GOOD ADVICE

Not Enough

In my thirty-three years of marriage, I was often barraged by my husband with abusive harangues of not being thin enough. I had let myself go since the children were born. I would not cater to his needs enough. The house wasn't clean enough. I wasn't organized enough, tidy enough, perfect enough. There were so many "not enoughs" that my self-esteem shattered and my self-worth was non-existent. He had me convinced I was such a loser I wasn't worthy enough to even live.

There were a few times I planned my death. I became obsessed with thoughts of driving my car into a telephone pole, or a wall, or off a cliff. At length, I became convinced that if I was such a horrible person, I didn't deserve to raise my children. I was not a good enough mother. My husband, who was perfect, would be up to the task because I didn't do a good enough job--of anything.

My friends saved me, as usual, by lifting me up and buoying up my psyche so that I was able to "consider" I might be "okay" enough to live. One of my friends, when she noticed how depressed I was, told me that if I ever had any thoughts of killing myself, to call her--no matter what time of the day or night. "Even if it's three o'clock in the morning--you call me!" she commanded. At that, I actually wondered, "If she loves me that much, maybe I am good enough."

I consulted a therapist for depression.  Of course, when she asked what was my problem, I just said, "I don't know." And in my mentally-defective mind, I just denied everything--even to myself. She suggested Prozac. I couldn't have lived through the last fifteen years of my marriage without it.

This photo was taken in August 1996 when I wasn't "thin enough."

Whenever I see the photograph above, I am reminded of my life at that time--tumultuous. About ten years earlier is when I had sunk into such a deep depression, I had the suicidal thoughts mentioned above. It was a struggle every day to live with my non-compassionate, unsympathetic, and narcissistic, abusive husband. I put on a good show in front of others--just as he did--pretending we had a perfect family. 

Two years after this photo, I had those same suicidal thoughts, but I had dealt with that dark side and vowed to myself and God that I would NOT kill myself. I sought therapy instead. Many times.

Two months after the above photo was taken, my world began to collapse, slowly, like the crack in a delicate egg. I had thought that, despite his abuse, my husband loved me. (All co-dependents think that way.) He was a good provider, and he was good with the kids, who loved him. I was "enduring" our marriage, yet still had that hope our relationship would work itself out somehow. I didn't realize then that, showing respect for their mother was what makes a good father. Being "good" with the kids only meant he sometimes had fun with them, but he was abusive toward them as well.

It was a Friday night in October. My husband was planning a business trip for Monday. It had been ages since we had been intimate. Since he had been unusually nice to me that day (yes, I hoped in days only), I made advances to him when he got in bed.

He pushed me away. I asked, "What's wrong?" but didn't want to know because it was probably something I did. He had never turned me away up until that time.

I tried again.  He pushed me away again. He leaned up on his arm, looked at me with disgust, and said, "I've lost my desire for you."  He rolled over on his side away from me as I lay next to him, questioning, his venomous words echoing in my brain.

"What? What do you mean? What does that mean?" I asked over and over, but got no response.

I angrily kept asking him. I pushed him and pulled on his shoulder and ranted, "What do you mean by that?" not able to process it in my brain, not caring if he would turn on me with verbal abuse--or even physical abuse.

With no reply whatever, I grew even angrier and began to punch him in the back, all the while questioning, "What do you mean, you've lost your desire for me? Tell me! Tell me!"

At that point, adding insult to injury, he feigned snoring.

I fell back on my pillow, my sobbing shook the bed. I couldn't control my anguish and humiliation. I tried to stifle my sobs, not wanting to wake the children, but I couldn't help it. My pillow was wet from my tears, and my sides ached from crying so hard and so loud.

No movement from him. None.

After that incident, I pulled away from any love I had for him. I had to break my bond with him. It was the only way I could save myself. I never let myself love him again. It was a long process, but an easy one, because he was very accommodating by being abusive to me. I stuck out the marriage for the sake of my children.

