by Band Back Together | Oct 14, 2015 | Asperger's Syndrome, Child Abuse, Child Sexual Abuse, Childhood Bullying, Divorce, Domestic Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Suicide |
I did it again.
While I didn’t yell at my wife, or make any physical advances, No, what I did was worse.
I made her cry and hide in a corner. My own wife.
And it keeps happening; it’s becoming more frequent.
I grew up in an abusive household in the United Kingdom. My mother, sister, and I lived under my father’s proverbial gun. My mother and sister were sexually assaulted by him.
His control ruled my life and dictated that anything I ever did wasn’t good enough. When I’d get straight A’s, I was told they should have been A+’s. Eventually, I rebelled a little which was for my own good.
We’d gone out for a walk in the forest and I needed a rest, so I hung back and sat down to catch my breath. He came thundering down, and with no no one else around, he knocked me down, and started to kick the living daylights out of me. I lost all control. I began to bleed from my head. Then, he picked me up and dragged me in front of a crowd of people.
Not a single person tried to stop him, not a single word of dissent.
From that point on, I decided I should be alone. Beside my mother, no one cared about me, and eventually she began to abuse me as well. It was a vicious cycle that eventually broke down when he divorced her and moved away with his mistress.
But after the incident in the forest, I just wanted to be alone, not exist at all. It was compounded by the fact that I was bullied every day at school at school as well. When I went to counselors or my mother, I was usually told, “you’re just being stupid,” and was written off.
Eventually I went to University, during which time I almost managed suicide with an overdose of painkillers. The next morning, I went to the doctor and was sent straight to the ER. It was no comfort when I was told that the amount I’d taken was enough to kill a “normal” person. Around this time, I’d disowned my father and there were threats that he and some of his brothers planned to descend upon the University to “correct” me.
I saw killing myself as the only option.
My now-wife has stood by me no matter what. We met playing games on the Internet, and eventually I moved to the USA to marry her. We’ve been married over a year, I’m doing the job I always wanted, and we’re expecting our first child.
She suffers from Asperger’s Syndrome and sometimes, as is the case with autism spectrum disorders, doesn’t know how to act or respond appropriately. It feels like I have to organize our daily lives because she can’t or won’t.
I love her to pieces and wouldn’t give her up for the world. Recently, however, I’ve started to make snide comments to her or vent at her about stuff over which she has no control.
For example, we’d just had our apartment building set on fire by some careless fuckwits, and while the apartment wasn’t damaged, it did smell like smoke. The Red Cross had us stay in a hotel, and when we returned home, we both set about organizing our apartment.
When I ask her what else we needed to do, she says that we need to grab CDs from the car so she can rip them onto her laptop. I’m thinking,
“What the fuck? We need to inspect the apartment in case we need to make any claims, and you want me to go downstairs and grab CDs? Seriously?”
Then I say it aloud. I berate her. I berate her because I now have to be her eyes and ears. That I have to organize her day for her. How much it all stresses me out.
And then it hits me like a ton of bricks.
The one thing I swore I’d never do – abuse my own wife or kids like I was abused – I’m doing.
And now, I feel like scum for breaking such an important promise to myself and undermining, hurting her.
There’s a big part of me that feels I should leave quietly and not return so I don’t hurt her anymore. Maybe go somewhere, be alone, and die in a corner quietly. Because that’s what I deserve. And she deserves so much better than me, a broken person who doesn’t know whether he’s coming or going.
I just don’t know anymore. I don’t know whether I should fight it, give up trying to change my fate, or remove myself from the equation permanently.
by Band Back Together | Sep 28, 2015 | Coping With Domestic Abuse, Divorce, Domestic Abuse |
I got married when I was 25. I was heavily involved in a church and was considering ministry. I made a decision to follow my hormones instead of the ministry. I was dating a lady who I knew was not the one. Then I found who I thought was the one. She was dating a good friend. He moved out of the area, and I was right there behind him. Note that this was 1982, not just a few years ago.
