Your Story is Important

I have been honored to have many people thank me for telling my story.  They tell me it helps them not feel so alone.  They tell me it helps them believe that their feelings and experiences are valid.  They tell me it gives them hope.

For whatever reason, sharing my story has helped people.  What an incredible privilege. 

It took me many years to get to a place where I was ready to tell my story.  Many years and lots of therapy.  And sometimes I still struggle.

But even though it's difficult, I believe it is important.  I believe prejudice about mental illness is so common because people don't talk about it, except to mock.  I believe abuse runs so rampant in part because people look away.  People don't want to know about the dark stuff.  Or they are afraid that they carry some shame or guilt because of it.  They are afraid they will be judged, looked down on, or in danger if they tell their story.

And, unfortunately, sometimes that's true.

I am blessed that I am at a place now where I do not fear those things like I used to.  I do not tell everyone I meet, but if asked I will own these things as part of my past.  And part of my present.  Part of who I am.  I speak because I can.  I speak for all those who cannot.

But I believe every story is important.  I believe everyone should get to tell their story even when others don't want them to, even when they are afraid.  I believe strength comes from saying, "This is what happened to me.  It is not who I am, but it does affect me.  And it was wrong."  I believe healing comes from saying, "This is what I did.  I hate who I was.  I am trying so hard to change."  From saying, "This is what I struggle with and I am ashamed."

Whatever your story, I believe you will be stronger and more whole when you are able to share it.

I offer to tell your story for you.  If you want your story known, but are fearful of the outcome, share it with me and I will share it here.  I have had people ask about this, if I would be willing to post their story here.  Yes, I am willing. 

If you do not want to share it publicly, I am still willing to listen.  Feel free to email me and we'll "talk" electronically (without your story being published here).  I am not a therapist.  I will probably not give you any advice.  But I will listen and honor your offering.  If you are uncomfortable talking to me, please find someone who is emotionally safe for you, someone who has never violated your trust.  Talk to them.

And if you aren't ready to talk about it, I suggest writing about it.  Electronic or paper, writing will help get the toxins out.  You are not your past.  Don't let it keep holding you hostage.

Please don't feel pressured to do this.  I do not mean to push.  Everyone comes to their moment(s) of healing in their own time.  But if you've felt like you might want to move ahead, I would be honored to help.

A Tough Day

I've been kind of lost today.  Unsure of myself.  Without direction.  And anxious.

Today is my dad's birthday.  I have been unable to decide how to deal with it.  I feel like I should make some kind of contact to let him know I remembered.  I really don't want to see him.  It's impossible to buy him anything. 

Today I wished I lived far away.  That way I could send a birthday card and that would be enough.

I'm afraid to initiate contact because I don't want a conversation.  I don't want two-way communication.

I spent the whole day trying to decide what to do.  Until I noticed at about 11:00 tonight that it was too late.  By not making a choice, I guess I kind of did.  I did not make contact.

I wrote happy birthday on his facebook wall.  That doesn't really count though because he doesn't check it.

I'm thinking maybe an apologetic "Sorry I missed your birthday; I hope it was a good one" text tomorrow.  I know it sucks, but it's really all I feel good about and honest in offering right now.

There's a small piece of me that is afraid I'm in trouble.  I doubt it because he doesn't feel insulted very often.  He'll probably just shrug it off.

But maybe I am in trouble.  I guess I won't know until tomorrow.

I'm trying to remember that I'm an adult.  Just because he gets upset it doesn't mean I am in trouble or that I've done anything wrong.  I'm trying to remember that he doesn't control my life, that he doesn't have the ability to punish me anymore unless I let him.

Now if I could just figure out how to stop letting him.

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.

Chasing the Threads

Whoever first compared  life to a tapestry was brilliant.  So many threads.  Change one thread and the entire picture changes.

I spent so many years trying to deny the interwoven nature of my life's experiences.  I tried to believe that my life was strictly linear.  That now was now and the past didn't matter.  I told myself that I was over it. 

But those threads.  Those enigmatic, evasive threads.  Some threads are loose.  Some have faded.  And some are just plain missing.  There are holes in my life that keep the picture from being complete.  This has been tough for me.

Sometimes the missing threads find me, like when you find a thread stuck to your pants.  There are times when memories just seem to decide to come back.  Something in my life pulls them to me. 

When they resurface it's usually a tentative thing, a slow process.  They hang there like something just at the edge of my peripheral vision.  I know it's there.  I can sense it.  I can catch a glimpse of it.  But if I rush it and turn to catch it, it runs away.  It's like chasing a frightened animal.  Running after it just pushes it further away.  All I can do is be very patient and wait for it to come to me.  And they do.

I've tried to secure the loose threads.  To make sense of them so that they fit my tapestry again.  To slide them back into place so that the picture becomes more evident.  I feel like many of them are back where they belong.

And as I rebuild my tapestry I have needed help.  I am a novice weaver.  I am new to this process.  My tapestry is my only solo work.  I need the touch of those more experienced, along with the touch of the Master weaver.

The Master has sent me what and who I've needed when I was ready.  He knows better than I.  As long as I trust Him the tapestry continues to grow more beautiful, more complete.  It gains usefulness and purpose.

My next post will begin a new thread.  I understand that I haven't finished with the last section, but I'll get back to it.  That's the way tapestries are.  A little section at a time until the picture becomes clear.