I’ve recounted some of the emotional and sexual abuse perpetrated by the Ogre toward me, but until very recently I have stopped short of actually classifying my marriage to the Ogre as “domestic violence”. As a hospital advocate with a crisis center, I know what Domestic Violence is. I’ve had the training regarding the cycle of violence, and the different ways perpetrators gain access and rob the victim of power and control of their own lives. So what stopped me from saying so?

In order to admit that my relationship was domestically violent, I have to admit I was a victim. I have to admit that it happened to me, and that I did not even see it for a long time. I have to admit that I allowed, through inaction, the abuse to continue. I have to admit that I should have left sooner, but didn’t. I have to admit that I was too weak even to leave for the sake of my children.

There’s also the Dysfunctional Family Rule: don’t talk about it. If I discuss any of the Ogre's transgressions, he says I am lying or overreacting, but he feels free to discuss my transgressions to everyone, including the children. I have been conditioned not to speak about David’s behavior. Even now, when the children are asking not to be hurt, the Ogre blames me, demanding “What are you trying to do?” in an intimidating voice. It is very frightening to me to bring up any of his behaviors for me or the children, because I will receive many kinds of backlash from him.

One thing that all of the Ogre's behavior has taught me is that I am acting in strong belief of my cause. I am acting on behalf of my children, to remove them from an abusive environment, and I am acting on my own behalf, to transition from a victim to a survivor. Yes, it did happen to me. It can happen to anyone, but I am strong enough to stop it now, before it gets worse, even if I couldn’t stop it sooner.

So I present a chronology of the Ogre's abusive actions, to me and toward the children, so I can show the pattern of degradation, humiliation, intimidation, and criticism that is life in the Ogre's house. I have audio recordings of some of these items, including a tactic called “gaslighting” and called “invalidation”, where someone twists reality to suit themselves, thus leaving the victim insecure in their own position.

I ask you to consider the scary, hurtful environment that Domestic violence has created, for me and for the children, and I ask you to help me eliminate that environment. I ask that the Ogre be directed to:

a. Refrain from harassment, including bringing up court-related questions (like his need for the car on Saturday) but yelling at me not to speak to him or to “leave him alone” when I respond to statements or ask him for the car for my on-call shift Saturday.

b. Refrain from jokes at my expense in front of the children (Little One mentioned that he had said I was belly dancing and the Ogre had responded, “Well, she has the belly for it”) This includes refraining from practical jokes like driving the car forward when I reach for the handle.

c. Refrain from put-downs and criticism about me or my significant other, whether in my presence or in front of the children

d. Refrain from interrogating the children about what they ate, what they did, etc. when they are with me.

e. Refrain from derogatory insinuations, threats of future activity (“Just you wait”), intimidation tactics (“so you’re not willing to work this out” and “You’re trying for full custody”, “What are you doing?”Stated forcefully and repeated until I say something), belittling comments (“I know you…”said in a negative tone in front of the Little One), Accusations of lying (which can also be taken as discussing the complaint, which he has been forbidden to do by the Judge).

f. Refrain from derogatory actions, such as driving away if I am late to be picked up (which cannot happen if we are not in the car together ever) , being excessively late (more than 10 minutes) to a meeting/dropping off children, or taking me on errands against my will when he is supposed to be dropping me off.

g. Refrain from yelling, shouting, etc.

h. Refrain from repetitive or excessive telephoning (he hangs up on me then calls me right back to yell at me more)

Thank you.

Letters to My Original Abusers

Dear Dad,

I think I’ve written a letter like this before to you, but I don’t know if I ever sent it, and anyway, I understand a lot more about the subject now.

Dad, I’m angry with you. I’ve been angry with you for what seems like forever.

I’m angry that, despite the fact that you worked from home, you were rarely around. I’m angry that, when you were around, you were often mean and violent. I’m angry that you seemed to loathe the family you created. I’m especially angry and hurt that you seem to have mellowed out with D’s family, in a way that you were never mellow with ours.

