THE SPINS OF OBSESSION
I had to make a wise choice or the wisest one I could make at the time. I could fall into despair and become an emotional cripple or I could decide to nurture and love and welcome this new child with all the love that was within me. I chose love.
April turned into summer with monthly prenatal visits to the Dr. as a norm. It was after one of my Dr. Visits that I decided to take a little excursion to the bakery. My son was at the babysitters for the afternoon and so I went home changed my clothes, hooked up the dishwasher (we had one of those portable ones with faucet hookups) and took a quick trip to get a donut: A very pregnant thing to do. I ate it at the store parking lot and then returned home. When I drove down the road to our house I saw that my husband had come home early. "It's a good thing I stopped to plug in the dishwasher before he got here, I thought." well, that was a false hope. When I walked in the kitchen and dining room floors were covered with sheets and towels. The floors were flooded and according to him it was my fault. He accused me of leaving the drain plug in so the wash water couldn't' drain out of the sink. It had overflowed from the volume of water that had drained out during the cycles.
I couldn't believe my eyes. I knew that I hadn't had time to run the dishes before my appointment so I hurried home to get them going before there was trouble. He found any excuse to bully me in instances like this and I was desperate to avoid them. I was sure I hadn't failed to remove the stopper like he said but I did want that donut. Still, I remember checking everything twice before I walked out the door, knowing that a person shouldn't leave things unattended. I believe that he sabotaged me by causing this to occur because I was not home when he got there. The mess was huge and lot of work to clean up and, of course, he left it all to me because I was the one responsible for it. This small taste of freedom felt so good and the donut was an incredibly sweet comfort even if the consequences were harsh. I would savor it for many days afterward because life was getting harder by the minute. Joy was only a fond memory now and for a long time to come.
My life was diapers, spaghetti-O's, blueberry buckle and a growing tummy coupled with criticism and subjugation and demands upon demands. There was a sense of an emotionless existence, a flatness to life where my hopes dreams feelings and wishes were discounted and even labeled as crazy. The need for closeness was not negotiable. It was not even considered.
Odd changes began to happen. Things of mine, insignificant thing really, began to disappear. A Magazine, a note to myself, a recipe, even some flowers were chopped to bits after I planted them. He had moved on to gas lighting. The missing recipe was my first clue that he was the reason my things were disappearing. I had made a chocolate cake from a recipe I found in a little book from the local market. I got many compliments on it; I had put the book in a kitchen drawer and hadn't paid any attention to it until I thought to make the cake again. Wow, it was gone. I had a sneaking hunch it was him, my child was too little to reach the drawer and nobody else was around. So I kept my mouth shut and patiently watched for other evidence of this type and nature. Sure enough he didn't disappoint. I had been keeping g calendar of his nights that he didn't come home, just checking on my own perceptions of what he was doing or not doing. I had buried it under some towels. Next thing I know he is yelling at me about keeping track of him and how he wasn't having any of that and he ripped it up right in front of me. I knew for sure then that he was a snoop and a gaslighter. I knew that all the other misplaced or destroyed items were his doing too. He had given himself away in a fit of rage. Things had definitely taken another direction. Violence no longer worked because I was seeing the Dr. so often and any marks or bruises would be intensely questioned. Instead he resorted to slave and master games and gaslighting manipulations. When I didn't ask him about the articles that were missing or moved it frustrated him to the point that he lashed out deliberately trying to get me to engage with him over this. I wasn't about to do that. I had learned years earlier that engaging was never a good move.
Not only were his tactics changing but most of all I was changing. The pregnancy was progressing and I was beginning to get more tired and miserable with each passing day. I was taking on fluid a little earlier this time. I felt distorted and unhappy. He was either working or playing but not very interested in me or the children. He only knew I was around when he needed to be cruel.
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