We were planning to get married in October of 1983. My family was there, and her family came in also. The wedding day came and her father told me, “Son if I were you, I would not go through with this.” I said, “Now now, my family is in town, you guys are here, we are doing this.”
Two days later I had a can of soup thrown at me.
The marriage did not improve much from there.
After a couple years of misery, I thought, “How about having a kid!” Wow, I must have fallen off the train or something. We had a child in 1986. I spent more time in a hotel than at home.
Divorce came in 1991, and the lies started in the courts. “He makes X dollars.” I proved I didn’t, but they did not believe me. They said I forged my paycheck and tax documents. I went along with it because I wanted my child to have a good life. That was nice.
She kept up and would not let me into his life at all. The courts sided with her. She tried to get me fired! Why? I was paying her exorbitant child support!
That is Part One of my crazy story!
by Band Back Together | Sep 11, 2015 | Abuse, Anger, Coping With Domestic Abuse, Domestic Abuse, Fear, Intimate Partner Rape, Jealousy, Self-Esteem, Trust, Violence |
So, I’ve just realized that I’ve been in an emotional, physical, and verbally abusive relationship for five years. I am in the process of healing.
You would think that healing comes easily. It doesn’t. Every day seems like a struggle. Sometimes I hate myself for the person that I have become: fragile, weak, heartbroken, depressed. I thought that I loved this man. He told me that he loved me, and I told him that I loved him, but everything changed so fast. The gentle, sweet talking man that I thought I knew turned out to be an angry, jealous, bitter abuser. I can’t help but think about the chances that I had to walk away.
I met him on a Christian blog. I discovered my spiritual side wanted to learn more about the Christian faith. He sent me a friend request, and I accepted it. I invited this man into my life because I thought that he was a fellow Christian with good intentions. Being 19 at the time, with many problems in my personal life, I realize that I was also naive. I did not think about the repercussions of pouring out my heart to a complete stranger.
Not long after we had met, he started to tell me that he loved me. Soon after, I gave him my phone number. I thought that I could trust him, and I gave him my address. Over time, he would send me gifts: candy, clothes, money, and other things. He told me that I was the only one, different from the other girls that he met. He made me feel loved, in his eyes I was perfect.
The more we got to know each other, the more serious we got. Since the relationship was long distance, we kept in touch with each as much as possible, maybe a little bit too much. We would literally stay on the phone with each other for hours. What I thought was a sign of care was nothing more than his way of control. If I did not return his phone calls, he would text me constantly. When ever we got into an argument, and I would ignore him, he would threaten to commit suicide.
Months into the relationship, I noticed that things were beginning to take a turn for the worse, but since I was going through a tough time in my life, and I needed someone to turn to, I chose to ignore the signs. A began to notice his jealousy, especially after I would tell him about my male friends. He punished for my honesty when I was only trying to establish trust. He started degrading me and calling me names. I thought that this was normal and forgave him after. He then started to send me pictures of himself, some sexual in nature. I was uncomfortable with this, but I did not tell him. I thought that sex would bring us closer since we were so far apart.
After seven months of communicating by phone, email, and text, I took a bus to meet him in Mississippi. I was scared, but felt that this would show how much I really wanted this relationship to turn out. When I saw him for the first time, I felt numb. I didn’t feel attracted to him, but did my best to make him feel loved. When I got to his house, I was nervous. His mom didn’t know I was there and I didn’t know anyone. We ended up having sex that first night. I didn’t enjoy it, but I felt like this would make everything official.
After two weeks, I returned home. I moved out of my parents house and stayed with my grandparents. We continued to stay in touch and we told each other how we wish that we could be together. One day, after an argument with his mother, he decided that he wanted to leave home. He wanted to come live with me even after I told him that I was not ready. He left anyway. I was scared at the fact that this man would come to my home even after I said no. I was worried about what my family would think.
