Inordinate amount of energy

I’m pretty sure that most people tend to second guess, look back, sort and reflect, and process what they could have, would have, should have done differently.

The recent incident with giving my son a ride is one of those times for me.  I couldn’t think clearly about it yesterday at all.  I wrote a post yesterday that I’m going to put out there today (in addition to this), but want to keep them as separate topics.  One is really about PTSD, and this is about reflecting.  I hope you’ll bear with me, because in the end I hope I’m realizing what I should be focusing on.

I have no doubt at all that I’ve been codependent most of my life.  I’ve read Codependent No More a few times over the years, and I’m planning to reread it again soon.  But when I look back on what happened on Sunday,  I’m not sure at all that I’d do anything differently.  Even the not being codependent me that I’ve worked at becoming the last several years.  Before you shake your head and think I’m a lost cause, let me try to explain.  I want to try to express my thoughts on looking back to what my choices were.

I knew I was being asked at the last minute, but I wasn’t aware at all that another brother had been asked/told by my husband to give him a ride to work.  That I didn’t know about until I was already in the car and starting to back out of the driveway. 

That brings me down to one choice to reflect on:  get up and give my eighteen year old son a ride, or say no.  So this scenario is the weekend, a relaxed recovering from a virus me that had slept in and was just fiddling around at my computer.   The last minute request wasn’t received by me as a big deal.  I even suspected maybe in the busy stuff of what we were trying to do to get the house ready for painting, that scheduling a driver had been lost in the shuffle.  In the split second decision, I knew it could have been many things in play.

I wouldn’t have allowed an ongoing pattern of being available on a minute’s notice.  The way I would have dealt with this on my own would have been to have a conversation later on designating drivers, and needing timely notice if I’m needed to fill in for someone else.  Communication, guidelines, and setting a boundary.

Looking back, I don’t think it’s codependent to allow a pass of grace the first time for an eighteen year old.  It would be codependent to allow it to continue.   That’s when I would see myself as rescuing and enabling.  Setting a boundary and making the guidelines clear for scheduling rides is important, and holding the boundary to let each person be responsible for their part is important.  None of that had yet been addressed.

Since that communication and boundary had not yet happened, I think it would have been almost petty on my part to not just give him that pass of grace, then settle what future guidelines would look like after he got home from work.  Part of this whole mess is from only having one car since that other car went kaput.  Otherwise, I would just hand him keys, and see him after his shift.

I looked back and tried to imagine the scenario of my son asking me for a ride, and my telling him, “Son, we’ve never discussed this, but if you ask me for a ride at the last minute, I won’t help you.  Sorry, guess you’ll have to find another ride and be late for work.”  That would have been my alternative to the one choice I made that day.

This is the crazy part.  I’m spending all this inordinate amount of energy trying to sort this out.  Why?  Because my husband acted like a threatening bullying ahole.   If he hadn’t, I would have just said as I was dropping my son off, “Have a great day at work, but we’ll have to talk tonight about making sure this doesn’t happen again.  See you later!”

It could have been not even a bump in my day.  Barely a ripple.

What this really seems like to me is the typical pattern of looking at me, my behaviors, my choices, all in the same old way of what did I do?  what could I do? what should I do?

When dealing with passive aggressive abuse, all those questions are practically moot!  I can say I shouldn’t have married him, but that’s moot.  I can say I should have realized years ago, but that’s also moot.  And all this really avoids having the focus on where it should be… on his crazy abusive behavior. 

I’m going to reread and refresh and reevaluate and recheck myself for codependent thinking and behaviors, but really the truth about that day is that if my husband hadn’t gone off like a loose cannon, there would be no story!

What my gut tells me I need at this point is to focus on that.  Focus on the fact that his behavior was crazy, it was wrong, and it was all his to own.  It’s not mine.  This is where my energy needs to go.   To remind myself that I didn’t cause his behavior.   To remind myself that I have no control over his behavior.  To stop and think that not only would that day look different without his passive aggressive behavior, but life would look different.

How might life have looked?  I would have given him a ride, talked with my son when he got home, talked with whoever might be giving him rides, and moved on from there.
It’s entirely possible that I’d be approached at the last minute on some day after that, but then even though I’d feel bad for him, I’d be keeping integrity with myself and my conscience to not step up and give him a ride.  No shouting, no banging, no drama.  Just the regular stuff of life that we need to navigate to communicate and grow.