I’m angry that you cheated on Mom. I’m angry that you lied about it.

Having said that, I do actually understand feeling trapped in a family that doesn’t seem like your own. I know what it’s like to have a depressed spouse, and the strain it puts on one. I understand not feeling wanted, and seeking to fulfill that need outside of marriage. But I’m angry that you didn’t solve the problem, and it was up to me, in my generation, to learn that sometimes it’s better to leave than to be exploited.

I’m angry that you were physically abusive. Dave is abusive and insensitive, and even he was shocked that you found your “training sessions” in the truck funny. You would hit us so hard sometimes we would see stars, Dad. It hurt Annie and it hurt me. It especially hurt me because I would be punished if Annie couldn’t answer fast enough, so in time, I became responsible for math that was five years ahead of where I was. You didn’t make me good at math that way, Dad. It took years of me training myself out of the sheer terror of answering math problems to enjoy math. I used to be terrified of flash cards, because they reminded me of you.

I’m angry, and have been angry for a long time, that you expected me to “make up” for what you perceived as Annie’s deficiencies. I know now that a lot of my academic underachievement was related directly to that expectation and your other unreachable expectations.

I’m angry that you’d hit us, and that you taught me so early that defending myself just made the beating worse. I’m angry, because that set me up to be raped when I was 11. I didn’t fight, and for years I blamed myself for not fighting, until I realized it was a learned response, but still I blame myself, even knowing it was a learned response, because of course you’d assume it was my fault somehow.

There were times when I was a child, especially after the rape, that I wanted to kill you.

I’m angry that because I’m used to men being controlling and unpredictable, violent and aggressive, that I continued to pick out men in my life who were like that (with one notable exception; my firstborn’s namesake).

I’m angry that the house was messy all of the time, and that you’d suddenly require Annie and I to clean it, without ever having taught us the habits of picking up after ourselves regularly.

I’m angry that you took better care of the horses than you took of us. I’m angry that, despite the fact that Mom worked, too, she was still in charge of grocery shopping, much of the cooking, and housework that of course she couldn’t complete.

I’m angry that when you cleaned, you got violent.

I’m angry that you were mostly unpredictable.

I’m sad that I lost out on a lot of feeling good about myself because I was never good enough for you.

I’m enraged that you treated Annie so poorly throughout her life. It actually makes me sick that you were so terrible to her, and that in order for her to do things she wanted to do, I had to ask for her.

I’m angry that you didn’t protect me from Grandpa, knowing what you must have known about his relationship to your sister. I’m angry because molestation leads to hypersexual behavior, which also set me up to be raped again and again throughout my life. I’m incensed that you would place your daughters in situations where they would be alone with a known child molester. I can’t even put words to my rage and confusion about that.

I’m angry that you broke my tailbone because I forgot a math book at school. I’m angry that, to this day, I’m afraid people will leave me if I’m not exactly on time.

I’m angry that I was so terrified of the school calling the house that, whenever possible, I’d screen calls, and say you were unavailable.

I’m angry you didn’t try to help me with my school troubles, but instead just believed that I was bad.

I’m angry that you only loved me when I did things you wanted me to do, like roller skating, spending time with the horses, getting good grades or acting smart.

I’m angry that most of your comments were hurtful, were put-downs, and now that’s what I assume everyone is saying to me all of the time, without even realizing I’m doing it.

Mostly, I’m angry that even though I try my hardest to avoid you, you are still very present in my life, still influencing much of what I do, still making me feel small and unworthy.

I’m angry that I never busted you right in the face, that I never kicked you in the kneecaps. I’m angry that I rarely, if ever, screamed at you until my throat was raw.

I’m angry that you didn’t ever realize you were a crappy parent, and seek help to become a better one.

I’m mostly angry and betrayed, though, that you don’t seem to realize how much you hurt everyone in our family. That you don’t even think that torturing the cats was bad.