At that time, I was forty-two years old. I had four children, the youngest was five. I thought of my friends who had similar circumstances and wondered if their husbands had no desire for them. He always told me I was too fat--and I believed him, but losing weight didn't seem to bring any reward. I was always not enough in some way or another. If I lost weight, I wasn't toned enough. If I did aerobics or walked on the treadmill, it wasn't doing the job and I should have more self-control. Even the lady at Weight Watchers advised me not to lose any more weight when I was 125 pounds. They wouldn't be responsible for it.  My idiotic ex actually said, "Who do they think they are? Weight experts?"

My mother visited. It was Sunday after church. We were walking about in the yard admiring the flowers and she pulled out her camera and said, "Let me take a picture of you."

I said, "Oh, Mom, don't. I'm too fat. I don't want my picture taken."

My mother actually stomped her foot on the grass. "You are not too fat! You are beautiful! And I want to take a picture of my beautiful daughter!"

Because I wasn't cooperating--I just stood there--my mother further yelled, "Smile!" The look on my face shows a tentative smile, like, "Okay. I'll humor her. Who's going to see it anyway?" (Before the days of Facebook.)

 

Years later, after the Triple A divorce. I looked at that photograph again. I know I'm not beautiful, but I gasped as I saw I wasn't fat either! My therapist at the time tried to tell me I was a good weight for my age after having four children in my thirties. I figured she was humoring me too. But now I can see, at forty-two, I was pretty good for my age!

A big thank you to my mother for insisting on this picture. It has saved my self-esteem immeasurably. I still have that dress, by the way. It's a size "Small."

 

Now, twenty years later, I am angry again for letting him make me feel "not enough." If only I could have seen that I was enough--and way too good for him!!

After the divorce, I researched the effects of a pornography addiction and realized that was why I wasn't "enough" for him, and why he lost his desire for me. It wasn't my fault, though he never stopped blaming me--even after I found his porn. Who can compete with the teenagers in those porn DVDs and videos? I don't even want to. It disgusts me to this day.

I hate pornography.

Bloom Where You are Planted

This rings so true for me. There were times I was so depressed, I felt as if I was sinking in quicksand and I couldn't find any foothold with which to boost myself upward. I felt buried, but not only buried, but that pernicious roots and vines had engulfed me, wrapping around my whole body to keep me in my underground tomb.
In hindsight, I realize it as the refiner's fire taking me to a place I needed to be to realize I didn't want to be there anymore.
Now I am planted in a home 2,000 miles away from where I started, and blooming beautifully.

Verbal Abuse, Part III

By Susan Knight


I hope you will read Patricia Evans' books on Verbal Abuse. There are so many insights in those books.

If you are verbally abused, as I was, you will say "Ah-HA!" many times over when you realize the life you've been leading.

When I read her first book, I thought she had written my biography. I could relate to every page. I highlighted almost every sentence. The inside of the book was yellow. Seriously.

I direct you now to a website that addresses FAQs about verbal abuse.

This website addresses the questions:

• Is name-calling verbal abuse?
• He acts like it never happened
• Violence in the home is domestic violence, not a communication problem
• Has your husband "got" you?
• The "quiet" abuser
• When verbal abuse turns physical
• He turns it around and accuses me of abusing him
• Women are not turned on to abuse
• Verbal abuse is not your fault
• Should I forgive and forget?
• Why can't I leave him?
• Have I brought this abuse on myself?
• The many categories of verbal abuse:
• Abusive anger
• Criticizing
• Name Calling
• Threatening
• Blaming

Shame on me, but I could relate to each one of these categories, except for physical abuse. My marriage counselor, however, could see that it would soon turn that way and urged me to get out of my marriage. Bless him.

I grew up in a household of verbal and physical abuse. I thought that's how it was. Although I wanted love and respect, when I didn't get it, I just figured nobody did, no matter how hard I tried. I watched the old fifties television shows and wished I lived in those households where mothers and fathers loved each other and loved their children.