Posted in abusive husband, abusive marriage, Christian marriage, covert abuse, emotional abuse, passive aggressive, passive aggressive husband, personality disorder | Tagged , , , | 10 Comments

The aftermath and PTSD

(I wrote this post yesterday, but was still upset and decided to sleep on it.  I felt particularly vulnerable, but it’s a real snap from the day.)

What a mess I am.  I thought I was dealing with yesterday okay.  Then for some reason, I couldn’t get the bang bang bang of him smacking the car and windshield out of my head.  It was like I was there again, but then suddenly instead it was years ago.

I was in the car with him and he was hitting me, bang bang bang in the arm.  The shock and the pain all came back of that physical abuse from 26 years ago.  How could it be so long ago and still hurt me like that?  I remembered how surreal it felt as each punch seemed to knock me deeper into this strange territory, a place I didn’t belong, a place I never ever thought I’d be.  This is what happened to other women.  Women I pitied.  Women that lived in a strange, sad world that I was, just the moment before, so sure that I’d never be a part of.  The lumps that began to rise on my arm, and the unexpected physical pain that screamed and took over my attention.  I was someone else that I didn’t know at all.   A stranger to myself.

I started crying, eventually started to calm down, and walked back to check on something business related.  He could see that I’d been upset, and asked me if something was wrong, and just as unbidden as before, the tears and now anger erupted from deep inside of me like volcanic pain.  “I’m crying because I can’t get the sound of your shouting and banging on the car and windshield out of my head, and it made me remember you hitting me in the car!”

He made a sad crumpled face of dismay, but didn’t move.  Was it real?  I wanted to believe it, but I walked away to do whatever it is I do any and every day.

He came out shortly afterwards to update me on the original business matter, and then he started right in on wanting to change our internet provider (which I don’t really care about), and slipped in getting rid of our landline (which I do really care about and he knows it).  I said, “I’ve told you before that if I’ve said no to something, it doesn’t help for you to just keep repeating something like a steamroller trying to get me to give in.  No.  I said no.”

Then it hit me.  It hit me how vulnerable I was.  How he’d just seen me crying and that he knew why I was crying.

I said, “Wow.  You chose now of all times to try this.”

He started up with some indignant response, and I replied, “Just go away.  Leave me alone, and go away.”

My stomach has felt like painful tight knots since yesterday.  I need to stay focused.  It’s so hard when I want to curl up and sleep.

The ‘someday’ of him changing and it getting better, him keeping his promises for his support for me to go back to school, all turned into the dust of years past.  He wasn’t changing.  By the time I figured this out over the years, my physical health was wrecked, and I was financially enmeshed with him in great debt.  The changes, both for good and ill, were in me.

Now it’s a fight and a race to make the most important changes of all.  Health and independence.  I wish I felt more confidence about winning this race.  Every inch forward is a draining battle, and time doesn’t wait.  I need to learn to walk and run when I’m too tired to crawl.

Posted in abusive husband, abusive marriage, Christian marriage, covert abuse, passive aggressive, passive aggressive husband, PTSD | Tagged , , , , , , | 6 Comments

The drama we step in

Yesterday morning, IF my husband hadn’t caused that drama, I imagine what would have happened would have been a normal conversation later, the kind of communication that seeks to avoid it happening again.  My best guess is that his getting reactive and creating that unnecessary destructive drama was a backlash over the kitchen mess conversation the night before (see yesterday’s post).  I gave a legitimate complaint over his not taking responsibility to communicate and delegate to keep the house in order while I was sick, and now he was jumping into over-reactive action.

The stuff that really mattered (keeping the house from disintegrating into a big mess while I was sick) was ignored, while the little thing of my feeling well enough and giving our son a ride was pounced on and blown up from nothing into a big nasty passive aggressive poo pile.

In my view?  I broke the passive aggressive commandments of ‘Thou shall not hold me accountable’, and  ‘Thou shall not make me deal with something I don’t want to deal with‘, and he found a way to hurt me for it.  It’s so predictable that it’s rotten.

Since then, he’s apologized to the kids, to me, and acknowledged he was the cause of the unnecessary drama.

If I wasn’t clear about this in past posts, I do speak up.  I didn’t always let my kids or close friends etc. know in past years, but for the last several years I have been outspoken.  I’m sure he thinks I speak up too much, lol.  He once said to me, “You have zero tolerance!”  (I replied, “Thanks!”)   There is no more taking something in silence, or trying to cover over it.  If something happens, I’ll often respond to it in the here and now, depending on whether or not wisdom dictates  to wait.