When he got to South Carolina, I met him at the hotel to help him settle. I began to feel responsible for his homelessness and I stayed at the hotel with him. When he ran out of money, he asked if he could stay with me. As worried as I was, I let him.
Since that day, my life has never been the same. I live with a predator. He’s a completely different man from the man that I thought I knew. He accuses me of sleeping around. He’s looked through my phones, and even broken them. He destroys things that have value to me.
I’ve been sexually abused by this man. He touches me inappropriately without my permission. I’ve been physically abused: punched, kicked, slapped, bruised. I’ve called the police on him three times. He’s been arrested once.
I became pregnant by this man. The abuse did not stop after I got pregnant. After my baby was born, he started to isolate himself from me even more.
I wanted to share this story because I wanted to let any one who has been abused know that you can heal. I had to get on my knees and pray for healing. I accepted Jesus Christ into my life so that I could be saved. I know that Jesus loves me, and you, no matter what anyone else says. When we know that we are loved, we begin to love ourselves: then we can heal.
by Band Back Together | Aug 5, 2015 | Abandonment, Abuse, Bullying, Depression, Domestic Abuse, Fear, Intimate Partner Rape, Psychological Manipulation, Rape/Sexual Assault, Trust, Unemployment |
I am a victim of domestic violence and almost every form of intimate partner abuse that you can name.
Through my therapy, I have heard of “White Knight Syndrome.” This is when a person has a naturally good nature and wants to protect people in danger and people in need. My ex knew that I was an instinctively good person and would help those that I could, the elderly lady that fell off a bus, the disabled man that asked for help to get up the stairs, someone being attacked on the street, a victim of domestic violence, a victim of rape.
She knew, and she took advantage of it. She claimed she was raped one night. She claimed that someone was bullying her because she was a woman. She said that she was unfairly sacked because her boss was racist. She would say anything she could to try and get a reaction out of me, anything to prove to herself that she had control over me by having me fix whatever problem she created.
If I didn’t beat up the rapist, she would say I was controlling.
If I didn’t side with her against her bullying friend, she would say I wasn’t letting her go out.
If I didn’t have a go at her boss for being racist, I was called the racist.
None of this added up to me. Her friends would call me and say I should let her go out, even though she was out with them every week. My friends started threatening to beat me up for something I apparantly did to her whilst I was at work. People started threatening me and attacking me all the time. When I’d ask her if she knew what was happening, she’d deny it.
This is where I knew she was lying.
Not once, not ever, in all times I was beaten did I get a hug, or a kiss, or any empathy, sympathy, or pity from her. When I walked in with my leg nearly broken, she shrugged it off. I went to the hospital alone. When I was threatened, she would just turn the other way and go back to watching something on TV. I gave up telling her. I would either be ignored, or worse, she would deliberately walk away and call me weak for being upset, depressed, down, low.
I was more scared of telling her that I was battered with a pole through fear that this would give her satisfaction. I was terrified of telling her that someone nearly broke my leg. Instead, I told her I fell over. I kept hiding the injuries caused by what she was doing to me. I was hiding the number of times she’d had me battered for something as simple as asking her to sweep up whilst I cooked and cleaned the dishes.
Now when someone tells me that they have been raped, I worry that they might be lying, and I’m going to be manipulated again. I worry I will find myself stuck in a place where I know my heart tells me to protect this person, but my mind is telling me to keep myself safe.
For a very long time, I was running from pillar to post trying to protect the person that I loved, without destroying my own life. I eventually started letting the police deal with it.
That’s when the truth came out.
She wasn’t raped. She arranged to meet up with him because I wasn’t dominant enough.
She wasn’t wrongfully sacked by a racist boss. She had her final disciplinary action because she refused to do her job countless times, and she damaged clients’ property.
She wasn’t being bullied. She wanted to hide the fact that she had stolen money.
The list goes on and on.
