Let’s Talk About Sex

Well, at some point it was going to come down to this.  I am nothing if not honest and brutally honest at that.  Mostly because I don’t care and also because what do I gain by not telling the complete truth – or something that at least borders the complete truth.  There is only one person in my life that knows everything so I guess I need to hold back at least a little something from the rest of you.  We’ll see.

Here we go.

As a woman who has lived with domestic violence since the age of 17, which for most of the female world coincides with a blossoming libido, what is one to do?  If you’ve been reading the story as I’ve been laying it out there for you, you must know by now my husband was not my first. Neither was my Ex (although he should’ve been).  No, I started young. Younger, I should say because let’s face it 17 is pretty damn young in today’s day and age.  However, in the 80’s, mid teenagedom was just about right. At least for my group of friends and honestly for most of the people I knew in the neighborhood.  Even as we became adults and reminisced about our youth and “first time” we were not that far apart from each other when we started. It seems no one really waited until they were out of their teens much less waited for marriage.  Point being, I sewed some oats.

In case you are not familiar with my story, my husband was a (22 year old) virgin when I started dating him.  Nothing is wrong with that at all, in fact it was surprising in a good way.  It just didn’t fit his bad boy persona so that was the only reason that it seemed odd.  After two months of dating we finally took the big step and after seven months of dating I was pregnant.  In that time frame, he also started to hit me.  I was just so wrapped up in being his girlfriend that I didn’t really dwell on that.  It would happen, he would apologize and we’d move on.  Obviously, over the years we continued to have sex because I had two more children.

Over the years, he never really seemed overly excited about sex.  I always thought it was because he knew he wasn’t my first so in his mind he may have been wondering how he compares.  Of course, I couldn’t give pointers without it being obvious that I knew more about it then he did.  So it was always somewhat awkward – at least until I lowered my expectations.  After a few years of intense fighting – things stopped.  Not so much the sex part but we stopped kissing somewhere around year two or three.  Like…stopped.  No more “making out” with your significant other.  For those of you who have ever been in love or just love kissing in general…can you even imagine?  On top of that because I am hating him for the way he is treating me I stopped the “I love you” bullshit as well.  So barely into my early 20’s and all of that is done. However, I still have sex with him if for no other reason then to have one less thing to argue about.

Two kids and 20+ years later, I hate him more than ever.  Most of my close friends know I can’t stand him. They have no idea of the abuse just in the loathing. It seems not many people are too thrilled with their husbands either. The differences being, as far as I’m aware, they are not being abused and they are also not having sex.  And when asked of me they are shocked to hear…yes, I’m still having sex.  Has it gotten better over the years?  Thank the Lord, yes.  Do I still hate him? Absolutely. But I have needs too…and I can imagine being with anyone else while he does his best.  And the end result, it is still one less thing to argue about.

This brings us to our current state of affairs…I have cut his ass off.  I have no desire to be touched by him no matter how hard I imagine I am with someone else.  We don’t really sleep in the same room anymore which has helped tremendously.  Not for lack of him trying either.  He usually brings it up within 15 minutes of being home from work. Usually stating…tonight’s the night. And I laugh and say, yeah…okay.  But more so because he falls asleep on the couch and I leave him there.  So we’ve now come to that point in time where he is getting pissed off about it.  He decided he wanted to argue about it last night telling me…”You better stop doing what you’re doing” as in – holding out.  I looked at him and matter of factly said…”What I’m doing? You must be kidding me!” And I quickly run down the list of complaints from his less than exciting repertoire starting with not being kissed for 23 years.  From there on you can see his facial expression quickly change from demanding to oh damn, she can do better. He huffed and puffed about it for a couple of minutes more and then shut the fuck up.

Seriously, I know (especially for any man that might be reading this) no man wants to be held out on – most especially from his wife, but this one needs to get used to it.  It would be so much more helpful if he would go out there and find a girlfriend but it’s clear he is insecure on so many levels of his manhood, thus the physical violence.  He would barely know how to approach another women let alone actually bed one down.  No worries about me though.  Luckily, women are resilient and I am oh so fine.  It helps that I am starting to get regular visitation with the Ex and of course sexting does wonders.

I’m not really sure what the point of my story was. I guess, unfortunately, I am aware that at some point before I am out of here I will have to give it up if for nothing else but for leverage out of an argument.  Bleh.

Figuring It All Out

Yet again, I should be sitting down to catch up on work that has been taking a backseat to my thoughts over the past several weeks but instead here I am – slacking off, again.  It’s like my brain is on overdrive thinking about all I have taken in over the past two months and all I have let out.  Now, it’s about what to do with that which has been let out.