My kids absolutely know (and have known for a long time) that I feel passive aggressive behavior is abusive.   I don’t hesitate anymore to call it what it is.  My kids also know that I haven’t been well, am trying to get well, and unless they’re up the river of denial, they know that if I get well and become financially independent, life as we know it will change.

Now, does he feel sorrow for what he did,  or just say he’s sorry?  Is he the thief that’s sorry he stole, or sorry he got caught?  His words took responsibility for what he did. His behavior was a mixed bag.  He helped with dinner.  He wanted to spend time together, and we watched a silly show back on his office computer.  At the end, he said he had to let the dog out and would be right back.  I sat and browsed on netflix until I was drowsy.  I went in our room and folded laundry.  I needed him to move the noisy parrot and cage out of our room so I could sleep (the cage is moved for the sun during the day), and finally went out to look for him.  Among other things, I discovered that at one point he just sat down and started watching part of a movie that the kids were watching.

He was full of excuses as to why he just rudely let me sit there waiting, but beneath my feelings of ‘why does he have to be this way’ was a healthy dose of acceptance ‘because that’s who he really is’.

I don’t think you can avoid the unnecessary drama that comes with a passive aggressive man.  You can just tighten your boundaries, and try not to step in it.   If you have kids that get hurt or blame you,  you’ll cry.  This is the bitter darkness that you don’t see coming until it doubles you over with grief and you have to crawl through it.

Posted in abusive husband, abusive marriage, covert abuse, denial, emotional abuse, passive aggressive, passive aggressive husband | Tagged , , , , , , | 8 Comments

Scapegoat for his drama

Something happened after I posted this morning.  I might be too upset to be coherent.  I hope you can follow my attempt to tell it.

I mentioned in a comment on a recent post that I’ve been sick.  He never seems to handle my being sick all that well.

I think this really started last night when I came out at bedtime to a huge mess in the kitchen, and that upset me.  When I say it upset me, I didn’t yell, swear, or name call.  I just said to my husband that it really upset me.  He started to get mad at any and all of our kids, and I reminded him that he was my husband, and in my opinion, although not responsible for taking care of all of it, he was responsible for communicating with everyone so it didn’t come to that mess.  He was initially angry about it, but he actually seemed to calm down and agree.

I’d started on the pile of dishes, and not too far into it,  he told me not to worry, and that he’d take care of it.  I turned my computer on, sat and calmed down for a few minutes, then asked him nicely to just come to bed, and we could take care of the rest in the morning.  Both of us had done some cleaning up already at that point, so it seemed reasonable.  He said he’d be there in a couple minutes.  But he wasn’t.  I was too tired to see why, but I suspected he was covertly upset with me.

Late this morning, my youngest son walked up to me and asked who was giving him a ride to work.  I looked at the clock on my computer and realized that someone needed to leave right away or he’d be late.  I’ve been not feeling well the last few days, so even though I look like the dickens, I was actually feeling better than I have.  I jumped up and told him to see if his dad was ready to leave, and if not, I’d be getting my shoes on just in case.  I put my shoes on, grabbed my purse and glasses, and since no one else was there and ready to leave, got in the car.  The car made a funny noise, but finally caught and started.  My husband came from somewhere outside and yelled, “What are you doing?”

Um.

I opened the door and said, “I’m giving him a ride to work, and we have to leave right now or he’ll be late,” closed the door and started to back out.

He just yelled again, “Why are you doing that?  ‘Brother __’ is supposed to do that!  Get out of that car!”  I just shook my head and kept slowly backing in the driveway (because I knew there was no time to switch plans at that point).   Then the door to the garage opened, the brother supposed to give him a ride was standing there in bare feet, and my husband yells again, “He’s supposed to drive him to work.  Stop and get out of the car!”  I knew that in the time it would take for that son to find shoes, get them on, and come outside, it would make my youngest son late.  I just shook my head and kept slowly backing out on the driveway.

Then my husband was shouting and repeatedly banging and banging on the car and the window with his hands!  He was yelling at me, and as we were driving away, I heard him yell at the son that was supposed to drive originally.  I kept going, but it shook me up.  Being in a car when he’s angry is a trigger for me.  I didn’t want it to hang over my son’s work day, so I changed the subject and got him to work about one minute before he was due to start.  Maybe ninety seconds.  Just enough time to punch in without being late.

