  He would also say that when I shared my emotions with him.
  • He would “jokingly” threaten to beat me.
  • He would say that my thoughts/morals/ideals were stupid and I was going to hell for having them.
  • He would often say, “God is punishing you,” if I tripped, or something fell, or if something didn’t turn out the way I wanted.

I would get angry.  I would be hurt.  I would cry.  I would wonder why he would say those things.  I would wonder if he loved me.

I use school to escape my real life. I bury myself in school work so I don’t have to think about what’s really going on. And the rest of the time, I have the eating disorder blocking me of any real chance of dealing with anything. I don’t mind so much. But when the terminology starts to become applicable to real life situations, I tend to have a hard time accepting it. Those terms, those circumstances, belong to other people.  Not me.  But they do belong to me.  I was a target of domestic violence.

That is really hard to admit and accept.  And I’m not sure I do as of yet.  But I can see it.  Next I just have to say it.

What Would Have Been

Tomorrow would have been my anniversary.

A year ago, we were in a church, exchanging our vows and promising to be together until “death do us part.”  And he left.  Without a word.

I wanted to be married to him.  I thought we were equal.  I thought we were partners.

He was the love of my life.  I always thought of him in dreaming up future plans.  Even when I knew it was over, I thought of ways that it would be easiest on him.  I knew we would both be hurt, but I was trying to figure out the less hurtful way of ending it.

He never thought of me at the same level.  He was never open with me, but he forced me to tell him everything.  He made me financially responsible for the household.  It was fine when he was unemployed, but didn’t want to contribute even after he got a job and couldn’t understand why I needed money.  He went out all the time after work and got drunk, and I just went to class then home.  He was adamant about having a biological child and would only consider adoption as a last resort.  Not a good thing to say to someone who is adopted.

I had him first in my heart.

He took a sledgehammer and broke it into pieces.

And now I just want to hide… disappear…

Alone

My husband left me.

I had asked him to leave by the end of the month. But we got into another fight and he left the apartment while I was at work.

I found out through an email. Not a face to face conversation. Not a phone call. Not even a text message. Wait. I did get a text, but it was to check my email.

I know we had problems, but for him to walk out like that was completely cowardly and disrespectful. I never thought he could hurt me more than he already had, but he did. Whenever I felt there were issues between us, he always pushed me to talked about, no matter how uncomfortable I felt. And the last month or so, I’ve actually been voluntarily telling him. He never reciprocated. I wonder if he ever really loved or respected me.

I think he loved the idea of me. I think he want to be with someone who doesn’t really speak up; who takes what he says as gospel and doesn’t question it. And instead he got me.

I spent so many years in silence and it hasn’t really gotten me anywhere. I refuse to stay silent. I will speak up for myself. I will protect myself.

She Said, He Does

She said, “I love you.”

He just nodded silently.

She said, “We should talk.”

He just rolled his eyes and sighed.

I ask what’s wrong.

Lies fall out of his mouth without a moment’s hesitation.

I get frustrated and angry.

He says something hurtful.

I say, “This isn’t right,” and start to cry.

Then he wants to talk.

And all I want to do is shut down.

 

Miss Independent

I grew up as an only child. I think this has given me some advantages. There are disadvantages too. One of the main ones is over self reliance. I’ve done a good amount on my own and I’m proud of that, but it also made it difficult to ask for help. I once told my dad that I was very self reliant and he said he didn’t mean for it to turn out like that. And I get it. I’d rather do a project on my own. If I can do something myself, I’ll rarely ask for help, even if it overwhelms me. I think a subset of that is being okay alone. I know how to entertain myself and I don’t necessarily need someone there.

But all that has changed now. When I started opening up to my husband when we were dating, I found myself starting to rely on him. It was small things at first–helping me carry something or doing something on the small side. And that grew. I find myself relying on him quite a bit now (well, in comparison from before).

I also like just being with him. We don’t have to be doing anything in particular, just sitting and watching TV or reading. I like the physical contact to. A hand hold, a quick hug, sitting next to each other. But none of that happens when we fight or are angry at each other.

There ends up being barely any contact between each other, physical or otherwise, when we are at odds. And it makes me realize how much I’ve become accustomed to the regular and normal contact between us. It doesn’t bode well for my mental health.

I get more anxious and really depressed. I get quiet and start thinking of everything bad and that just makes everything worse. Because then I start thinking that I really don’t need my husband. I was fine before he entered my life and I’ll be okay if he’s not in it anymore. I know it’s extreme, but that’s where my head goes.

I don’t like fighting with my husband. I don’t like having to explain myself over and over again to him even more. It’s exhausting. I wish he could understand that sometimes, it’s not worth the fight. In the long run, it’s not that big of a deal. But he makes it into a big deal, then I just run with it.

It’s frustrating.

I’m Trying to Understand

…how you could hurt me so deeply.

…how you knew it was wrong, yet did it anyway.

…how you don’t hear me when I say you’ve hurt me.

…why I have to be crying or yelling for you to hear me.

… why you think it’s okay to say something horrific, then try to back out it by saying you’re just joking.

…how you can get angry for me feeling hurt.

…why you think it’s okay to do this over and over again.

…how such hate can spew from your mouth.

…why you think it’s okay for you to act this way, but would have a conniption if I did.

…how you could possibly think that not coming home is better than not.

…how you can attempt to justify your behavior.

I’m trying to understand how I can possibly stand by and let this continue to happen.