Have you ever seen the movie Poltergeist? At one point, Craig T. Nelson’s character started off acting romantic with his wife who didn’t notice anything different but his actions quickly became insatiable and she finds herself fighting him off only to see him turn around and throw up the evil spirit that had taken over his body.

Well, I’m sort of feeling somewhat similar.  With finally talking about my abuse I have let out all of the evil that has held me down for so long.  However, I still feel like something is holding on.  As if the evil spirit has been let out but is holding on to my foot still trying to drag me down with it…as I hold on for dear life to something stronger than it.  I just can’t see what it is that I’m holding on to that is keeping me afloat.  My sanity?  My determination?  My own physical strength?  I’m not sure.  I feel like I am in a bizarre state of limbo, almost as if I am standing at another [fork in the road].

This whole experience of telling my story has been inexplicable.  My story and your stories have carried me to a place of openness in where I don’t care who knows.  I want to say it loud and proud.  I want people to see the man I have been living with for who he really is.  To them, yes he may be the loudest neighbor on the block, but he is an overall good guy. To them, he will always help a neighbor out. He is a strict and loving father.  He is a hard working man whose main goal is to provide for his family.  So what if he’s a little loud and argues with his wife once too often.  I’m sure they’ve all argued with their spouses.  So what if he curses like a maniac as soon as he walks in the door from work because something didn’t get done (e.g. watering plants). I’m sure he must’ve had a hard day at work and was hoping the one thing he asked to get done was actually done.  So what if he threatens to punch his wife in the head or even kill her.  I’m sure he doesn’t mean it, after all she’s still there so it must just be him venting with overly violent verbiage.  If she can deal with it – so can the neighbors.

What amazes me is in the last 25 years we have lived in three different locations.  In every place there has been abuse.  Not once, ever, did anyone call the police.  Of course, I always feared what would happen if they did because he would quietly tell me that if the cops show up to the door he will shoot me first and then put the gun down open the door and kneel on the ground with his hands on his head.  What the fuck is that?  Sounds like something he had thought through.  Always sounded logical enough to me that I would not want the cops at my door.  I think it just kept me from screaming or crying loud enough for anyone to hear.  It’s just shocking -because there have been some doozies- that no one once, not ever, called.  Then again, who am I to talk, I never called the cops on him either.

Anyway, it’s hard for me to relate the way I am currently feeling.  That’s why I am trying to be descriptive by example.  Another would be…the butterfly emerging from it’s cocoon only to find that it’s lower half is unable to break free.  I’m sure there is something metaphoric between the two instances that came to my head…the evil spirit and the butterfly.  Your mind always has a way of trying to bring your subconscious to your conscious self.  To make you understand in a way that is tangible to you.  So here I am, trying to figure out why I feel stagnant.

Since I’m aware that I have some time before I am out and now have the informative stepping stones of getting my act together and setting up and planning everything I need in order to make my exit swift and safe with the least amount of damage, that maybe–just maybe, there is more to it.  I’m left wondering if there is more to this.  More that I have to accomplish before shaking off this part of my life for good.  Whether it be physical or spiritual or something else.  There is something, I just can’t put my finger on it.

Every once in a while, I get these feelings.  Sometimes an overwhelming feeling of sadness or just very lethargic and it turns out to be something happening to someone who is very close to me.  This time though, it’s very real that the person is me.  I’m sorry if all of this sounds a bit disconcerting.  For those who have come to know me here it may be out of the ordinary for me not to sound so exact and to the point of what I’m trying to get across.  This is part of why I have been unable to focus on work.  Mostly because I have been purely unable to focus – on anything.  I’m thinking and rethinking and planning and wondering and it’s got me all perplexed.  For those of you who have been able to leave…were you feeling this way?  Is this part of the process or am I overwhelmed by all I have revealed and all that I have been reading of others’ situations of abuse and escape?

Maybe all of this boils down to straight up fear that I won’t be able to pull this off or maybe the unsettling feeling is that I can and will and he doesn’t take it well.  How long will I have to hide?  Will I put my kids in danger?  When will my life be normal and peaceful?  Geez.  I have so much to work on.  I can see that unloading my burden of abuse was just the tip of the iceberg.

Depend On Yourself

Another gem. So simple yet how many of us actually do this?

Speak The Truth

My voice still shakes just a little.

Battered Wife Q & A

Here’s something a little different.  Usually, in deciding on what topic I want to write about next, I think of a situation with my husband or my Ex that stands out in my memory and how it made me feel.  I take myself back to that time to bring up how I felt when it was happening and pretty much once I start typing it just flows.  Sometimes I may even cut short what I’m saying so it’s not so long of a story that the person reading skims through or gives up.  But this time I wanted to do something else.  Instead of me just going off about one certain incident and how it affected me, I’m wondering what you guys are thinking.