After I dropped him off, I called my husband as I was driving home.  I told him that I wasn’t upset about giving youngest son a ride to work, but I was upset about his yelling and banging on the car, and was most upset about him yelling at our other son.  I said he needed to apologize to that son.  He responded by saying that I seemed upset when I was coming out of the house to drive him, and said that I’d told him to shut up.

Did I?  I remember yelling through the window for him to Stop that!  I remember that.  Maybe I was so upset I also said shut up?  Either way, I reminded him that at that point I was upset because he was shouting and banging on the car.  I also told him that I didn’t think the car should even be shut off, but that he should take it when I got back and drop it off at the mechanic’s.  The son that he’d yelled at went with him, but was cold and angry with me when they left.

The downside was that the son who was supposed to drive him and wasn’t ready, got the brunt of it.  I heard from my daughters how their dad yelled at him after I left.  That son is upset with me.  He was obviously very angry with me as we passed in the driveway when I came in and he left with his father.  I’m the scapegoat again.  That was what finally got me crying.

I came in the house and cried.  My daughters asked me what was wrong, even though they must have known because they filled in the missing blanks.  At some point, my oldest son walked in the room.

My oldest son just sat and listened, then had a good discussion with me about it.  He said that even though it’s wrong, it seemed like growing up, whenever their dad was upset and angry about something, it was connected to me somehow.  He said he was pretty sure that if he sat his brothers down and asked them about it, it would be their perspective, and that’s why they get upset with me.  He also said it wasn’t right, and that I didn’t do anything wrong this morning.

My husband  punishes me covertly by lashing out at the kids.  I’m the scapegoat for his anger, unfairly viewed as the reason their father gets upset with them.

He just called and in a meek, sweet tone, asked if I wanted anything from the grocery store.  I’m calmer, and I’m going to take what’s left of my day back.  The sun’s shining, so it’s a good day for a walk.  I’m going to think about what I need to do to nurture and heal myself.  Damn his unnecessary drama.

Posted in abusive husband, abusive marriage, Christian marriage, covert abuse, passive aggressive, passive aggressive husband | Tagged , , , , | 23 Comments

Everything has a price

When I met my husband, he was a senior in college and in ROTC.  Other than his uniforms, his clothes were few and almost worn out.  Both his parents were professionals in decent paying jobs, his only sister had already left home and had a good job,  and there was only one brother still living at home in school.  Yet I noticed that my husband was always broke (always hungry), wore only raggy clothes and underwear, all his socks had holes, and I wondered why his parents didn’t at least subsidize him with food packages.  This was just foreign to me.

Being the early me, I didn’t ask right away.  I was sensitive to embarrassing him or bringing up a difficult subject and causing him emotional pain.  Little did I know…

Shortly after the wedding, I broached the subject one day.  By this time, I’d seen his parents house, seen how well they lived and dressed, knew they often ate out, and that they’d taken a trip to Europe just a couple days after we got married.  These were people who could at least have bought their son underwear and socks and food while he was going to school.  I asked him why they never gave him more basic support, and why he’d never asked for it.

The young man who so often responded to questions with a strange confused look as though he hadn’t just heard me, instead looked at me directly and without hesitating replied, “Because it wasn’t worth paying the price.”

Paying the price?  I was confused.  “What do you mean?” I asked.

He said, “With my parents, everything comes with a price.  Everything is conditional.  I’d rather not get anything from them than to deal with that.”

I know I just stared at him in a confused way, and that seemed to irritate him.  “PJ, my parents don’t just ‘give’ me something without expecting something.”

Then he changed the subject, and I let it go, but I didn’t forget because it was bothersome.

After a few decades of being married to him, now I understand.  This is why whenever he’s behaving well, I’m never truly entirely relaxed.  When he’s doing something nice, I don’t think he’s plotting to use it against me.   But something inside of me never relaxes, because I’ve learned that at some future time when he’s upset, I’m going to be reminded of what he did ‘for me’.  It’s not truly just given.  It’s owed.

He might feel guilty about something, at least guilty in the surface way that things seem to bother him.  Guilt often looks like he’s irritable and distant.  He’ll still ‘do’ and when he’s done enough, the guilt turns more easily to self-pity and then resentment.