My mother lived in denial her whole married life until my father died. Sometimes, while in the throes of depression due to my ex's name-calling, blaming and verbal abuse, I would call my mother and tell her how unhappy I was. He had just yelled at me and was now outside working in the yard. Working off the anger, I thought.

She would say, "You just have to wait for him to get happy again." It was then that I knew I couldn't confide in my mother. I didn't want to have to wait for him to get happy again. It made me depressed. I wanted him not to be angry and yell and scream and accuse me of things. But that's how my mom dealt with her life. She knew my dad would "get happy again." She had that strength of will and that's how she survived it. Pure denial.

I was in my thirties when I found out my mother grew up with an alcoholic/abusive father. I never knew. My grandfather was an alcoholic and he physically abused my grandmother. My dad never hit or beat my mom, so maybe she thought she was a step up on my grandmother. You know, like, "Well, thank goodness, at least he doesn't beat me. He just yells and puts me down."

I have to admit, I grew up thinking my mother was stupid and lazy, because that's how my dad accused her. Until I was pregnant with my first child, I didn't realize how tired you got. My mom had eight children, the last six in seven years. Can you imagine how tired she was all the time? Not lazy. And when I was an adult, I realized I wanted my mom on my Trivial Pursuit team. She was as smart as a whip. She was a strategic and tactical saleswoman. She could sell anything, and did. She was not stupid. And she was not lazy. She could run rings around me and my sisters and brothers.

Please go to that website. See if it rings true for you. You will learn a lot. If you find yourself relating to any of those categories, I'm so sorry. Please seek help. Find someone to support you--a friend, a family member. Get counseling. It will help you find strength and courage. If you can't be helped, please get out and save yourself.

There's a whole, beautiful world that's not filled with abuse just waiting to welcome you.

A Woman's Plimsoll Line: an excerpt from my memoir

September 30, 2010

I found an interesting article on the internet about a woman’s plimsoll line. I didn’t even know what a plimsoll line was until I read it. It’s a marked waterline on the side of a ship used by sailors to let them know when the boat is filled and can’t take on any more cargo.

If you look at a plimsoll line as the “last straw” or “crossing the line,” then this analogy works very well for women who are/were abused or victims of infidelity. I hit my plimsoll line this year. I couldn’t take on any more of his nonsense. My burden over the years accumulated and it became too great to bear . . .

 

Each woman's plimsoll line is unique. Each woman's burden is her own to carry, or discharge if the line is breached.

 

I remember drawing that line, on the kitchen table, back in February. I told him, "This is the line. I am here. She is there, on the other side. You need to choose."

 

What I didn't know then was that the choice was really mine, and had been all along.

 

Just Sayin'

Be Kind. Sympathize.

Oh, how I know this so well. Looking back, I can't imagine what my friends thought of me. I always felt poorly. Depression, Lupus, Fibromyalgia, PTSD, Hypoglycemia, chronic back pain . . . these dis-eases invaded my body and made me old before my time. I was fighting a hard battle.
The reason why I am happily divorced is because I now have none of the autoimmunes. They all disappeared on my two-week, cross-country journey as I escaped the old and welcomed my new life.


I hope, if you are fighting a hard battle, if you suffer from dis-ease, you will feel well again, too.

PTSD—Post Traumatic Stress Disorder in Divorce: Part I

I call it Post Traumatic Stress Divorce.

It’s been almost three years since I fled to the west to escape my marriage and abusive, addicted, cheating husband. I call August 14th my Day of Freedom, the first full day after I left for good. I celebrated the first anniversary in 2011 with a party at my house with my close friends who knew my plight.

I know I must be healing a little bit because I used to fall asleep every night thinking of being abused and when I would wake up, the first thing I thought about was his abuse. It was as if I fell asleep watching a horror movie, then woke up and the movie was still on.

