Home Again
I returned home to another kind of hell. He was angry with me for leaving. The house was in disarray and he had torn up credit cards of mine and other papers that could make a difference. My personal belongings were tampered with including my birth control pills. He looked very sullen with a threatening demeanor. As soon as I got the baby settled and took a hot bath myself, he cornered me. He was definitely enraged at the idea of my going to his hometown. He detested my independence His intensity grew until he grabbed me and forced himself on me. He threw me on the bed and held me down, he raped me. My tears were silent. There was no sobbing, just tears that fell away without pain or anger. I felt the loss of some deep sense of self within me. It silently left my body creating an empty space where it once lived. It drifted out of me and disappeared into the atmosphere without a sound: A vanishing. It wasn't my heart; it was still beating. It wasn't my soul; I was still alive, It wasn't my brain; I could still think. It was that invisible energy of life. He had just robbed me of a person's greatest gift: spirit self.
That ended it. I was definitely filing for divorce. I had this feeling of emptiness. I was overwhelmed with hatred but I kept it in. This was not worthy of any angry words.In retrospect did he think that because I didn't fight him I was actually willing to be harmed or did he rather think that he was not harming me. I will never know for sure except that he did seem to gain pleasure from my pain or heartbreak. I learned early on not to reveal my pain or terror over what he did. The reason for this was simple; he used any retaliation or attempt at discussing his transgressions as criticisms which further aggravated him. I could not let on that he had degraded me, I refused to beg plead or scream to authenticate his success a hurting me. Protesting the assaults was not a wise solution. He wanted to get the better of me to feed his ego mania and I was not going to cooperate. After every assault verbal or physical it was never mentioned again by him or me. He acted as if nothing had ever happened. I acted that way too, but inside my wounds festered.
In a short while I would suspect the obvious because my period was overdue. And there were some increasing signs of possible pregnancy, I kept thinking that I had been upset and under great stress with the trip and my return to his rage that maybe I was just late. But No I was pregnant. I was also very worried. I had been advised not to get pregnant for 3 years due to the preeclampsia and the C-section. I knew I was going to be sick again. I also knew that I couldn't leave him like I had hoped. I had drawn the trapped card from the destiny pile in the game of marriage.
I was humbled to my core, I would have to stay with him and I didn't want to. I loathed him secretly. I needed his insurance and I needed the familiar pattern of home life to get through the next nine months. I could not afford the high level of stress of being alone and under threat. I would need to know my environment. In some ways I felt like an impostor and in other like a protector. I was carrying another life that was just as important as my own, maybe more important than my own at this time. My body was responsible for her life. She needed me to live. I had to stay safe and well for her. This was to be a major challenge physically and emotionally.
Next Post: The Spin of Obsession
THE SPINS OF OBSESSION
I was living in some type of forced unconditional love arrangement coupled with dubious suspicions doubts and questions but devoid of limitations or rules where he was concerned. With that there was a door to my soul that was left open for the unscrupulous to enter. I was not aware that he would even consider degrading me to that extent. Oh, but so often, for them, there is a temptation to take advantage of compassion and understanding and a willingness to love and forgive. The power that comes from taking something that has been given so freely from which suffering and pain evolve must bring an immeasurable satisfaction. Why? Because they repeat it again and again and again.
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.
