Love is patient. Love is kind. It does not chase you down, tear down a locked door, and choke you.
Today marks the anniversary date of my husband and I dating, seven years ago. And yet 5 years ago, September 11, 2008 he choked me while I lay in bed. I don’t have the energy to go through the whole story. I simply need a place to type and let go.
We are still married. We have two children together. You may wonder why I would stay with a man who tried to take my life but you see 25 years prior to this incident I was attacked. I told three adults right after it happened and yet no one did a damn thing about it. So, I’m not surprised that I would stay in an abusive relationship. You see as a child I was taught it was okay to hurt me. That I should do nothing about it and simply go on with life. And so I did and have done ever since.
I began therapy last Tuesday and I have spent the week crying and digging up old wounds, uncovering them and this time dealing with them.
My husband isn’t too happy about this. Yesterday he wanted to be supportive. However, when I ask him not to touch me or hug on me he becomes defensive and explains that he feels rejected.
Well too fucking bad.
I refuse to chose between my mental health and his comfort zone. He wants to stay in this house while I work through this then he’ll have to deal with what comes with it. I’ve asked him to leave but he, nicely, explains again that he wants to stay and work through this with me. Fine. Live here. But I’m working through this my way, the way that works for me and that happens to be with my own space and in my own time.
Thank you for letting me share this here and thank you for not judging me. I would never encourage a friend or family member to stay in an abusive relationship and so I know I must move on, for me.