My Husband's Feelings

I don't claim to know what he feels.  (Okay, sometimes I do; but just when we are arguing and he claims he isn't upset -- not here.)  But I would like to share what he has expressed.

If I were reading this blog, and someone else were writing it, I would wonder how the husband feels.  If he knows.  So I want to answer that question.

He does know.  He reads this blog and everything else I write and publish.  He knows I write about things from our past that are not pretty.

He supports me and is proud of me.

It's difficult for him to read sometimes.  He doesn't like remembering how ugly it was.  He doesn't like that he did those things.  I'm sure there is embarrassment, even though he hasn't said so.

But he also thinks it's incredibly brave.  He understands that it's important to talk about these things, to help others see.  Some of your comments have helped him see just how important it is, how it has touched your lives and helped you.

When I write something particularly offensive, like my last post, I talk to him first.  I do not ask permission; that would be going backwards.  That would be going back to when I was afraid to do something without his okay, when I was so worried about him and his feelings that mine didn't exist.  Or worried about making him angry.  Or representing him badly.

I tell him what I want to write about.  Then I ask him how he feels about it.  I tell him how I will approach it.  I ask if he is ready.  He shares any concerns he might have.  He tells me what he'd prefer I not share, which is usually what I wouldn't have shared anyway (you know, gory details).

And then I write as honestly as I can.  Before I publish I always look it over to see if I feel good about it.  If I feel I represented everything accurately.  If I stayed true to my promises to him.  Then I publish.

He does not read them before I post.

Then I immediately call or text him to let him know it's done.  I want him to read it so that he knows what others are reading.  So he knows exactly how it unfolded.  And, yes, I go into a little PTSD, worrying that I am in trouble until he signs off on it.  That's going to take some time to get over.

I feel that it's important to consider his wants and feelings as I do this.  I don't think it interferes with the process.  But I am working on my marriage and to just throw him under the bus would not help that.

I just wanted anyone reading this to know where he stands.  I have told him that if he ever wants to write a post here, he is welcome.  Writing isn't really his thing, so he doesn't think he will want to.  But the offer stands.

I hope this helps a few people understand a little better.

Sexual Abuse in Marriage

This is a very difficult post to write.  For so many reasons.  My husband and I are in a really good place right now.  I have been able to function without any PTSD flare-ups for a while.  And my memories are sparse from this time period.

But it won't go away.  It needs to be written.  It is an area that I have just begun to process, so there is still a lot of pain; my heart is racing and tears are streaming as I write this.  It still hurts so much.

I do not intend to be offensive.  I do not intend to be descriptive.  However, I totally understand if you know me (or us) and don't want to read this. 

Sexual abuse in marriage is a tough thing to judge.  Only recently have laws changed that even acknowledge it.  For so long, being married meant consent -- no matter how it was taken advantage of.  Legally, there was no such thing as rape in a marriage.

Luckily, we aren't that blind anymore.

But abuse is a difficult thing to judge much of the time, no matter what kind.  When does it cross the line?

For years, I knew I was unhappy.  I knew something was terribly wrong.  I knew I was not being treated as a daughter of God should be.  I was not treated with value as a person.  But I wasn't sure it was abusive.  Now I am.

I have already written about how my husband was emotionally abusive.  How controlling he was.  And how I had no defenses against it.  I have hinted at other abuse.  But this time I am saying it.

For years, my husband was sexually abusive in our marriage.  To the point that I could have pressed charges?  I doubt it.  To the point that I should have divorced him?  Absolutely.

If I had known then what I know now, I would have.  If he were still like that now, I would.  Things have changed.

But I feel like I need to address this for others.  There are others who have experienced this or are experiencing this or are doing this.  They need someone to stand up and say it's not right.

I am standing up.  It is not right.

It's not about sexual practices.  It's not about whether or not to use toys.  It's not about location.  It's not about role play.  It's not about having a difference of opinion on what is appropriate and what is not.

It is about one person forcing their wants on their partner.  It's that simple.

Sometimes in a healthy marriage there is negotiation.  I don't really want to, but I will because I want you to be happy.  That's not what I'm talking about.