This is for all of those who have been keeping up with me for the past two months and even if you’ve only read one or a few of my posts, it doesn’t matter.  Please ask me something, anything about what I’ve already written about or something you are wondering about in general.  Like I said, I’ve hit on a lot of subjects that have been in the front of my mind for all of these years but maybe one of your questions will pull something out that I have been holding in that I’m not even aware of.  I am interested to see where this may lead so no question is out of line.  I don’t insult easy so no worries about hurting my feelings.

Maybe this will work out the way I’m anticipating or maybe it will be a flop.  I have to admit, this is a little scary.  I’m a semi-controlling personality so the fact that I have no idea what people will ask has got me a little….yikes!  Thanks in advance…wish me luck! 🙂

The Versatile Blogger Award

When I made the decision to start blogging I couldn’t even imagine that anyone would be interested in my story.  I figured it was just going to be me writing – as if in a diary – and not much more.  Well…it’s been SO much more.  More then I ever could have imagined.  And now…I’ve been nominated for The Versatile Blogger Award!  I’d like to thank Cerridwynn for nominating me.  I’ve come across many blogs that have awards listed and again I thought, nah. I’m lucky people are reading.  This was a nice surprise.

In checking out what this is all about I find that there are indeed some rules that need to be followed.  I was never known for my ability to follow the rules but here we go:

• Thank the person who gave you this award and include a link to their blog.
• Select 15 blogs/bloggers that you feel deserve The Versatile Bloggers Award and include a link to their blog.
• Finally, tell the person who nominated you 7 things about yourself.

Here are the 7 things about me:

1) I love to cook/bake for friends and family.
2) Ironically, my favorite colors are black and blue.
3) I’ve never tried any drugs in my entire 43 years.
4) I love to sing but my voice was not meant to.
5) I have a strange knack for giving great advice but not for taking any of my own.
6) Every job I ever interviewed for I got…except once.
7) I used to work for a psychic hotline reading tarot cards.

My 15 nominees for The Versatile Blogger Award – in no particular order:

1) Fragments of Life

2) Hacker. Ninja. Hooker. Spy.

3) Deliberate Donkey

4) The Left Side

5) Fat Bottom Girl Said What

6) Soaring Survivor

7) In Potentia

8) Many Small Voices

9) I Have Found My Voice and I Refuse to Shut Up

10) Reflections of Childhood

11) Picking Up The Pieces

12) The Weaving Serpent

13) booknvolume

14) Omtatjuan

15) Drawn Strings

New Beginnings

Let’s hope so.

Take The Step

This is the most perfect phrasing that I could have come across. I’m ready to take the step.

The Flip Side

It’s been two months since I started this blog-o-rific journey.  Deciding to tell my story of marital abuse to everyone who stops by.  Yes, it has most definitely been more therapeutic than I anticipated.  I love writing.  I don’t even care anymore that all of my dirty laundry is out there for all to see…well, most of it anyway.  Whenever I have a chance, I come by to read what every one else is posting.  There are times I have neglected work and spent hours being impressed by stories and poetry.  Actually, I’ve blown off work more often then not in the last two months.  Luckily, I’m the boss.  But still.  This is why I haven’t written anything all week.  Been playing catch-up.  Except for right now – while I should be working I couldn’t help but come by and say something.

So, aside from just getting back on track with work, I also had my cousin’s wedding to attend this past weekend.  Usually, I am depressed when I go to these events because I never had a big wedding, didn’t have a white gown or a party.  Just me, my 5 month old fetus and my abuser. Oh, and our parents to bear witness on this less than holy event.  In a make shift chapel in a court room.  A cold room, on cold snowy day, for what would become a cold heartless marriage.  I digress.  As per my usual preparation for attending any wedding, I was anxious the entire week before and basically couldn’t wait for it to be over.  The best part about when I attend these things is that my husband does not come with me.  He could care less about anything to do with my family so at least when I do go, it’s peaceful.

Two nights before the ceremony was the rehearsal dinner.  I was part of that because I was doing a reading at the alter for my cousin, which is another reason I was riddled with anxiety.  After the rehearsal was dinner at a local pub that has a separate party room in the back.  This way the guests are not part of the “bar scene” up front.  Everyone had a great time.  Seeing family members that I haven’t seen in years was nicer than expected.  By the time I was ready to leave, I was more on the way to being excited then anxious.  It was towards the end of the night and some of the guests started to leave.  I was ready to go too.  As I made my way to the front of the house, heading towards the exit, there is a familiar face sitting at the bar…not facing the bar…so I would’ve walked past likely not taking notice of his presence, but instead he was (the only one) facing the pathway to the exit.  Within seconds our eyes locked and we both smiled.  It was my Ex.

