As we were moving boxes out of the house, she lamented over the loss of the life she had been building with him. “We were supposed to go skiing in Utah; we were supposed to go to Cabo for his fiftieth birthday. We had just started restoring this old camper and were going to go on so many adventures.” she said sadly. “If he would just stop drinking, and love me the way that I need him to, I could overlook this.” she said, pointing to the purple, yellow and green bruises that had finally started to heal around her eye socket.

“You can’t overlook it anymore, honey.” I told her, my heart sinking into my gut. I had been here with her before. I’d gotten plenty of texts and phone calls about the abuse over the years, always ending with her promising to leave him, saying she was done with his shit. But then, just when she was at the end of her rope, she would be lured back in, and things would go back to ‘normal’.

When he finally wrecked his car coming home from the bar one night and almost killed himself, she admitted that she was relieved. He had multiple broken bones, and it was a miracle he had survived. However, he never got charged with a DUI since they didn’t take his BAC soon enough. He never did have to go to jail or be held accountable for his actions. Still, she was sure that he had learned his lesson and would never drink again. She faithfully nursed him back to health, waited on him hand and foot like a dutiful loving wife, and for a while, things were wonderful. But of course it didn’t last long.

Husband #1: The Irish Ogre

Seeing her made me think back to my own past of abuse. My first husband was the worst. He slapped me, strangled me, and raped me. But because it didn’t happen all at once, with each instance I overlooked it. I had a number of reasons that I used to justify it. He apologized. He said he was sorry and that it wouldn’t happen again. We had to ‘stay together for the kids’. But those reasons weren’t the real reason why I stayed. If I’m being honest, the real reason was because I didn’t have the guts to be alone. I didn’t believe I could do it on my own. I thought I needed him. I was scared- more scared of being alone than of him hurting me.

That changed when I caught him cheating on me. Somehow, even though he had tried to kill me already, that hadn’t been enough for me to leave. But as soon as I had realized the truth- that he’d been cheating on me for months, maybe even the whole time we were together, it struck a nerve. I got mad- really mad. Here I was, raising his twins, going through post partum depression, feeling exhausted most of the time, and of course not feeling sexy or even remotely interested in sex, and he chose to cheat on me with someone else.

I was furious. When I confronted him, he tried to lie and deny it, but I had the evidence. There was no getting out of it. Not only did I find numerous emails, love letters, and pictures, but I had answered her call when she stupidly rang the house phone. When I called him out on it, he picked me up, threw me into the neighbor’s fence, and I landed face up on my back among broken boards and nails. That was the day I realized that things weren’t going to change; they were only going to get worse. If I didn’t leave him, he really would kill me, and at the very least keep cheating on me. So, at twenty one years old, I filed for divorce…on our one year wedding anniversary.

Husband #2: The Mexican Gangster

My second attempt at love and marriage wasn’t much better. He regularly threatened to kill himself if I left him. He was always suspicious. If I went out, he wanted to know where I was going, who I was with, and would often call and text multiple times to find out when I’d be home. When I caught him cheating on me, I revenge cheated on him. Of course, it only perpetuated the cycle of mistrust. He was also violent at times, but when I fought back, I felt guilty, and since I had been a part of it, I overlooked it. I knew it was dysfunctional, but dysfunction might as well have been my middle name. It was all I’d ever known. I loved him, and I foolishly thought my love could fix it. If I just loved him enough, I was sure he’d change.

When he intentionally hurt me one day during sex, and I told a friend about it, she looked at me with pity in her eyes and said “You’re an abused woman.” I scoffed at her. I wasn’t an abused woman, I thought. How could I be? He had never actually hit me. Yes, he had hurt me a few times, but we’d both been drinking. And hadn’t I told him that I liked rough sex? I had asked for it, sort of, hadn’t I? (At the time, I still didn’t understand consent, negotiation, and abuse with regards to BDSM.) After seeing a therapist, I slowly began to realize and identify the types of abuse that I’d been dealing with for years. But, because it didn’t look like the “typical” abuse that you see on TV, I hadn’t recognized it for what it was.

I ended up divorcing him and stayed single for a while- just long enough to do a ton of partying and repress all the horrible memories. I went crazy; I called it the “Summer of Single”. A girlfriend and I had a contest to see who could bag the most men. The one night stands were off the charts. The hangovers were right up there too. Finally, I felt like I’d gotten it out of my system and I found a “nice” guy. He was fun- he had a great family and friends group. He was financially stable, owned a house, and worked a steady job. That was enough for me to say yes when he asked me to marry him.

Husband #3: The Mormon Cowboy

He didn’t physically or mentally abuse me, so I thought I had it made. We didn’t really argue or fight. But there was a huge hole in the intimacy department. He stopped having sex with me. If I broached the subject or tried to make a move, he would downright reject me. I couldn’t understand it. The neglect felt awful, and I questioned myself. What was I doing wrong? Was I not desirable? Was there something wrong with me? I had caught him in a few lies, and was sure he was cheating on me, or at the very least, addicted to porn and sex with online cam girls. Twenty thousand dollars had disappeared from our joint savings account, and he could never explain where it went. I was miserable, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave him. I shouldn’t have been unhappy, I told myself, because everything else seemed to be great. When he tried to impregnate me against my will, his last-ditch effort at keeping me with him, it was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

I was still afraid of being alone, and also felt humiliated that after three marriages, I still couldn’t seem to make one work. But I started seeing a counselor again, and slowly started to understand the pattern of abuse that kept me in a never-ending loop of despair.