Honey, I am so uncomfortable with that.  I really don't want to.  Please don't ask me to do this.  Please don't make me do this.  Please don't do that.  No.  I said no.  Please, no.  Begging and pleading to be excused.  And so many tears.

That's what I'm talking about.

I am talking about becoming emotionally violent when he didn't get his way.  I am talking about refusing to speak to me for days until he got his way.  I am talking about being extremely mean to the kids until he got his way (men quickly learn that women will do almost anything to protect their children, even sacrifice themselves).  I am talking about withholding money until he got his way.  I am talking about punishing me and/or the kids in any way he could until he got his way.  I am talking about making me feel worthless for not meeting his needs; no, not needs - wants.  I am talking about expecting that it was my job to be the whore from porn movies.  Whenever and in whatever way he wanted.

I'm not talking about demanding sex.  Although, if one person is demanding it I think that is abusive.  I am talking about more than that.  I am talking about asking me to do things I found offensive.  I am talking about forcing things that were painful.  I am talking about taking away all of my value as a person and making me an object.

He had become my world.  He was the father of my children and the provider for our family.  He had become my lifeline.  He had rescued me from my life so he owned me.  Unfortunately, I think we both believed this.

I did not talk to anyone about this.  I was ashamed.  And it was taboo.  It was my problem to fix.

But he was my husband.  It was a mutual relationship.  What right did I have to say how the relationship would be?

It took me so many years to understand what was wrong.  I violated many of my principles for him, because he demanded it.  And then I felt so guilty.  I felt like it was my fault for giving in.  I felt so worthless for the thing I'd let him turn me into.  It's horrible to feel more like a whore than a wife.

We make the sacrifices we need to in order to survive.  That's what I did.  I used the only tool I had:  compliance.  Giving in.

It was the only way I knew to try to give my kids a normal life.  A life not filled with hatred and anger and fear.  A life where their dad loved them and loved their mom.

It's not like this anymore.  I have learned a lot about myself and my power to choose.  I have learned that in a sexual relationship it takes two yesses to make it right.  And only one no to make it wrong.

I have learned to trust and value myself.  He has learned a lot, too.

He didn't see it.  I have watched him grow to understand.  He will probably always be the gas and I will always be the brakes.  But I need that power to feel safe.

He knows that if that power is ever taken away from me, we will no longer be together.  I am worth more than that.

There is still a lot of pain.  Our past colors so much of our present.  Any type of anger in conjunction with sex can send me into instant PTSD.  We have a long way to go to heal this.

But I believe we can.  Because both of us have opened our eyes and seen what it was.  And we both hate what we see.

Clarification

I feel like I need to clarify my last post.

I appreciate eveyone's feedback.  It helps to see how others see it.  It's so easy to be too close to the situation to see it for what it is.  It also helps me see where I wasn't clear in my writing.

Since it's my life, and has been a part of it for so long, I sometimes don't see how bad it is.  Or take it really seriously.  When others comment it helps me see it differently.  As I write my story, I honestly can't tell if the things that bother me are normal and I should just shut up and deal with it or if they really need to be addressed.  That's part of why I write and why I tell my story.

But apparently something was unclear.  I was unclear about the fear.

I apologize to my husband for not writing again for so long.  I left things hanging.  As far as anyone knew he was still not taking responsibility and things were still horrible at home.  This isn't the case.  I got sick and have not been up to writing and finishing the story.

The day I wrote that post, he and I talked about it.  He didn't remember pushing anyone (and this wasn't a shove, it was a push out of the way; still shouldn't happen, but it's a degree thing).  Once I started telling him how it affected me and what happened he started to see it.  That's part of rage.  As I understand it, from what I've studied, rage is a whole different level to anger.  The thought processes bypass certain areas of the brain, the logic center.  That's why there is no reasoning.  That's why there is no memory.  My husband is a lousy liar; I know when he's telling the truth.  I see his face when I tell him what happened.  I watch the change happen as he goes from no memory to that-sounds-familiar as I describe it.  He believes that it happened.  He knows he did it.  He just doesn't remember doing it.