We talk on a regular basis, even speaking with him earlier in the day, but he had no idea where the dinner was going to be.  This was a total fluke.  An awesome one at that.  Of course, I stop by and say hello.  Ask how long he had been there.  Shocked by the entire situation of him being there and sitting in the direction he was.  I said hello to the friend he was with who I also know.  And as I am saying my goodbyes, he leans over and whispers into my ear…”I need you to stop by tomorrow”.  And yes, all that sappy love stuff happened, the ridiculous grin, my heart was jumping, the butterflies were flapping…geez, what a girl.  I can’t help it though…I love him.  Always have, always will.  So, I laughed because I was almost sure he had no idea what he had just said.  Who knows how much he had to drink – even though it couldn’t have been much since he was only there for an hour.  So I indulged.  I told him it was probable I’d be able to do that and that I’d call in the morning.

This right here is the flip side of my life of hell.  Over the years, we have had times that we speak regularly, almost daily, now the texting, and when I’m able, going over for a visit.  Of course, there are only so many excuses I can use as to why I am going to be out the entire day being as I work from home.  So it’s not often but when it can be done…it gets done.  This request for a visit was fresh off of the heels of another visit just two weeks prior.  He’s letting his guard down.  Even though we’ve had a somewhat decent communication over the years the truth still was I left him for a man that not only abused me but that I am still with.  That stings.  It always will.  There is no healing that.  At least not while we’re in the present.  So he’s always guarded just a little.  If he let’s his wall down reality sneaks in and hits him in the gut all over again.  So I always tread lightly.  Even though I live with the reality on a daily basis it still hurts when I am having a great day with him and then I have to leave to come to this .. crap.

Our last few visits have been different though…because we recently spent our first night together.  Can you even imagine?  He has had my heart since 1986 and we are STILL having firsts.  I was able to swing an overnight trip out of state.  To “visit my family” which this moron (my husband) has no use for so I don’t get questioned.  Although, I usually take one of the kids to tag along – except for this time.  We went to visit a mutual friend a few states away.  So, it was our first road trip, our first over night and the first time we could be in public without fear.  It was so nice.  It was more than relaxing.  We were at peace.  Our friend knows the entire situation.  That’s the one I mentioned in earlier posts that is my one and only that knows everything.  So he’s more than a friend.  He’s family.  Everything about those two days was just amazing and I think we’ve both been riding a high since.  My friend keeps saying how something has happened since our visit.  The universe is shifting.  Things are falling into place.

A couple of weeks later, I started blogging and ever since I am starting to feel it too.  I know my time is coming to a close here and it is starting to feel like all of this is possible.  Most especially since after my last visit this past weekend he said to me…I’m falling in love with you all over again.  That was it.  Pick me up off the floor please.  He never puts his heart out there like that.  It’s just an unspoken word.  I know how he feels and he knows how I feel.  We don’t really discuss it because it brings all of the other sad reality into the mix.  But…HELLO!!!  I nearly died from a heart attack right then and there.  I’ve always believed in my future with him once I am out of this hell but with that … it was just so real.  The universe gave me that one – a freebie to hang on to – to keep the faith.

The next day at the wedding, I was so happy.  My cousin and her husband are so in love.  A beautiful couple.  It was a beautiful ceremony and reception.  I could see myself in the future at our wedding.  I enjoyed every moment that night and look forward to when I am up there dancing with my man.  For now I will hold on while the universe guides me out of this nonsense and back into my true reality.  I. Can’t. Wait.

Missing Ingredient

This existential journey I decided to take has been pretty amazing.  Who knew several weeks ago I would have been more excited about getting on a blog to read stories, poems, random thoughts written by strangers rather than sign into Facebook even once the entire day to read anything posted by people I’ve known forever.  Even more so, that anything I would be reading would have such an impact on me or that I would become so interested in the people writing these tidbits.  What’s more mind blowing is that anyone became interested in not only reading my story but also relating it to theirs. Some of you who have reached out have become regulars and I always look forward to hearing from you and appreciate the offering of your kind words.

