I do not believe in abusive partners. Co-dependancy is not a language I speak. While relationships can be very complicated things to see clearly when you are inside them and you can find yourself slowly lured into a place you would never have agreed to had you seen it from the entrance, I was raised to have enough self esteem to know when I’m being compromised in a way that is not acceptable. When it comes to any physical abuse, game over. That’s just not negotiable. I’ve never had much experience with that attitude being challenged because I’ve never been attracted to the kind of men who have the need to display physical domination over women. Machismo? No thank you.
So why am I sitting here with an ice pack on my face where I got hit? I’m hoping I can keep it from swelling and turning into a black eye because I have a pitch meeting to go to tomorrow. I don’t want people to think the wrong thing. People see a woman with a black eye and immediately assume she’s in an abusive relationship. One has to wonder what is wrong with this woman to make her put up with such things. What makes this bad is that it would not be the wrong assumption. Yes I am in an abusive relationship I have to be honest with myself about that.
So why am I? How can I be in an abusive relationship? I look at how every door in this house is cracked from being kicked in. My vacuum cleaner has a broken handle because it was thrown to the floor several times replacing me as a punching bag in a fit of rage. There are holes in the walls and plastic replaces a broken window. Remote controls don’t last long around here because they get thrown. They hit the wall or the floor but they are usually aimed at me. I have needed to wear long sleeves in the summer to cover bruises and bite marks – yes, bite marks!
We’ve gotten professional help. We’ve been in some form of counseling for years, we seem to move forward but then move back. The criticism and lack of respect eat at my self esteem and focus. The stress makes me scatter brained and compromises my short term memory. Sometimes I want to leave, I really do. I get in the car but rarely go further than around the block before I come back. I park somewhere and cry into my cell phone to a friend that is close enough that I am not embarrassed to discuss it with them. I don't want people to know; I don't want them to think he is a bad person. He has such a wonderful side. After a while, he calls to say he's sorry and I know it's safe go back home.
I really can’t live without him.
I can’t, I won’t. I am dedicated to him. He is my life.
I love him unconditionally.
I refuse to give up on him! We will work on this, it WILL get better! We will try other therapists. He can go on meds. Something will have to work because I don't want to live without him.
I can't leave him.
He is my son.