I’m angry that I never felt safe to express myself, even though I did it sometimes, anyway. NEVER. I’m especially angry that you told me that if I wrote about our family, you’d disown me. The answer to that is: Then don’t do things you’d be ashamed of others reading about!

I’m angry that you taught me to fear you, instead being someone I could respect. I’m angry that I’m afraid of Dave, partly because I’m afraid of men in general.

I’m angry that you didn’t show how evil you were to other people, although some people could sense it, anyway.

I’m angry that, to this day, I still have trouble expressing anger and rage, because you showed us that those emotions aren’t “safe”, and because we weren’t allowed to express them toward you.

I am looking at my life right now, and naming things appropriately. Dad, I was molested as an infant and a toddler, as a young girl and a teenager and finally an adult because you didn’t stop it. Because I was molested, I was hypersexual in play, and because I wasn’t able to fight back, I was raped. The majority of my sexual experiences have been rape, sexual assault, even though I told myself it was my choice, I was still only having sex because I thought there was no other way out, because I felt I caused the situation and it was my fault, because I didn’t know how to say “no”. With 84 people, I could not say “no”. I allowed people to use my body because I didn’t think I was worth saving.

I have been reliving my relationship with you, with Grandpa, with Mom over and over, trying to get it right this time. I now acknowledge that I cannot make it right. You cannot make it right. All I can do is express my understanding and genuine rage at this, and stand up for myself and say “NO MORE”.

NO MORE silence

NO MORE intimidation

NO MORE threats

NO MORE tolerance

NO MORE sweeping it under the rug

NO MORE ignorance

NO MORE abusing myself

NO MORE letting others abuse me

NO MORE repeating my past.

NO MORE you being in charge

NO MORE fear of you

NO MORE accepting criticism from you

NO MORE sharing my time with people who don’t want to be around me.

NO MORE allowing people to intimidate me just because I’m used to it.

NO MORE!

I hate you for what you did, and that you never cared enough for us to see the impact you were having. I’ve hated you and hated you, until I had no energy to hate you anymore. I’ve hated myself for being like you, for being molded by you.

NO MORE.

I may forgive you one day, for my own peace of mind, but not today. Today, I need to see where my wounds are, so I can begin healing them. And you have no choice over it, no power to give or deny me permission to do it. You have no power to stop me from writing about the things you’ve done in my life, because you did them in my life.

For now, I just forgive myself for continuing the patterns of abuse I learned as a child. I forgive myself, and I dedicate myself to learning healthier relationships. This Generational problem stops with me.

A letter to Mom,

Dear Mom,

I cannot express anger to you directly, yet. I suppose part of me is still afraid you will break. I have only resentment. I will work on the anger part. Right now, I try simply not to relive your life, not to repeat the mistakes I lived through you making. I will not allow my husband to abuse my children. I will not attempt suicide. I will not abandon my family.

A letter to Grandpa,

I’ve said everything I’ve needed to say to your spirit. I’ve released my negative energy toward you, and I let you go, willingly, into your eternal slumber.

A Note On Co-Dependence (If that's OK with You)

Dr. Irene (whose website is a must-see for anyone who feels they may be in an abusive relationship), describes codependency in useful terms here.

In the Care Taking section, I scored 23/25.
Low Self-Worth: 24/31
Repression: 2/3
Obsession: 6/13 (Hey!)
Controlling: 6/8
Denial: 10/15
Dependency: 11/26 (I’m getting better)
Poor Communication: 18/33
Weak Boundaries: 8/8
Lack of Trust: 7/7
Anger: 9/16
Sex Problems: (Now, I receive a 4/18, in my marriage, it was 18/18).
Misc: 1/16
Progressive (now, 0, in my marriage, 11/12)

But what is codependency? Wikipedia has a pretty good spread, in the first few paragraphs.

Basically, it’s putting other people first, to the detriment of yourself. It encompasses all the thinking and feeling that goes along with it. And it has to be a pattern of behavior. Over-committing yourself does not make you codependent.

