Last night was really rough. I spent a great deal of hours working on the site and trying to perfect it and then at about three I made the ridiculous attempt to go back to sleep – it did not work out so well. Instead I spent a couple more hours triggering myself and having waking mares about my childhood and early days.
I kept going back to mom’s old boyfriend, I could see it perfectly. His rage, his anger, I could remember details I had long since forgotten. I remember how he always blamed mom and myself for his actions – He never took responsibility and of course my brother was never to blame. He was a man who disliked women. That much I know to be true.
I remember to the very detail the time he slapped me across the face so hard he left his hand print on my cheek for a full week; I remember having to go back to his house with my mother and a police officer to retrieve my school books – I remember looking him in the face and watching him apologize….”You know I’m sorry right? that I didn’t mean it?” I just nodded. I remember not being sure how I felt, other then angry, and hurt.
I remember a night when he asked me all kinds of questions – trying to prove my mother had cheated on him – He was so very drunk, I can almost smell the whiskey; I remember eventually saying yes just to get him to stop peppering me with questions. I remember he beat her badly that night – they both blamed me. She because she had not been there to know what he’d done and he because he couldn’t bother to realize what he had done to his child.
I realize now that night was the night I became susceptible to conversion of thought – or however its referred I spend a great deal of time questioning myself, questioning what I believe or what I think because I’m not sure if it is what I think or believe or if it is because someone has convinced me I do. This is the price of abuse.
I can pinpoint the moment I realized I was okay with getting hit, bitten, set on fire, held over roofs, because hey my father did it, kids at school did it, obviously it was okay right? It is how people like me are supposed to get treated.
The scariest part is that I have met someone who I like very much – We have this whole mutual respect thing going on and yet in the back of my mind there is a very strong part of me that is waiting for the day he lashes out in anger and takes a swipe at me.
I don’t mean verbal – I have long since learned to stand up against people when they yell at me or are rude and angry. I can say “hey hang on don’t talk to me that way” but I still haven’t learned to deal with the physical. I can get belligerently drunk and throw a punch when I have to, but when I am hit – when I am hit by a man I shut down. I do not know how to react how to defend myself – I still get that feeling of “I can’t believe that just happened, am I crazy?”. Then I shut down. I shut down and I feel like I almost leave my body.
If the man I am seeing where to turn around and beat me with a belt I know I would let it happen – because I am still not at the point where I can defend myself. I feel like I should take a self defense class but of course I cannot afford that, so I am stuck in this never ending cycle waiting for the day any man I care about turns around to beat me black and blue.
The insane part about it is that I haven’t even met this man and as much as I trust him I still worry about what might happen or could happen.
My friend Nick once told me that “Not every Man will hit a woman” but the sad truth is that in my life every man I have ever been with has abused me in one way or another – I am drawn to the darkness because it is what feels comfortable and normal.
I don’t cut myself – I let myself get beat because it is all I know. I don’t know how to be in a healthy relationship because I never have been.
It is grossly unfair to expect any man to be able to handle the volumes of emotional baggage that I carry around with me – it would be selfish to expect that any man could. By the same token I am just selfish enough to hold on because as the Misterly type often says, we owe it to ourselves to find out where this can lead.
So that was last night and this is today. Another day when I am haunted by memories and nightmares, while laying in bed sick as a dog praying I get better soon.