 |
| Heidi 2000 |
I write for Women.
I write for Victims.
I write to create
understanding.
I write for change.
The first time my (ex)
husband hurt me was a couple of weeks after we were married. I was
20. I don’t remember what angered him,
nearly everything made him jealous and mad.
After being shoved into a
wall I sobbed, “you hit me, I can’t believe you hit
me”.
My words only served to
angered him more. He began beating the walls with his fists,
“This is a hit. This is
what it looks like to hit something”, he shouted
Then showing me closely
his clenched, white knuckled fist he shouted again
“I didn’t HIT
you”.
Hours later, after he
calmed himself. He softly told me that
he would never hit me.
That experience impacted my
brain in a way that altered my thinking for many years. Naive, 20 year
old Heidi now believed that if there was no hitting involved then perhaps it
wasn’t that bad. Abuse means hitting.
I hadn’t been hit. I looked at
the walls torn up with holes, the walls
had been abused. But I was just fine.
Heidi was just fine.
March 1997, more than 2
years later and even more entrenched in his gaslighting, a friend gifted
me two lift tickets to Pebble Creek, a local ski resort. I was
ecstatic. As a struggling college
student it had been a few seasons since I hit the slopes. I LOVED
skiing.
My partner, wasn’t a skier, but I invited him nonetheless. His insecurity surfaced. I don’t know if he was jealous of my opportunity or ability, or perhaps just angry that he didn’t ski.
My partner, wasn’t a skier, but I invited him nonetheless. His insecurity surfaced. I don’t know if he was jealous of my opportunity or ability, or perhaps just angry that he didn’t ski.
He didn’t want me to go and
he was good at manipulating situations to get what he wanted. I wanted so
badly to take advantage of the ski passes. I was kind but firm. I wasn’t letting him manipulate me into
giving up a day of skiing.
Then he lost control.
In his anger he began destroying things in our little apartment. I was so
frustrated at the damage he caused. It was not new. It was a tool he often used to manipulate
me. And if it didn’t have the effect he wanted he upped the
ante.
This March day, he wrapped
his hands around my head, one hand over each ear looking right into my
face. I saw his head pull back.
You know that kind of fear
when your heart is pounding in your throat, you can’t swallow? Tears were
pouring down my cheeks. The fear, I feel
it again as I write.
He launched his forehead into the
bridge of my nose. Blood began pouring out of my face as I sobbed. My face hurt, but worse were my
feelings of humiliation, helplessness.
On the ground I lay bloody and sobbing. I was defeated.
Still, he had not hit
me (no fists were involved) therefore it was not abuse. Or so I had come to believe.
Much happened over the next
few years. My beliefs, societal expectations, continued manipulation,
fear, financial need kept me in the marriage.
March 9, 2000 was a
remarkable day. My independance day.
20 years ago today I freed myself.
So many synchronicities
occurred that day and the days leading up to it. People who supported me
became aware of my situation, breakthroughs in counseling helped me see more
clearly, I began placing confidence back into myself.
Although I woke up that
morning with no intention of leaving him, I came home from a day full of mind
opening events that changed me somehow.
I walked into our little
trailer on the outskirts of town as the sun was setting with its last rays of
light shining through the windows. I asked him,
“Do you love me?”
His answer was simple, yet so
profound.
“You should know that by
now”.
He had never been more right. And then I knew.
I packed my things and left
that night.
I never returned.