Things are not like they were for so many years.  If they were, I know enough now to leave.  I am strong enough now to leave.  I have enough support now to leave.  But why would I leave now?

He has worked so hard to improve.  He has taken full accountability.  He has had lots of therapy.  He takes medication.  He is willing to admit his shortcomings and try to see how it affects others.  He knows now that he sees the world differently and is willing to ask others if his behavior is okay, if his stand on something is out of the norm.

I love him.  The children love him.  Right now we would rather have him whenever we can (when he's not retreating from the family and hiding out in his room).  We know there are bad times, but comparison matters.  It's important to see where he came from and where he is now.  I'm not going to cut and run because he slipped up and made a mistake.  I make mistakes, too, and he gives me another chance.

There are limits.  He knows that.  There are absolutes that he cannot cross or we're through (to be addressed in a future post).  It took me a long time and a lot of therapy to get to this point.  The point where I am willing to say that the kids and I are worth sacrificing the marriage if it has to be that way.  I am there now.  And he knows it.

But I wanted to address the fear.  I talked about being afraid.  And I was.  But it wasn't current fear.  It was leftover fear.

PTSD is an interesting thing.  Emotions and memories come flooding back when something is similar to a traumatic event from the past.  It's especially difficult if during the initial trauma you attempted to suppress or ignore those feelings.  If you don't feel them during the event, you will eventually feel them -- when it's safe.  So that's the point.  The fact that I felt the fear intensely is important.  It means that in the here and now I felt safer than I did in the past.  Safe enough to acknowledge that I was so afraid.  Safe enough to keep my distance and tell him I felt threatened by him.  Safe enough to protect myself and draw my own boundaries.  Safe enough to begin to process the events from the past and start to heal from them.

Because in the past I didn't.  I ignored it and waited for it to pass.  I avoided the confrontation.  I asked that things change instead of demanding it.  I tried to make things better because I thought it might be my fault.

Not this time.

I took responsibility only for my part of the problem, which was small.  I refused to take responsibility for his portion or to excuse it.  I held him accountable for it.  And once he understood, he took responsibility.

It's a growth process.  The change doesn't happen overnight.  It doesn't even happen in a few months.  It takes lots and lots of time, and there will be mistakes along the way.  But as long as we are both still working, still making progress, I'm staying.  Because I want to.

My Husband is Mean to Me and the Kids

Five years ago, when I started talking about it for the first time, that was all I could say.  I couldn't call it what it was.  I couldn't say he was abusive.  I could call us dysfuntional, for sure.  But I couldn't say that my husband was abusive.

Why?

Because when you make an accusation like that you'd better be able to prove it.  You'd better have bruises and medical reports.  And I didn't. 

Verbal and emotional abuse doesn't leave physical evidence.

No one had seen what he did.  No one else knew what went on in our home.  In public, around friends and neighbors, he was laughing and playful.  Many times people told me that he must be so much fun to live with.  What a great sense of humor.  You must laugh all the time.

No.  Not really.  I dread picking up the phone because I know I'm in trouble for something.  I hate the weekends and holidays because it means very long days with him at home, never knowing if he will be in a good mood or if we will all be walking on eggshells.  Never knowing if the thing that made him laugh yesterday will have him screaming at me today.  Never knowing if my latest penance was enough, if I'm forgiven yet.  If he loves me again.  What's going to bother him today?  What did I do wrong?  What want should I have anticipated?  Will his anger be directed only at me or will he take it out on the kids?

Let me be clear.  He did not hit me.  He did not hit the kids in any way that could not be written off as discipline.  I would have known how to handle that.

He pushed me once, knocked me to the floor, when I was pregnant with our first child.  I remember telling him then and there that if anything like that ever happened again we were through; I would divorce him.  There were times when I regretted that threat.  I believe if I hadn't made it he would have hit me.  And I could have left.  I could have escaped.  And people would understand.

There were many times when I would have given anything just to have him hit me.  Then the decision would be clear.

But verbal and emotional abuse is tricky.  It's a sly thing that hides from the world.  It can even hide from the victim; you just can't put your finger on it.  Especially if you grew up with it.  Which we both did, to some extent.  And it comes on a little at a time so you don't notice it growing.  When you've lived it you believe it is normal.  You believe that everyone gets to that point at one time or another, behind closed doors.  Because it's all you've ever known.

