Saturday, 13 October 2012
Sharing: This is someone else's story but I found it so touching that I had to share...
When I was nineteen, I was kicked out of my mother’s house. At the time, I understood abuse as hitting or raping; I didn’t know that such a thing as emotional abuse occured, or that it could be just as damaging as the physical or sexual varieties. Nor did I know that it could rear its ugly head in so many different ways.
Very soon after I was kicked out, I met a man whom I will call Aaron. He seemed beautiful, in every way. We got very close very fast, and within a matter of weeks, claimed each other as boyfriend and girlfriend. To escape my living situation (I had an apartment with horrible room mates), I spent more and more nights in Aaron’s bed. Soon, I was spending whole weeks there without once going home. After a few months, we decided to get an apartment together, but I had to move between states on a low income. I remained on the lease with my room mates to keep my vehicle legal while I worked to fund the repairs for state inspection, and was unable pay for rent at Aaron’s house during that time.
I should take a minor break and tell you that I believed myself to be a strong woman. I had been abused in my parents’ house, and I thought I knew what abuse was all about. I knew all the facts: abused people abuse others, women who are abused as children are much more likely than their unabused counterparts to be caught in the same cycle. I remember hearing about the incident with Rhianna and Chris Brown, and I remember thinking “That will never happen to me.” I understood that my best friend was caught in a cycle of abuse, but I had no clue that that was exactly what was happening to me.
You see, as time passed, Aaron slowly caught me up in that same vicious abuse cycle. It began with little comments made in a temper fit, easily justified by his “bad mood.” Those comments got worse, especially when I lost 20 hours a week at my job and lost my car, and had to rely on him completely. He blamed it on stress. He told me I was a loser, he told me that I had a million problems; that I was a workload and a codependent. He told me that I was broken, and that I always had been, and only he could fix me. I never questioned him. I believed him.
In the span of a year, he stole my confidence, my self-esteem, and my self-reliance. He removed me from my position of stability and put me in a position where I had nothing to give to myself, emotionally or economically. I was trapped.
Then, one night, after the only fight in which I held my ground, he did what he had never done before and started carting my possessions down to the street. He said, “you don’t live here, your name is not on the lease, you need to leave or I’m calling the police.” I left, I found myself a one-bedroom apartment, and began with nothing, not even a bed.
I stayed with him for another year, enduring the emotional turmoil because I loved him and because I didn’t believe I was worth a better man. Then, one night, he told me that he had dropped his standards to be with me. I tried to leave him then, but he begged me to stay. A week after that, in a “stressful” situation, he kicked me out of his car on a dark, cold, rainy night, miles from the nearest town. He did swing back around to pick me up, but I demanded to be taken home, and he said “If you ruin this night, I’ll never speak to you again.” I said: “OK.”
Right now, I’m working on a degree in psychology. I plan on taking it all the way up to the Master’s level so that I can practice psychotherapy. I’m still poor, but I have resources and connections now that I never would have considered when Aaron was my entire reality. I know men whose only agenda for their women is to provide for, protect, and love them. I also believe in myself, I discovered the vast potential within me that exists in every human being.
What did I learn about abuse?
Emotional abuse is just as damaging as physical or sexual, albeit in different ways, and is often more dangerous because of its subtlety. It can happen to anybody, even the smartest, most ass-kicking woman on the planet.
Abusers don’t abuse you because there’s something wrong with YOU. Something inside of them is broken, and you can’t fix it. Oh, they may blame you for it all the time, but that does not make it your fault, or your responsibility.
What did I learn about myself and my relationships?
1. NEVER let another person make you believe you are broken and they are the only one who can fix you. Your flaws are your responsibility. No human can be your savior.
2. NEVER let another person define your mistakes or imperfections for you. What you like about yourself and what you don’t like about yourself are up to you to decide, no other person has that right.
3. KNOW that a man who’s worth that title will provide for you and protect you, that he will never trap you, and that if he does hurt you, he will shake the world to make it better.
4. KNOW that you, yes, little old you, are a gift to the whole world. You are not a workload, a project, a security blanket, or a sidekick, and nobody should ever make you feel that way.
You have it within you to move mountains and boil seas. You are the person who endures immeasurable pain to bring life into the world. You are the person swimming against the socioeconomic tide to make something of yourself. You are the person who will give every little bit of yourself to make another person happy. Love yourself for what you give to the world, and never settle for a man who doesn’t see what you give too.
By Kate Phillips