As I have been surfing WordPress in this uplifting topic of Domestic Violence (there goes my sarcastic streak), there have been many stories written about that one thing.  The missing ingredient I can’t quite grasp on to.  That would be…forgiveness.  Of course, from a religious standpoint we are taught to forgive.  It is the right thing to do.  It’s good for our soul, and so forth and so on.  What we’re not told, is that forgiving someone is hard as a mother—.  It’s the flip side of sin.  We know sinning is wrong.  (I’d like to believe) Most of us do not wake up and say to ourselves, “how can I sin today”?  We wake up, go about our daily routine and…sin happens.  No matter what type of righteous path we hope to be on the real story is we screw up and hopefully wake up tomorrow and try again.

My biggest problem is I’m not sure I want to forgive.  Of course, I can forgive the petty stuff.  For instance, if my friend said or did something that bothered me I may let it go and do the old forgive and forget thing. Mostly because I value our friendship more than some trivial misstep or maybe because I know it was not intentionally done to harm me.  Which leads me right to the question…how can I forgive my husband for years of abuse?  Obviously there is no forgetting.  I can’t really be expected to wake up one morning and say…”remember when….oh wait, I can’t remember”.  But for some reason bigger than us I should say…”hey, you know what…I totally forgive you for punching me in the head all those times.  No biggie”.   It’s not like if I forgive then he’s going to be a normal person.  Why do I have to cave in and forgive a person who has no intention on changing?  It’s not like I want any sort of relationship with the man.  Marriage, friendship or anything else.  Even if we came to a mutual agreement and he said. “Hey … you go ahead and move on. Have a great life.”  It’s not like I’d be inviting him over for Sunday Night Football.  When the ties are severed…that’s it.

So what am I missing?  Don’t get me wrong, I completely understand that it somehow relates to my own personal healing.  I get it. Really I do. It’s just going from understanding it to applying it is where I am stuck.  My feet are literally in the mud and I won’t budge.  If this is the only key to me moving on what am I supposed to do?  There is no doubt that when I walk out of this door – if he backs down and does not follow me, stalk me, threaten me, or jeopardize my children’s life or my life then maybe after a few years pass and I feel safely away from him, maybe then, I can begin to forgive him.  Even as much as I hate him after all these years, I do not think he wakes up or comes home from work looking to start an argument.  I know it boils down to him having issues beyond his control.  I just don’t care is all.

The other aspect of this that I have been reading about is…not in forgiving him but in forgiving myself.  That really struck me.  I’ve been seeing that pop up A LOT over the past couple of days.  I almost felt like I was being sent a sign.  Helping me to see that it’s not about forgiving him and that I need to forgive me.  Now that really started me thinking.  Yes, I absolutely need to forgive myself for some things but how do I forgive myself for his crap?  Even though it means nothing because it’s only words shouldn’t he be apologizing?  Shouldn’t anyone be apologizing?  I mean it was my husband, my father, my grandfather, even my mother, who have all wronged me in some way.  But that is so ridiculous.  It sounds like an episode of trash-tv.  I am not one to blame everyone for my circumstance.  It’s no one else’s fault.  It’s mine.  I made these choices.  Maybe that means I should apologize to myself?  Okay, let’s try…

I am sorry.  I’m sorry that when I was growing up I stole candy, bathing suits and money out of my father’s draw.  I knew it was wrong but at the time the candy tasted good, the bathing suits looked great and the money came in handy.  Today, I am sorry for my actions.

I am sorry.  I’m sorry that I was not always nice to the next kid.  Sometimes I went along with the crowd.  Not always…but I did.  I knew it was not nice to call you names or pull your hair but at the time I thought I was so tough and cool.  What goes around does come around.  Today, I am sorry for my actions.

I am sorry.  I’m sorry that I was a lying little teenager.  Lying got me into trouble and lying got me out of trouble.  As I got older, I knew this was wrong and armed myself with the truth.  I decided to tell the truth no matter the consequences or if it hurt someone’s feelings.  I am still walking a fine line between the two.  I do recognize that sometimes both have been the wrong choice at times.  Today, I am sorry for my actions.

I am sorry.  I’m sorry that I left the greatest love of my life for a man who treated me like garbage.  I’m sorry I did not have the courage to stand up to him and walk away before it was too late.  I’m sorry that when I left…I came back.  I’m sorry that someone who claims to love you has beaten you, called you names and treated you like you are beneath him for so long.  Today, I am sorry for my actions.

A brief list of some of the things that I have done wrong in my life.  That I am most definitely regretful of.  But even if I were to say to myself…I accept your apology.  In other words…I forgive me.  Do I really?  When it comes down to it, I really have worked through the first three things on that list.  I am good to go as far as that stuff is concerned.  Basically this entire theory is moot.  I have no idea if I should forgive my husband or myself.  I’m not sure either of our actions deserve forgiveness.  If that’s the only thing holding up the progression of this situation, I’m afraid I may be screwed.  Now what?