THE AFTERMATH. LEAVING AN ABUSER. 2017

I remember the first time He was mean.

Beyond hurt at the words he spoke and the names he called and the things he threw and the pounding fists on the bed as he screamed.... I was bewildered.

The experience seemed surreal. As if I was stepping to the side of it all and watching through a window. I was disconnected and present at the same time.

His face was red like a beet and seemingly swollen. It looked contorted- unlike his face at all. I was 5 feet away and could see the spittle splaying out of his mouth like tiny raindrops illuminated by the lamplight in our room- NO- not "our" room. My room. My house. He just lives here.

I was bewildered. I was confused.
This man is the man who loves me. Right? Dotes on me. Who would buy me anything I asked so I'm careful when I even show how much I admire a blouse or trinket at the store because he's so attentive to my whims he notices things like that.
He, who I've known for years and admired. Who is a leader, a life coach, a business man. He who is "the guy you call" whenever you OR anyone needs a friend. He who holds me in my bed, wraps his arms around me and says "I got you. You're safe."

He, who buys me flowers so often, the delivery man knows me by name. He, who rubs my back when I am weary, pulls off my boots each evening before bed. He, who gets groceries, does laundry, takes care of the yard and house and plays guitar on the bed while I paint.

I was bewildered.
The names he was screaming at me... were directed at me... names I see in horrible movies, that horrible men call women. Usually the "bad guy" the guy who "gets it in the end." Those guys... those guys aren't this guy... are they?
Are those guys the same guys that laugh and joke and sit by the lake at sunset eating Mexican take-out?
Do those guys listen kindly and wisely and lovingly to those women too?
Those guys aren't my guy... are they?

I was bewildered.
I left the room. He followed me. He pulled me down onto the couch in his arms like I was a child throwing a tantrum and although I squirmed and insisted he "LET me GO." he wouldn't.
He refused.
He was still angry.
He called me more names.
His spittle was on my face now.
I finally cried.
So confused, and frustrated I didn't know the protocol of how to handle this situation.
I surrendered.
Perhaps he broke me.

He finally stopped.
He apologized.

He spent an hour explaining to me why he was so angry.
How it was my fault for getting him to that point of loss of control.
How if I would have said things nicer he wouldn't have reacted the way he did.
He didn't mean to restrain me, he had just panicked because he thought I would leave him.
He would never do it again.
He explained to me he understood I was angry that I had caught him in a lie (again) but that he was FORCED to lie to me because of the way that I am.
He explained that not just HE thought so, but all of my friends thought I was silly too.
He shared that they all talk about how ridiculous I am.
He shared that he would never hurt me, he was the one protecting me from others who would.
He had only said those hurtful things because I had hurt him by saying I would leave.
He was sorry for the things he said. He didn't really mean them.
I had just pushed him to that.

So we resolved that I would be better about how I say things, that I would try not to be so judgmental so he didn't have to lie anymore. And... we BOTH apologized.

This was only 3 months into our relationship. 4 more times this cycle would play out.
Every time becoming more volatile. Until it became physically violent. Until the first time I refused to be pinned down again.

The names and words he called me, that he said that first night and every night that I upset him- still echo through my head.
I hear them when I speak to audiences.
I hear them when new men ask me on dates.
I hear them when I bump into an old romantic partner.
I hear them when I look in the mirror after a shower.
I hear them when I see my friends and there's a pause in the conversation.
I hear them as memories when the man I NOW love looks at me, holds me, speaks to me kindly... I wonder will HE be like Him?
Will "I" ruin this too?

I remember.

Maybe he does too. Maybe.
His friend told me he's changed.
Maybe.
In the past month he's "happened" to be outside my work when I've left shift. Or "happened" to drive by my house, 4 times that I've seen him.
Maybe it's all explainable, maybe it's all just coincidence.

I walked out to my car in the parking lot behind my work after closing. He was parked next to my vehicle. Not moving. Just watching. My hands shook as I arranged my keys in my hand, the tines of the metal sticking out like barbs past my knuckles the way I have been taught to for self defense. I waited until the last moment, just steps from the door, before clicking the "unlock" button on my fob- feeling his eyes like laser targets on my back. My ears straining to hear in case his car door opened to approach me. I was alone. The lot behind the buildings void of any other humans. 

Quickly climbing into my car I locked the door as soon as it had closed. Not giving him the satisfaction of looking toward him, or to see how afraid I was. Confused why he was there- why he was watching me. 

I don't care to find out.
I care to move forward.

To share my story regardless of his threats, if I do.
It's my story.
It's my voice.
It's my way of learning.
To focus on my work.
To stand for myself and the girl inside who deserves to be heard that this wasn't okay.

To share, because I didn't know better... and perhaps if I share, then other's may know better too.
Perhaps as we all learn, we can change this world.