Anyone can be in danger of false accusations. The people like me who have suffered forced penetration (that’s what they call it when a man is drugged and raped by a woman) don’t come forward until it’s too late. None of us have the courage to face disbelief from others for what we have suffered.
To all the women out there who are victims of rape, I am sorry for you all.
To all the men who are victims of domestic violence, I am sorry for you all.
I know how hard it is to fear disbelief because I have faced disbelief.
I have had to relive my abuse over and over again with every time I tell someone what happened. Over and over again, I feel scared that the person I’m telling is going to point at me, laugh at me. I’m scared that they will disbelieve me even, when shown the evidence, even when hearing the truth from my abuser, even after becoming a victim of it themselves.
by Band Back Together | Jun 10, 2015 | Anxiety Disorders, Date/Acquaintance Rape, Domestic Abuse, Fear, Healing From A Rape or Sexual Asault, How To Cope With Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Psychological Manipulation, Rape/Sexual Assault, Stalking |
I am sharing my story in hopes that if someone has dealt with something similar they would be able to help me put my life back together. I’m sorry, it’s a novel to read.
My freshman year of college, I immediately pledged a sorority. Where I go to school, you actually have to pledge, you aren’t automatically admitted. One of the guys in a fraternity took interest in me and helped me out during pledging. Once pledging was over, he began to take interest in me that went past friendship.
About two weeks into the relationship, I knew that I needed to get out, but didn’t know how. He would say things to me such as, “I’m like a boy in a toy store and you’re taking away all my toys” when I did not want to engage in sexual things. Although in my head I knew I needed out, he was charming and manipulative and got me to stay in the relationship.
A month into the relationship is when the actual date rape started. It occurred at a formal with his fraternity out of state. I was under 21, so I could not go out to the bars with his friends, therefore, no one could hear me fighting back or yelling for help. This is how I lost my virginity.
This happened four other times over a three month period. He would manipulate his way back into my life. The last time it happened, he not only raped me but also became physically violent. I then got the courage to end the relationship, but he wasn’t done.
He began stalking me. Everyday. Everywhere I went …there he was. He walked behind me to class and was there when I would get out. He would have my RA leave things in my dorm room for me, and have my friends leave things in my bags and car. After multiple times of asking for him to leave me alone, he told me I was going to receive a text one night from a friend of his. This friend ended up to be the underboss of the chicago mob, or at least that is what I was told. He, his wife, and two daughters texted me everyday, all the time. They would threaten me and those I love. I was told I was being followed by those who worked for him. I was told I constantly had a hit man who would kill me if I ever tried to talk to the cops or tell anyone. I was always being watched.
During this period of time, he used this harassment and coercion to continue to rape me. For five months, this happened every day. They would text me, and threaten me, and he would use it to sexually abuse me. One night while he was asleep, I went through his phone because I was suspicious of all of these messages. I found the texting app he was using. It was all fake. He had created an entire family and hit man to stalk, harass, coerce, and rape me. He would actually borrow cars of his friends and follow me when I wasn’t with him. He had pet names for me. He would get other people to call me and act like these people. He would drop off letters and gifts even after my roommates told him we knew it was him and he needed to leave me alone or we would call the cops.
I recently turned him into the school. I had enough evidence, and he was expelled. YAY! But now I am left to deal with the horror of the past year. The stalking is okay for me to talk about. It’s so insane its almost laughable, but the fear was real. The adrenaline was flowing through my veins at every point during the day.
I still do not sleep at night, in order to protect myself. He broke into my house several times and stole some shirts. His roommate found them in his room and gave them back to me. I can’t eat during the day because I am so anxious. I can drink all day. I don’t have trouble keeping that down. I can eat at night, so I try and take vitamins and eat as much as possible at night time.
Even though I know it was fake (and he admitted to it and the rapes), I still constantly look over my shoulder to make sure I am not being watched or followed. I just feel very disassociated and don’t know how to deal with everything that happened. I am talking to a counselor, but its difficult because she hasn’t been through what I have.