Some examples of the abuse in our marriage/family.  At various times he would --
* give me the silent treatment for days
* humiliate me publicly or privately
* ignore my feelings
* criticize me, call me names, yell at me
* give me a hard time about socializing with my friends or family
* ridicule my beliefs
* have unpredictable mood swings, from good to bad for no apparent reason
* twist my words to turn them against me
* tell me that I am too sensitive
* threaten to leave
* ridicule me and then tell me it's a joke and say that I have no sense of humor
* withhold approval, appreciation, or affection
* present a wonderful face to the world
* promise never to do something hurtful again
* abuse something I love, my children
* compliment me to keep me happy but criticize me to keep me insecure
* harass me about imagined affairs
* question my every move and motive
* make me feel like there is no way to win, damned if I do/damned if I don't
* say things and later deny saying them
* drive like a road-rage junkie
* threaten to hurt me or our children
* manipulate me with lies and contradictions
* blow off commitments to me or the kids because we had misbehaved in some way
(list wording taken in part from Dr. Irene's Verbal Abuse Site)

And there are so many more.  These are just a few of the things that were prevelent in my marriage for most of the fifteen years before I found the voice to talk about it with someone.

I was made to feel incredibly guilty if I chose to go out in the evening, even for a church activity.  And if I wasn't home exactly when I said I would be he would lock me out of the house.

If I woke him up when he overslept, I would get yelled at for acting like his mother -- he can take care of himself.  If I didn't wake him up when he overslept, I would get yelled at for not being considerate and helpful.

If he couldn't bully me into what he wanted then the kids became pawns.  Random punishment for the slightest offense.  Threatening violence if they didn't do what he told them to immediately.  And a complete withdrawl of his affection for them.

When I got off a phone call I would be interrogated for several minutes about who I was talking to and what we were talking about.

If we were out together with friends and I spent more time talking to the friends than to him then I was chastised and punished for ignoring him.

If I spent a night out with a friend, I was told that I was treating him like he was unimportant and that a wife should want to be with her husband.

Nothing was done right.  Nothing was good enough.  Nothing was his fault; everything was my fault.

And as loud and frequent as the yelling was, sometimes the silence was so much worse.  He radiated anger.  He would walk through the room and I could feel it coming off him like heat waves.  The kids and I just tried to be on our best behavior.  We tried to stay out of his way.

And I heard myself using lines I'd heard in all those woman-in-peril movies.  Please just try to be quiet.  Please be as good as you can.  Please don't give daddy any reason to get mad.

We would go for long stretches (sometimes several months) with everything being great.  It was wonderful.  We were happy.  We enjoyed each other.  We wanted to be together.  But even then I was on guard, always knowing that things could change in an instant, always ready to protect my kids and get them away from him.  And something would go wrong.

And I never really knew what it was, but I found excuses for it.  He's just so stressed because of money.  He's working too hard.  He didn't get enough sleep.  He isn't feeling well.

And that's when the yelling would start up again.  That's when he would kick things out of his way as he walked through the room.  That's when he would push his way past someone as they passed in the hallway.  That's when he would tell the kids that whatever he had promised them they were no longer going to get.

The screaming.  The threats.  The criticism.  The hatred.  The disdain.  The anger.  So much anger.  So much pain.  So much rejection.  So much sadness.  So much humiliation.  So much fear.

The kids and I often feeling like we were in trouble, never knowing if he loved us that day.

Why did I stay?  How did I deal with it?  What finally changed?

More to come.

If you are here because your husband is mean to you, please read A Cry in the Dark.

If you don't think you have any options, please read What are My Options When My Husband is Mean?

** I will be selectively allowing comments on this post.  It felt like people weren't honoring other people's feelings.  It felt like too many comments were becoming lectures, telling people what they should think, feel, or do.  I don't believe it's anyone's place to tell you how to live your life or what choices to make.  And I don't believe it creates a safe environment for sharing.  I would still love to hear your story if you'd like to share, as long as it is respectful.