Believing I Was Alone

I never told anyone about calling 911 because I was ashamed of my actions. Feeling like a foolish child, I watched the police walk out my door and I was left alone with him, unprotected. I wished I had cuts and bruises to show them that night. In my hallway I listened as they said “it was nothing, just a domestic dispute” in the police radio. The words left me with such shame and I never felt more alone as I faced an intensely angry husband who made me promise to never take such action again.

am I done with therapy for PTSD yet?

Once again, I walked into my therapist’s office feeling like perhaps it is time to be done with therapy! I told her I am in such a better place now, calm and peaceful, occasionally struggling, but not as frequent. She looked happy that I am feeling this way, but asked me to explain what it looks like…being calm now versus my life before.

I talked about the self-awareness I now have, thanks to all of this hard work. I actually like myself now, for the first time in my adult life – all of the weird, unique aspects about me, the things that make me different. For 20+ years I hated being different in the slightest way, always feeling like an outsider regardless of how many friendships I made.

But now, I see…it’s not that I don’t fit in anywhere…I actually fit in everywhere! Such a variety of friendships I have, and groups where I belong. I am beginning to love everything unique about me, even the “weird things”. All these years I felt inadequate, unworthy, but that is fading and I see my intelligence and talents. I am finding the confidence and self-worth I had as a child. As I continued I felt the nervousness rise, knowing there is still much pain beneath the surface I do not want to touch. I knew she would lead me to it.

she asked what changed?

She asked what made me lose my self-worth after childhood and I guessed it was from the abusive marriage…having my husband point out all that was wrong with me on a daily basis…how stupid I am…too fat and out of shape…how I choose ugly clothes and don’t know how to style my hair or use makeup right…how I have no common sense, no ability to speak intelligently. I was the butt of his jokes.

I blurted out, “I cannot stand up to him or even say anything at all back to him! It wears me down to the point I hate myself.” The tears started…the emotion welled up fiercely in my chest, the feelings of being a failure, and all of my confidence about being done with therapy flew out the window.

Once again, my words switched to the present tense, despite being divorced for 14 years.

can you say no?

She asked me to stand and face her, to close my eyes and breathe slowly, going through grounding exercises until I was calm again. After a few minutes she had me lift my hands and place them in front of me to a distance that felt safe, then open my eyes. She put her hands out the same way, almost touching mine. It felt awkward, yet I knew I was safe in my space. She asked me to maintain eye contact and keep breathing slowly, but repeat the word “no!”

Ugh!!! It felt so awkward at first, and the hardest part was maintaining eye contact. It was so simple, but because I was forcing eye contact, I got extremely dizzy. I was positive I would pass out, put kept pushing through. The word was uncomfortable and I couldn’t repeat it quickly. I was slow and shaky, almost whispering. The awkwardness faded and the tears began streaming hard. She repeatedly reminded me to breathe. Clear memories flashed into my head, one after another, so many of the memories in which I wished I had said “no!”. Terribly light-headed with fear, I had to sit.

I cried so hard I was gasping for breath as I began telling her about the various memories, but I could not put the details together right. I still only had pieces that didn’t fit, were out of order, and even conflicted with each other. But I tried. I spoke the pieces anyway.

more pieces of memories

I talked about a miscommunication we had and my husband got very loud and aggressive with me on our front porch. I remember him holding our 8 year-old daughter’s hand as he glared in my face repeating to her with such anger, “Do you see? Do you see now how stupid  your mother is?” She is crying, afraid, and I want to grab her and protect her but he will not allow it. I felt the neighbors may be watching in the distance and I am so ashamed. All of the mean things he says about me, I somewhat believe, but mostly am afraid of him and what is next.

Then I told her about other memories, far worse ones. Other times that I wanted to say “no” or “don’t treat me like this”! Somehow in my mind, I was convinced that I had never tried to stand up to him. But the more I talk, I realize that isn’t true at all!

Everything in my head is confused and foggy, but I suddenly know I DID TRY…I tried repeatedly to stand up for myself. How do I forget that? It did not matter. He would not listen, as if I had said nothing at all, so I stopped saying no.

When your voice has no effect, you stop using it

Another memory…a horrible fight in our apartment. I was 21 and our baby was 6 months-old. As I described it, I could see it unfold as if I was floating above the opposite wall of where I actually stood in the room. He kept shoving me, pushing me into the wall, yelling at me with his face 2 inches from mine. The more I fought back the more agressive he became. I tried to leave the apartment but he put the chain on the door and held me back. He held me against the wall and pinned my arms down while he yelled at me.

I threatened to call the police and he laughed at me

The next time he shoved me I grabbed the phone and called 911. Two policemen arrived and somehow he became calm and charming and logical! How the hell did he do that!? He spoke respectfully to them and acted like he was trying to calm me down. Meanwhile, I was a freaking mess trying to make my words coherent while I cried. I told the police what happened as best I could, but was scared with him watching my every move. They asked if I had any cuts or bruises. Embarrassed, I shook my head. They walked away from me, told my husband the next time we fight he should allow me to go for a walk and calm down, and then they left.

the lesson I learned: I am alone in this world and unprotected

Sitting on her sofa, I cried and cried, feeling all of what I never allowed myself to feel before…everything I felt as I watched the police walk out the door leaving me alone with him, unprotected and vulnerable. I remember badly wishing for cuts and bruises that night. I heard them in my hallway radio in that “it was nothing, just a domestic dispute.” The words left me ashamed and feeling like a child. And I was left alone with an intensely angry husband to punish me and make me promise to never take such action again.

my shitty first draft

I was not aware at the time, but in that moment I created a story in my head. My shitty first draft, as Brene Brown would say. My fear-based story. I came to a realization that if the police see my situation as no big deal, so would anyone else I reached out to for help. I was alone, so very alone. If my husband can perform so perfectly to portray his innocence, I had no hope of anyone believing me. In that moment, I knew I was alone in this awful marriage and for the next 9 years I did not seek help from anyone as the abuse got worse and my mental stability deteriorated.

The other part of the story I created, was that it is dangerous to get get angry. The angrier I got, the more aggressive and violent he became. Having my arms held down while trying to defend myself was more than my mind could handle. I have rarely felt anger since that day.

owning the story

After 24 years of minimizing this and many other stories, it is my turn to own them and write my endings. The real story is that I was extremely angry that night and I had a right to be angry. My anger got to go nowhere because I was shut down. I was shut down physically by his hands, his body, his strength; shut down emotionally with his words; shut down mentally when I was offered no protection. My brain filled in the gaps to keep me surviving. I am grateful to my brain for that, for keeping me surviving for the next 24 years until I was in a place safe enough to deal with this; safe enough to heal. But now it’s time for my prefrontal cortex to take over this damn story! To do that I have to feel all I believed was not worth feeling.

eye contact is a boundary

“We can’t have a true yes unless we are able to have a firm no” she told me. 

This is why I cannot make eye contact whenever I talk about my past, no matter how hard I try. Forcing eye contact nearly made me pass out when we stood facing each other. I’ve struggled with it for years without understanding why.

Until I have a “firm no”, until I have boundaries, I can never fully engage with my life. I cannot feel the joy, the support, the love available to me, until I find my boundaries and feel safe. A true yes will not be mine until I have a firm no.

we cannot un-lose what was lost…but we can regain strength, power, and dignity