I try to be as non-dramatic as possible, I just feel like I’m losing my brain – not like I’m having a mental breakdown, I just can’t concentrate on anything. When people talk to me, it takes a lot of focus and time for me to comprehend what they are saying. My short term memory is shot, and I am having flashbacks of things my brain has blocked until now. If any of you have advice or have been through this please let me know.
by Band Back Together | Oct 29, 2014 | Anger, Divorce, Domestic Abuse, Fear, Infidelity, Love, Violence |
He had asked me for a divorce, and I had fought for months to keep that from happening. I loved him, and I didn’t want our family to fall apart. I knew there was another woman, even though he wouldn’t admit it. He had never admitted to any of the others, why would he tell the truth this time?
I was annoyed by the irony of how he wanted to sign the divorce papers. He had dropped off the papers at the house for me to read them, but he didn’t want either of us to sign them until we were together. It was like he wanted it to be some kind of sick date! How romantic of him, right? Let’s get together as a couple and sign the divorce papers. Be still my heart!
I had been avoiding reading them until that day, trying to delay the inevitable. I knew there was nothing I could do. He’d made up his mind. But when I sat down to read them, I couldn’t believe my eyes! Here was my way out of this! The papers said that I was agreeing that our marriage was irreconcilable. The thing was, I didn’t belive our marriage WAS irreconcilable. I thought it could be saved. This was a legal document. I could not put my signature on a legal document that I didn’t agree with! So if I told him that I believed our marriage was worth saving, and I couldn’t sign the papers, maybe he would agree to work on it!
He came over that night, cheerful as could be, ready to have our special little night of writing off our marriage. I took a deep breath and told him I couldn’t sign the papers, explaining my reasons.
His rage was immediate. I saw his eyes go red and his lips swell up like they always did when he was ready to start punching things. I knew he’d had an anger management problem before we met. I’d read his homework from the court-appointed class that he’d had to take. I knew he’d lied on the homework, making things look less than they were. But he seemed to have learned from the class because he’d only ever thrown things before when he was mad at me. It had only happened a handful of times, but he would grab whatever was closest to him, throw it, and then stomp out of the house.
I had never worried about him actually hitting me.
But now he was on a rampage. His fury was terrifying. He punched his fist through a tv tray that was in the living room, completely destroying it. He took the little table that my dad had built when I was a child, that our daughter used to do puzzles and color, and smashed it into the floor. The corner of the little table was crushed, it dented the hardwood floor, then it bounced and hit the edge of our brand new tv. Thankfully, it didn’t hit the screen. But it left a permanent mark on the tv’s frame that I could never clean off, no matter how hard I scrubbed.
Then he crashed his way through the house and into our bedroom. I was even more terrified because our daughter and our foster daughter were asleep in the next room and I was so afraid he would wake them. I didn’t want them to see this side of him.
Once in our bedroom, my terror turned to horror as he grabbed the golf club he always kept next to the bed – for protection from intruders – and started swinging it around the room. He smashed the glass on the pictures hanging just a few feet away from my head. For the first time in our ten-year marriage, I was truly afraid that he might actually hit me. I stood there sobbing, pleading with him to calm down.
And that’s when I knew.
Our marriage could no longer be saved.
He had crossed a line that I was not willing to deal with.
Our marriage really was irreconcilable.
I told him I would sign the papers. As quickly as the rage had entered him, it was gone. We went into the kitchen where we sat down at the table and signed the papers. He hugged me, then left. I cleaned up the mess he had made, so the girls wouldn’t see it in the morning. Then I went to bed, where I cried myself to sleep.
It took me a few days to recover from the impact of seeing him so angry. I deeply mourned the end of the marriage we could have had.
But one day, about a week after signing the papers, I realized I was done. I no longer wanted anything to do with him. I was ready to move on and make a new life for myself.