I noticed this, because, of course, we take a lot of our problems with us, and in my current relationship, I just woke up to a long section of codependence, which helped make us both miserable. Of course, my current relationship partner is codependent as well. You should see us trying to decide what to have for dinner:

HIM: “What would you like to eat, honey?”
ME: “I don’t know. What are you in the mood for?”
HIM: “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
ME: “I’m not that hungry; you decide.”
HIM: “Well, I could go for pizza…or maybe Chinese…”
ME: “Sure, those sound good.”
HIM: “But which one?”
ME: “I don’t know.”

Sigh (which is also a codependent behavior: indirectly expressing emotions instead of just saying, “this is exasperating”).

But I did find a nice “Recovery Patterns of Codependence” pdf from “Codependents Anonymous”. Although I have never tried the 12 steps and have no desire to try them, this pdf gives thought patterns and then the Challenge Thoughts, which is useful with Cognitive Behavioral Therapy and Dialectical Behavior Therapy, Mindfulness, etc.

And a lot of the “Recovery Patterns” deal with Mindfulness, which is also a trend I’m seeing from the universe recently in my life.

Trends in the Universe

Yeah, about that. Synchronicity, or patterns that must be more than mere coincidence. Divine Intervention… In my life recently, the following have been the synchronicities I’ve been seeing:

1) Engage the “Right Hemisphere” (although we know now that the hemisphere’s aren’t as separated as we thought in the 1980’s, there is still enough pop-culture knowledge of Right Brain/Left Brain that most people know what I mean. Right-brain activities include meditation, art, sex, exercising, prayer, imagining/visualizing, music.
2) Be Mindful: in emotions, in weight loss. Being mindful seems to be echoing through the cosmos right at me.
3) Take care of yourself and your boundaries First. This is something I’ve never been good at, but not only are people asking me about it in their own lives, but in my life, too, my strife comes from not respecting my own boundaries or taking care of myself.

A friend of mine would say that we are co-creators through Spirit, and we see in our lives what we ask the Universe to show us.

I’ve had enough experience with this phenomenon (as an occasionally fundamentalist Christian, this would be called Divine Intervention or the working of the Holy Spirit), that I do see it, and I’m not surprised by it. Right now, agnostic as I am, I can’t tell if it’s the collective unconscious, my own co-creation, God, or what. But I do see the patterns, and I am trying to learn.

What’s funny is that the way out of codependence, and the way out of my weight problem, my posture problem, my spiritual-crisis problem, my blah-life problem, is all the same. Use my right brain, be mindful, guard my boundaries.

So maybe I should get on that right now…

Today I’m supposed to pick up “The Emotionally Abused Woman : Overcoming Destructive Patterns And Reclaiming Yourself” by Beverly Engel.

And I feel very good about that step.

Being Psychic and Female Sexuality

I’ve been studying being psychic the last few weeks. How to become psychic, what kinds of psychic I want to be, what to do about becoming the kind of psychic I want to be.

It kind of dovetails with the whole female sexuality subject I’ve also been studying. How, I’m not really sure, but I know there’s a connection here for me.

Women’s intuition, you could say.

I think I am studying these things because I ignored and repressed both in my marriage. Psychic powers are considered bad in church, generally speaking. So is female sexuality, really. And both are very powerful, and very important to me. I’d like to learn about palmistry and oneiromancy (the study and interpretation of dreams), telepathy and empathy, clairvoyance, etc. I believe in ESP, in that we seem to know when something truly terrible is going to happen, déjà vu, and sometimes we know our siblings or friends are upset from hundreds of miles away.

And female sexuality, well…I realized I had been experiencing male sexuality more than female sexuality, which is much different. It was results-oriented and generally businesslike. A “let’s get to the happy finish” proposition…not really any fun for me. Worse, I generally did it because someone else wanted to. By going through my personal history, I was able to find three people I was with because I was attracted to them. Three. Out of many times many.

That’s a lot of doing it when I didn’t want to.