He might be in a good mood, and doing things that will actually be something I care about.  (This is more rare.)  I’m still aware that he might behave badly or neglect me sometime sooner than later, but this is when I’m most willing to shrug and pay the price later.  At least I’m getting something out of it temporarily.

With a passive aggressive busyaholic man, giving and ‘doing’ is also used to remind themselves, you, and the world what a great guy they are.  It means that they’re too busy to have a relationship.  It means a ready excuse if their misdeeds are noticed or brought up.  It means they’re misunderstood and unappreciated as a way of life.

Passive aggressive men pay a huge price.  The price is the loss of intimacy that would embrace them.  Respect that would benefit them.  Trust, affection, and relationship are lost as part of the price they pay to remain a creature in faux control that doesn’t need anyone.

Oh, and that trip to Europe that his parents took just a couple days after our wedding?  They’d just given us a rehearsal dinner.  They’d generously invited many more people to this than the short list that I’d given them.  Other than that, my husband and I took out a loan to pay entirely for our thrift wedding.  I carried three roses instead of a bouquet, the bridesmaids had their dresses sewn, we had the technical school make the cake and food, and rented space from a private school for the reception instead of a hotel.  I had a fixed budget and calculated every cost.  I thought it was so nice of his parents to pay for that big rehearsal dinner and invite so many of our family and friends.

Except guess what?  They didn’t pay for it.  Even that had a price for us, but I didn’t know it at the time.  Years later, one of my cousins called me and said that she couldn’t stand it anymore and finally needed to speak up about something.  She couldn’t believe I was so ungrateful to her mother (my aunt) and our other aunt for being so generous to me, and I’d never even thanked them.

Thanked my aunts?  For what?

The two aunts had each given $250. and handed the total of $500. (a lot of money back then!) to my future mother-in-law to give us to help defray the costs of our wedding.  We never saw it, and we were never told about it.  I was shocked and so embarrassed.  I called my aunts in turn, hardly knowing how to explain, but telling them the truth, and thanking them over a decade later for their generosity.  I should have raised h-e-double-l with his parents, but I didn’t at the time.  I think I didn’t want it to backlash on my husband and kids.

The stuff I wished I’d known and understood before I ever married.  Everything has a price with him and his family.

Posted in abusive husband, abusive marriage, covert abuse, emotional abuse, in-laws, passive aggressive, passive aggressive husband | Tagged , , , , , | 7 Comments

Understanding why women stay

My post today is my response to a blog post entitled Battered Women Syndrome and Why Women Stay in Abusive Relationships.

The worse case scenario is death, and those women at risk sense it when there’s no visible evidence of her danger to others. Other women fear the ongoing vindictive behaviors that will be relentless in trying to destroy her in other ways (finances, parenting, family, her workplace). Dependency is a huge issue when it’s happened over time, and removed avenues for the victim to re-establish independence. The victim typically has impaired health as her body was drained by processing the pain of her soul, and the breaking down of her spirit. The body doesn’t lie. Investment? Absolutely true. There is often no way to pretty the details, and there’s not a second chance for many.

Complicated and simple. Yes. Abuse is always about power and control, no matter which face it wears, or how it’s expressed. Physical violence uses overt bullying to produce fear. Emotional violence can be spoken softly, even with a kind of charming false sweetness or humor, but still leave someone diminished. It’s always about shifting the balance of power in favor of the abusive partner that needs to feel in control of the other.

When I first became acquainted with an online community of women that were survivors of relational abuse, I met women from every walk of life. The need to control and have power over someone was used against a dentist, the dean of a university, a veterinarian, a psychologist/therapist, a university professor, an attorney, an I.T. professional, a nurse, a teacher, and a SAHM on a rather equal opportunity basis. You would be hard pressed to find commonalities with the victims of abuse, other than being abused.

Although the women weren’t alike, their stories of how they were abused were similar, and the impact of it on them was also similar. You can read about those warning signs, one of which is that this kind of man typically intensely pursues in the beginning. The women can be love bombed without being aware that it’s not about him really seeing her and loving her, but quickly securing her. From that point, his attention she mistakes for love becomes slowly interchanged with his behaviors that diminish her, destabilize her, isolate her, and weaken her. Although there’s usually a recognizable cycle, the very unpredictable and inconsistent part of his behaviors work to keep her off kilter, isolated, and in a kind of fog.