Defining Abuse

Abuse is defined as:

1. use (something) to bad effect or for a bad purpose; misuse.
2. treat (a person or an animal) with cruelty or violence, especially regularly or repeatedly.

Abuse doesn’t always look like a black eye or a beer bottle thrown at your head. Abuse takes many forms, and often it leaves no physical trace. It can be mental or emotional abuse- manipulation, lying, gaslighting, name-calling, or making you feel unworthy or unhuman. It can look like being taken advantage of, cheated on, or being used. It can look like actual physical abuse, even if it was “accidental”, or if there are no marks left behind. It can look like threatening to hurt you, or themselves.

It can look like being neglected emotionally or physically. What many people don’t realize is that neglect is also a form of abuse. Constant neglect and rejection are just as detrimental to the psyche as physical abuse.

Abuse can be intentional (malicious), or unintentional (unconscious). Unintentional abuse is sometimes the hardest to identify, because we make excuses for their lack of awareness. “They didn’t mean to” is the most commonly used phrase by those who seek to protect their abusers.

Their actions are generally self serving. They think of themselves first, before thinking of others, if at all. All of this is justified and excusable in their minds. Sometimes, abusers don’t consciously know what they are doing. They are unaware, (by choice) of why they are acting a certain way, most often due to their own history of trauma and suppression. This lack of self awareness then allows them to behave in a way where they are not held accountable for their actions. Either way, conscious or not, it is always a person’s responsibility to build self awareness and work on healing their harmful patterns.

Why do people stay with their abusers?

This is the most commonly asked question by outsiders. It’s often blatantly obvious to those looking in from the outside when abuse is going on.

Conditioning

The person being abused is often psychologically conditioned to accept it. It typically happens over time. If the person has a history of being abused, they are already primed for it, and it won’t require much effort for the abuser to suck them in.

Fear

They usually have a debilitating fear of being alone. Sometimes they are afraid of being hurt or killed, or of the abuser hurting someone else they love, like a child. They might be afraid of the consequences if the truth comes out.

Manipulation

Abusers are charming and very good at manipulation. They manipulate the way others perceive them. They’re smooth talkers and can talk their way out of anything. They often use techniques like gaslighting (telling you that your experience wasn’t real), red herring (trying to deflect or shift to another subject), projection (telling you it was your fault), denial, and lying to get their way.

Blame

Victims of abuse often feel that they are at fault, not the abuser. They blame themselves. They think that they deserved it, caused it, or perpetuated it. And sometimes, they are right. That’s what makes it hard. Somewhere deep inside, they know that they are a part of the problem. But they become so addicted to the abuser, and the situation, that they can’t give them up.

Stockholm Syndrome

They usually acquire some level of Stockholm syndrome- the psychological phenomenon of falling in love with their abuser and the dysfunctional dynamic of highs and lows. And they likely have a debilitating fear of being alone. So, they become adepts at making excuses and overlooking red flags.

Shame

Victims of abuse often feel terrible shame for the situation they are in. They feel like they’ve let themselves or others down. They don’t want to admit that they are being abused, because it reinforces the belief that there is something wrong with them for allowing it to continue.

13 Years

Looking back and counting the years I spent in toxic, abusive relationships, the total is thirteen. Thirteen years of enduring emotional, mental, physical, and sexual abuse and neglect. And that doesn’t even count my childhood.

It’s safe to say that now, I have a pretty good understanding of what abuse looks like, in all of it’s forms. I’m no longer afraid to be on my own, or dependent upon a man to provide for me. I love myself, respect myself, and realize my worth and value. I’ve done tons of professional counseling, personal growth, and spiritual development. I would never be with an abuser or tolerate abuse ever again. Or at least, that’s what I told myself, lugging boxes of my friend’s household items out to my car.

She had Stockholm syndrome- clearly. She had fallen in love with her abuser years ago, and had never been able to get away. Even when he pushed her, hit her, screamed at her and hurt her, she overlooked it, every time, because the good times were outweighed by the bad on her warped scales. She made excuses and rationalized it all away. She loved him so much that she thought it would be able to fix him and the situation. At least I was done with that, I thought to myself. I had gotten away. I had learned my lesson.

But then I had to stop dead in my tracks. What about that last relationship with the married man? Almost every single person close to me had told me that he was abusing me in the worst way possible, which I vehemently denied. I believed in my heart of hearts that he didn’t intentionally hurt me- he wouldn’t dream of it. Of course, he had hurt me, on several occasions, but he didn’t mean to. He loved me, he had said, and I believed him.

However, the truth was that he had made promises and then reneged. He had lied from the very beginning and manipulated the situation. He had built me up and then let me down, over and over again. He knew that he was never going to be with me, but he’d constantly led me on. He was hot and cold, and just when I thought it was over, he’d show up again, just to use me and leave me again. I’d be mad for a while, but then I’d break down and beg him to come back to me. My heart was all in. I knew it was my fault for not leaving him alone, but I just couldn’t let him go.

That wasn’t abuse, was it? He had never hit me, at least not nonconsensually. I wasn’t afraid of him. In fact, despite it all, I had fallen madly in love with him. Even if he came back to me now, and said he wanted to be with me for good this time, I would take him back, wouldn’t I? I loved him so much, I could overlook it.

If you or someone you know is being abused, please seek professional help!

Here is a link with some signs to watch out for and resources for women and for men:

National Domestic Violence Hotline: Resources & support for anyone in the U.S. affected by intimate partner violence 24/7/365. 1-800-799-7233. Chat at http://thehotline.org | Text “START” to 88788.

If you’re looking for a holistic approach to healing, consider booking a PRISM session with me today. I’d love to support you on your healing journey. Click HERE to book.