Now, shame on me for doing it when I didn’t want to. But shame on others for thinking that pressured sex is good sex. My bf now can tell when I’m not really into it, and it was so long since I was into it that I didn’t even know what “into it” felt like. 30 years old and I didn’t even know major things about my body and my sexuality. I don’t know what I like in bed, believe it or not. But I can tell you what he’ll like, or what she’ll like. Just not me.

And I also found, writing out my timeline and my personal history, that I’ve been subject to sexual harassment, rape, etc. far more than I would have thought. And that I’ve never been more than a year without a boyfriend, or more than six months without a sex partner.

Fascinating.

So much to explore!

New "Scariest Damn Thing"

If initiating the divorce was "the scariest damn think I've done so far," today a new "scariest damn thing" arrived: today I told the world why I want and need a divorce. Today I discussed in detail why I had to leave. Today, for the first time, I had someone understand the extent of the abusive situation I was in, and why it impacted agreements we had made, and what it means to be under his threats.

I found a very good article, which changed my mind about why I was being so protective of him. It's called "Love and the Stockholm Syndrome: The Mystery of Loving an Abuser".

It does a great job explaining why victims try to appease their abusers: because it lowers "victim stress". Which is very simple, but people fail to see it.

I've made decisions over the past year simply to appease him, or to prevent him from going off and making my life miserable, and the lives of people around me. Life becomes "How do I keep him quiet?"

The judge seemed to understand this, and I was so relieved, I couldn't help but cry. It was "finally! someone understands!" moment.

Of course, she made no decisions, and she understands that all she has is my side of the story, so I will have to make sure I bring my several-months-long log of things he did.

Which sounds so petty, but it's the only way to show how these things add up over time.

Sigh.

Scary, but done. The ball is rolling. I'm trying to acknowledge why I am ambivalent about it (stockholm syndrome), and move on, but it is hard.

My Declaration of Independence

When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one Person to dissolve the psychological bands which have subjugated her to others, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle her, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that she should declare the causes which impel her to the separation.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. That to secure these rights, boundaries are instituted around individuals, limiting the accepted behaviors of others, deriving their just powers from the respect of those boundaries of others, That whenever any person’s behavior becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the Recipient to require the alteration or abolishment of it, and to determine acceptable behavior and the consequence of noncompliance, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing her powers in such form, as to her shall seem most likely to effect her Safety and Happiness. Prudence and Politesse, indeed, will dictate that behaviors long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn, that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce her, it is her right, it is her duty, to throw off such behaviors or perpetrators of such behaviors, and to provide new Guards for her future security.

I, therefore, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of my intentions, do solemnly publish and declare, That this Woman is, and of Right ought to be, a Free and Independent Person; that she is Absolved from all subjugation of others, that all responsibilities toward the happiness of others, is and ought to be totally dissolved; and that as a Free and Independent Person, she has full Power to decide her own feelings and behaviors, to claim her rights to privacy and freedom from Manipulation, Insult, and Injury, the right to petition for Time Alone and moments in which to Meditate or Collect her Thoughts, conclude Peace, contract Alliances, establish Commerce, and to do all other Acts and Things which Independent People may of right do. And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, I pledge to myself my life, Fortune, and on my sacred Honor pledge to respect of the above Rights of all others.

Celebrating Firsts

It’s funny now, to be celebrating firsts after celebrating lasts. But perhaps that is the best thing to do.

I did leave.

I did initiate the divorce.

It was the scariest damn thing I have done so far.

I have begun therapy, not only with a life coach, but with myself on my own time.

So now I celebrate firsts: the first holiday with the kids done my way, without the endless demands to be the perfect family, instead of the perfect family we already are, with all of our foibles and flaws.

This year, Thanksgiving will be about giving thanks, and not about trying not to spill on the table cloth (at least while they are with me. They will continue their other tradition later in the day).

Today is the first day of my journey, and every day has been the first day of my journey ever since July 23.

Happy Firsts, for sure.