Typically the men who abuse are well liked by their neighbors, acquaintances, and co-workers. This means their abused partner is constantly receiving messages about what a great guy he is, which works to create a kind of cognitive dissonance that slides her deeper into the fog. When the police officer who might be called is statistically likely to be abusive at home, when needed education and proper training is still lacking among law enforcement, you’ll continue to see horror stories of officers coming on the scene and either leaving the woman and child unprotected (which emboldens the abuser to behave even worse), or arresting the victim for any reactive behaviors when she was trying to defend herself. This is the current reality, and most women in these situations are aware of it, which means their abusers are also aware and operating with a kind of brazen impunity.

Women who find themselves wanting to leave an abusive relationship need understanding, validation, and practical support that will help provide a path to disentangle the enmeshment in the areas of finances, medical needs, and housing etc. For those women who are afraid and know in their gut that their partner would physically harm or even kill them, there needs to be more truly safe houses available, and much more stringent laws that provide restraining orders that are actually useful. The system as it is doesn’t protect women. When you read about women being murdered by a partner that they left, those women usually had tried to utilize every step offered by the current legal system.

If you wish to understand why an abused woman stays, then you have to be willing to see beyond what you wish to see in that great guy who’s abusing her.

Posted in abusive husband, abusive marriage, covert abuse, depression, emotional abuse, marriage counseling, passive aggressive, passive aggressive husband, personality disorder, PTSD | Tagged , , , , , | 30 Comments

The unmerry unbirthdays

The whole birthday, holiday, special day thing seems to bring similar stories from so many of us here. For many years when my now adult kids were little kids, I just stopped having birthdays.  (Yeah, I wish I could have stopped the aging for that bit of time as well!)  Basically my birthday would just come and go and not a word would be said at home.  That’s why my oldest son told me last year it was my fault that he didn’t remember my birthday, because we didn’t celebrate it at all when he was growing up. It’s true, my birthdays were unbirthdays in those years.

I think there were a few times that I tried observing some birthday formalities to make it seem normal to the kids .  I tried to fake normalcy by buying myself a present, cooking myself dinner, and baking or buying myself a cake.  That ended up just making me feel worse. Eventually, it became easier to disconnect from the pain of being ignored by just ignoring the day.  Years would come and go, and no birthdays for me. 

Most of the time that was bearable.  Hurtful, but bearable. 

There were those years here and there when he would run out on an emergency errand ‘the day of’ Mother’s day or my birthday.  That was almost worse.  He’d find the ugliest wilting flowers in the grocery market, a cheesy strange card, and maybe something that looked like it came from the dollar store for a gift.  This was usually under duress to not appear totally uncaring to the kids.  Way to show me what he thought my worth was? 

I knew that if I tried to talk to him about it, he’d instantly become aggrieved, misunderstood, unappreciated, and I’d hear a barrage of accusations about every way that he feels uncared for by me.  Every way that I fell short of being a good wife.  Every way that he sacrificed for me, and how unappreciative I was. That would cause me to feel confused, off kilter,  and I’d end up thinking about everything he ‘tried’ to do for me and the kids.  After being bombarded with that, I usually just let it drop into the Swamp of Deadends.  My feelings about not being cared for on my birthday, Christmas, and other special days were all compartmentalized into a box and shoved in some emotional closet.

Bottom line, my husband doesn’t forget my birthday.  He chooses not to do anything for or about it.

I know this because he’s been reminded, and usually not by me. My daughters would remind him.

Once several years back, his mother heard from one of my daughters that their father didn’t ‘remember’ or celebrate my birthday.  Even his own mother thought that was wrong, so she tried to call and remind him ahead of time that year.  Yeah, so even that didn’t ripple the unbending pond of a passive aggressive.  I think that year he just got so busy, so so so busy that he ‘meant to’ go shopping and plan a dinner, he really did (poor busy tired lamb), but somehow the days just slipped by (even with daily reminders that followed by our daughters). 

So if he was forgetting, it was a selective and intentional forgetting. Forgetting once, twice, or a few times over a few decades could be forgetting. Ignoring it when reminded for over three decades is a purposeful pattern.

This year?  I plan to do something similar to what I did for last Mother’s day when I bought myself beautiful delphiniums to plant, and those inexpensive garden solar lights that I’ve enjoyed all summer.  I’ll think of how I want to spend the day, anything special that I want to eat (probably take out), and do whatever I want.  It’s time.

Posted in abusive husband, abusive marriage, Christian marriage, covert abuse, emotional abuse, passive aggressive, passive aggressive husband | 8 Comments