I'm not entirely sure how it came to all this. When we first got together people saw us as a match made in heaven. Between you and I, he was just a rebound. I didnt even like him that much. For some reason, I kept him around, I think because he wanted me. The moments between us were thick with tension from the beginning but it wasnt ever totally romantic for me. He accused me of being unkind to him often and I blamed it on being drunk...though, in actuality, I knew I was being unkind to him...I just was trying to protect him from myself because I didnt even love him, though I knew he loved me. How the tables turned.
As time went on he did covert things like, move me into his apartment bag by bag and before I knew it, I was his live-in girlfriend. Then he started to get angry over normal things like me maybe drinking too much. Understandable, right? who wants to be around a girl who is emotionally disturbed and drunk all the time? The thing is, when he got angry, he was violent.
During our first fight he threw a stack of DVD's at my head as I walked down the street. In our second fight, he ranted and raved for over an hour, never letting me edge a word in. I decided to sleep downstairs which only infuriated him more and encouraged him to drag me up 2 flights of stairs by my feet. After that the fights blur into one another and the screaming matches compete for recognition. Our fights were bad. Violent. In the beginning, I was unafraid to get into his face and scream back. I threw things back. I simply WALKED away.
But overtime there was a new kind of abuse that took place. An abuse I am just now starting to see and recognize.
There were endless mind games. Games where he refused to touch me. Games where he wouldnt look at me or make eye contact for weeks at a time. Games where he would make me beg for affection. Games where he would shred an opinion of value to me into teeny pieces and berate me for my simplistic thinking. He lied to me constantly about what was going on in his life. He created entire elaborate fantasies...that I had no choice to believe because I didnt know any better. He enjoyed finding ways to deny my simple pleasures but provide large ones having nothing to do with what I really wanted. If I loved someone he cooked them down until they were little more than a watery, flavorless broth and I drank it up. Every drop.
There were few moments of true joy in the three years I was with him, but when I experienced them he found ways to make them painful and frightening. When I saw my 7 year old for the first time in 3 years, I cried tears of joy on the way home. I couldnt stop talking about my son's beautiful face and suddenly, Josh started to rant about our car and how we wouldnt make it home. There was nothing wrong with that car. He just didnt want me to be happy. On Christmas day, instead of enjoying hot cocoa with Jude and I, instead of eating the home cooked feast I had prepared, he sequestered himself off in our room and hit walls because his tooth hurt. His tooth didnt hurt. I know that now.
I was a prisoner in our home when his restaurant opened. He worked for 16 hours a day...he refused me access to my car stating he needed it more....though he had his own vehicle. About once every two weeks he gave me extra spending money to buy the things I wanted. These days were like water on a parched tongue and I drank up as much as my attention starved soul could take in. I always paid for those days...in one way or another. In a fight, he never ceased to sacrifice himself on the alter of money, long work hours and Old navy shopping trips. I should have never taken a dime from him. He screamed "I'M NEVER GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU! I'M NOT ENOUGH!!!" But when I said "No. YOU ARE enough..but I want YOUUUU...not STUFF!", he merely slammed the bedroom door shut, knowing I would not follow him.
I asked him to find time to be with us. I begged for recognition, a look, a touch...anything that would tell me we were still fighting for the same thing...but I received nothing but ipods, dresses and perfume. The day came when he finally said "NO. I will not find the time to be with you more. It's just not there." and I stayed. I stayed. even after his flat out denial of the ONE thing I wanted. He lost me that day...emotionally speaking. The thing is...I was just too afraid to walk out that door. After several death threats during raucous arguments I was afraid to leave him, afraid of what he might do to the people I loved if he couldnt find me. I stayed because I had nothing to my name, except outstanding bills and a newborn. I stayed because I had been sequestered inside my dungeon for so long I had grown stagnant. Perhaps I had a mild version of Stockholm Syndrome. At any rate...I separated my heart from him a long time ago. I didnt touch any more. I didnt look at him any more. I didnt talk to him any more. That is, after all, what he wanted.
I spent my days dreaming of love. I dreamed of being held by someone who thought I was precious. I sang love songs to myself and imagined someone really felt that way about me. I learned to feel things when he wasnt around and shut myself down when he was home.
I think he knew that he had lost me because he became obsessed with what I did. He stalked my Facebook, he stalked my friend's Facebooks, he ran through our television's history to see what i had been watching, he checked my phone's history regularly to see what I was saying and who i was saying it to...he made ridiculous accusations of infidelity and even grew angry at mere jokes of masturbation.
Meanwhile, something was changing inside me. A light began to flicker inside me. It had nothing to do with him and I knew it. I tried to make it go away, I tried so desperately to fit into his box but this light was relentless; it could not be extinguished. I believe he saw it as well because his grip on me tightened. Our fights lasted longer and he became more emotionally/verbally/mentally abusive. He called me horrific names. Threatened consequences for mere infractions. I was in HELL and constantly afraid. The more afraid I became, the more anxious I grew which angered and annoyed him further. He would berate me for hours, screaming at me for being simple and retarded.
But that light flickered. And for some reason, I protected that little light. I fed that little light my dreams and watched the sparks fly. At night, though I woke up sobbing and and heaving, I remembered sweet moments. Moments in my dreams where I was walking on rainbows, hand in hand with tall men who thought I was lovely. That light kept me warm in the bleakest winter I have ever endured.
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