Those days only number about once a week now.

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, PTSD, used to be called Shell Shock when I was growing up during the Vietnam war. It was thought only people in the military, in battles where their lives were threatened to a great extreme, suffered from it. Now we know anybody who’s life has been threatened can be stressed like this.

When trust is compromised and your sense of safety is in distress, as in an abusive marriage, it’s only normal to think you’re crazy because your mind is going loopy (literally). During PTSD, caused by a crazy spouse, some people react like a deer in the headlights—paralyzed from fear, unable to stop their thoughts of the last time they were abused.

Sometimes it only takes a trigger, like a sentence on television, or even a conversation about marriage, to bring on my PTSD cycles. (Yes, I have been diagnosed with PTSD.) I can be sitting in church and get on a loop. It happened to me at a Weight Watchers® meeting last week. The instructor called on me saying I looked like I had a question. I didn’t even know what she was talking about. I said, “No, I’m just listening.”

I find I can shake myself out of it a lot easier now, but I know I have a long way to go.

While it’s normal to have nightmares and triggers from a traumatic event, the symptoms should only last a few days or weeks. PTSD sufferers may take years to recover, if they ever do.

HelpGuide.org is a good website that lists the symptoms and causes of PTSD. While verbal abuse and divorce aren’t listed as causes yet (physical abuse is), there is a disclaimer that states it can be caused by “. . . any shattering event that leaves you stuck and feeling helpless and hopeless.” Divorce lawyers and counselors are working to get "high conflict divorce" added to the list of PTSD causes. I think there should be a new classification cause on that list called “Traumatic Marriage.”*

According to the website, there are three main types of symptoms of PTSD:
1.     Re-experiencing the traumatic event
2.     Avoiding reminders of the trauma, and
3.     Increased anxiety and emotional arousal.

Symptoms of the first type:

1.     Upsetting memories of the event

2.     Flashbacks

3.     Nightmares

4.     Feelings of intense distress when reminded of the trauma

5.     Intense physical reactions to reminders of the traumatic event, like pounding heart, rapid heartbeat, muscle tension, sweating

Symptoms of the second:

1.     Avoiding activities, places, thoughts, feelings that remind you of the event

2.     Forgetting aspects of the trauma

3.     Loss of interest in life (depression, in my book)

4.     Feeling detached and emotionally numb

5.     Sense of a limited future or no normal life again

Symptoms of the third:

1.     Difficulty falling or staying asleep

2.     Irritability; outbursts of anger

3.     Difficulty concentrating

4.     Being on “red alert”

I'm imbued with all the symptoms of the first type, number one of the second type, and number one of the third type. Hoping to get past it all someday.

Does this all sound familiar? You might be suffering from PTSD. How do you cope? I'd like to know.


This is Part I of however many parts it will take to do this subject justice. Just like depression, PTSD is a part of a betrayed, abused spouse’s life.

Edit: psychologists now call PTSD from abuse and adultery in a marriage/divorce "Betrayal Trauma."

Are Autoimmune Disorders Eating You Alive?

By Susan Knight

Whenever I hear that women have autoimmune diseases I straight away think, "I wonder if they're having marital problems?"

It's a natural reaction. I suffered with autoimmune diseases my whole married life. They come on gradually, like that story about the frog that is tossed into a pot of tepid water. The burner is turned on and the frog doesn't notice the gradual change in temperature until it's too late and it's cooked.

I was cooked, so to speak. The last marriage counselor I went to told me, very bluntly, that I was going to die. He said either my husband was going to kill me because his verbal abuse would turn into physical abuse, or I would die from the inside out from all the autoimmune diseases I had. Fibromyalgia and lupus were the biggest, followed by allergies that were added to almost on a yearly basis.

What was miraculous to me was, as I escaped my marriage and fled out west, I noticed a decided change in how I felt--even while driving across the country.

