It wasn't until my early 40's as I began working with abused women, that I soon realized I was also an abused woman having suffered years of abuse at the hands of the piece of shit (P.O.S.) occasionally referred to as my children's father or my first husband.
It is amazing how the human condition can suppress traumatic memories and one day, you will be sitting there and out pops the memory.
I was a classic case of an abused woman:
the abuser isolates the victim from friends and family - I had few friends around me at the time as P.O.S made them so uncomfortable, they stopped coming to visit; when I was heavily pregnant with my daughter, the P.O.S. refused to allow me to go to his brother's wedding and walked out on me and refused to return until I agreed not to go to his brother's wedding.
the abuser controls the finances leaving the victim penniless and unable to leave for financial reasons - I had to beg the P.O.S. to give me money so I could buy sanitary pads and tampons.
the abuser typically has an drug or alcohol addiction - the P.O.S. would walk out the door and I often would not see him for days on end. I did not know where he was or what he was doing but when he returned the stench of stale beer on his fucking breath was disgusting. He would often leave me and the two kids stranded in the house with no money and no transportation.
the abuser will do anything and everything to control the victim - after I had separated from the P.O.S. for the last time, he would drive around in his red car looking for me and the kids. When he located (as he knew my daily habits and patterns), he would follow me down the road in full view of the public and hurl insults at me. He would continue this verbal abuse until I went into a store or my home. After I moved to Toronto, a full 90 minutes away from him, I would jump out of my skin every time a red car went by.
the abuser seeks out victims who suffer low self-esteem - way back when, I was a mouse of a girl. I had low self-esteem and thought I deserved everything he gave me. I believed that I was the cause of all our problems. It was only when I started therapy did I begin to realize that I was not the problem, he was.
*******
My sweet friends,
I tell you these things for a reason and some of you know why. I am fine and please remember I am no longer that mouse of a woman. The next few days will be rough as you can imagine but I will get through it.
Hugs and many kisses,
Kelly
2008-03-29 @ 13:47