An autoimmune disorder occurs when the body's immune system starts attacking itself. For instance, pollen isn't harmful to the body, but people with pollen allergies have immune systems that perceive the pollen to be harmful. The body releases antibodies to destroy the so-called invading substance.

Did you read that right?  Yes. The body starts attacking itself.

This happens often in abuse and sexual abuse cases. It's not enough that we're being abused or molested, but our bodies, which are screaming at us that something is wrong, finally start attacking from the inside. This, in my opinion*, is because we have used up all our resistance in fighting the outward attacker, and now the attack has gone inward, but is misplaced.

The body is saying, "Okay. I give up. I really can't take this anymore." But the abuse keeps coming and there is nothing left with which to fight it. The body knows something is wrong, so it goes berserk fighting anything that comes along that seems foreign.

Some auto-immune disorders include Allergies, Dermatomyositis (type of skin rash), Hashimoto's Thyroiditis, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, MS, Rheumatoid Arthritis, Lupus, Celiac Disease-sprue (gluten sensitivity), Fibromyalgia, Type II diabetes, Hypoglycemia. **

Joints, muscles, connective tissue, red blood cells, skin, blood vessels, endocrine glands--these all can be affected. Symptoms include fatigue, fever, rash, hives, malaise (feeling ill in general), muscle pain, joint pain, and many more.

I also believe these auto-immune diseases cause situational depression and even major depressive episodes (what we used to call nervous breakdowns) because we don't feel well and don't know why. Everyone thinks we're hypochondriacs. We're not wearing band-aids, or casts.

The depression is two-fold. It's caused by being ill-treated by an abuser, plus being misunderstood by our friends.* Who wants to be around a downer person? So we put on a happy face to look good.

But a depression discussion will be left for another post.

Until then, examine your life. Is your body screaming at you?

Mine did. It was like a voice within me that was suppressed down in the basement or a dungeon, banging on the door, screaming, "Listen to me! Let me out! You know I'm right!"

But I wouldn't let it out. I wouldn't acknowledge it. I knew, deep, deep down, it was my husband who was causing me to feel like this. But I had to maintain the perfect family facade. I had to save face, look good.

I'm begging you. Please listen to your body. Your psyche, your inner self, knows you and only wants the best for you.

Listen, even though you're scared.  Don't wait thirty-three years like I did. Start to love yourself, and get help, if you need it.

The up side is, I am so much happier with myself. It's still hard to show emotion, though. I had to suppress it for so long. I have to remind myself to smile, or laugh. I am worthy to do those things, even though my abuser made me feel less worthy to show emotion--of any kind.

It's my prayer that my readers will realize they are worthy to be loved, to show emotion, trusting that the love is reciprocated by so many. I know it's hard. I am still trying. It's probably one of the steps I have left to climb. But I will succeed. . . some day.

*This is just my opinion, though I'm sure psychologists could back it up, like my marriage counselor did
**http://www.nlm.nih.gov/medlineplus/ency/article/000816.htm

Excerpt from My Memoir--verbal abuse

November 24, 2009

I am the loneliest married woman in the world. I can’t talk to my husband because he takes everything I say the wrong way. For instance, I know he likes to ride his bike and he was upset one day because he heard it was going to rain.

“Oh, no, I heard it's going to be sunny,” I told him, smiling.

He yelled, “Do you have to disagree with everything I say?”

I thought it would make him happy to hear it wasn’t going to rain, but it didn’t.

I just try to keep neutral. I neither smile nor frown. When I’m around him, my face is frozen like it’s lost the ability to move a muscle.  If he says something to me, I just say, “Uh-huh,” and say nothing more.

I forgot not to comment about the weather.

I’ve been married over thirty years and except for maybe the first two, I’ve been verbally abused. The first two were testing the waters for him. I failed miserably in the test. I actually had opinions about things. I found out quickly that wasn’t allowed.