“Psalm 37:4 Delight thyself also in the Lord: and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart.”- KJV
I love you Babe and I’m so sorry, it won’t happen again!
In normal relationship sexual relations between couple's range from 2 times a week to maybe 4 to 6 times a month, so I have been told.
This was not the case in my marriage; relations several times a day were not uncommon. Pleasing him was a big part of sex. At some point it just became a thing to do. Just praying he would be satisfied enough to leave me alone. I could have had a fever, throwing up, or in severe pain, this would not matter. If I didn't have sex with him, he would accuse me of having an affair.
Why else would I not be in the mood to share intimacy with my partner?
Punishments for being disobedient, took many forms one was for me to lay in the front room, in another part of the house, without blankets, pillows, on the floor. Most times I was naked and the heat turned down low.
Hours would go by; I would be curled up in a ball trying to get warmth while attempting to fall asleep. I felt very thankful that I was being left alone.
Eventually there would be a yell to come to bed, what was I doing?
I needed to come to bed and why was I laying on the floor?
It was though these incidents were made up or I imagined these things. He didn't recall what I was taking about, why would I make him angry?
“You know Mel, you just did what I told you, things would go easy and things would go smoothly.
He would scream at me or harshly to me about my wifely duties to my husband. I needed to know my place, but most times he just told me that I was a lay or slut nothing more.
I disliked myself. A lot of times I daydreamed and floated away to forget what was happening.
On occasions when I did let myself go and enjoy myself I would get in trouble for making noise, or faking my reactions. He would complain I must be faking because there was not enough lubrication.
“Was I seeing someone else?” he would demand.
“Who was I thinking of?” he would ask.
“Does he have a large penis?” he would scream about this phantom person that I must be having an affair with. I would remain silent.
On more than a few occasions he would just force himself on me. Covering my mouth protesting, I would close my legs but he would still force himself in me.
Choking me, pulling my hair so hard my head would snap back in disfiguring poses. There were patches of missing hair, after the intrusion I would find bits on the floor.
Struggling or crying made him pulls my hair harder, choking me harshly. He grew excited to hear me cry or begging for him to stop.
He'd call me his bitch, his whore, I felt used and unworthy of anything. He would demanded me to call him Master and I was supposed to be used, a plaything that’s all. During relaxed times I could't call him Master without giggling. It was absurd to me, perhaps I was being a bit sassy by doing so,this made him infuriated.
I wanted to be done, I longed for freedom and to find happiness. I romanticized that I would have someone that would love me for me, hold my hands or cuddling with me at night, though in reality I didn't think of looking for anyone.
I prayed he would find love with another.
My desire was to be set free. Men were all alike, no one would or care for me the way he did. The only I was good for was to be on my knees, as this was how I would get anything good in life.
Love is a funny little word. After time the word had lost its meaning to me. I had stopped saying I loved him long ago.
It was not uncommon for him to call me 6 or more times in an hour, waiting for me to say I loved him back. I couldn't say the words because I didn't feel it. I had no feelings for him anymore.
There were times that I had gotten up in the middle of the night, due to aches and pains or just being unable to sleep. Rarely did he ask why I was getting out of bed or if I had discomfort or a problem to keep me awake.
Most times I was accused of keeping him awake! I would be quiet, no lights or television, he would still get upset with me.
A nightly duty was to scratch his back to help him fall asleep, not preforming this nightly ritual would get me yelled at, he physical.
If I fell asleep before him he would shake me awake or punch me until I woke up. This of course didn't take me very long.He would keep this going through the long hours of the night and wee hours of the morning until he fell asleep or he was satisfied enough that I had done the job well enough. I would only be allowed to stop until he gave me permission to stop. Being pushed and shoved out of bed for not doing what I was told to do bring me to the point where I hated nighttime.
I was continually accused of having affairs with men, or women or perhaps both. These were people he came to contact with daily, or someone he would see taking a glance at me. Many abusers believe the victim is “cheating”.
Anyone showing attention towards me, must mean I was having an affair or that I was flirting with that person.
Eventually, I was being dropped off at stores to pick up women for him. Crazy, I know! I was tired of the charade of pretending to love this person. Rob would change moods on a dime.
I became a woman on a mission to find love for him.
I had a belief that if I found someone that he could fall for then all would be right in the world. Opening this door to Pandora’s Box ended up going against my beliefs. It led down a road to where I felt dirty and knew it was my own doing.
This later escalated where I would have to go to meetings from dating sites. There was constant contact with Rob at all times.
Admittedly, I was relieved that I was able to get away no matter how short the time away it was.
During these events I stayed by myself, not wishing to be where there. Bars were very depressing; I am not much of a drinker. I always ordered water and to make sure no one had slipped anything in it. I had enough of drama, not wishing to add fire to the flames of my unhappy life.
Why didn't I just sneak off and do something else, such as see a movie or go to the library? I should have stood up to Rob and said no, but I was terrified. Maybe I could I run away? These thoughts seemed very selfish of me. I knew he would check in with some lady friends he had just to make sure I was with and where I was supposed to be.
I was doing these things which were opening my heart and soul to darkness that I felt I could not get away from. I knew I created the situation I had gotten myself into. My decisions were getting into water; I prayed God would whisk me out of the situation I found myself in. Feeling incredibly guilty for where I was.
The kids were with him and I felt awful for thinking these things. I prayed for God to rescue me from muddling up my life and the lives of my children.
“The sociopath will- Belittle you, then humiliate you, then slander you, then provoke you. Why? To cause confusion, sadness, sorrow, embarrassment and pain.”- Alison Zehe
I swore up and down I would never share some of the things I am sharing here. I was and still am terribly embarrassed looking back at my past relationship. I receive messages from victims and survivors from many parts of the world, sharing these things has let others know they are not alone, that they are not losing their mind.
There seems to be a commonality between many victims of various forms of abuse. This is not something that I found on the web or in a scientific study, by speaking with a handful of victims and survivors via email a common thread of the victim being placed in a submissive role in which the abuser feels much empowered.
I had been raped by Rob, raped with household and food items. Forced to perform oral sex on body parts that were not clean and this was my fault that I did not bathe him properly. Yes, the bedtime ritual was bath time for both in which I bathed him from head to toe.
The sexual abuse seemed to suit him as this type of abuse did not show bruising or wounds where others can see.
Most times he believed these things were all amusing. He felt no remorse or guilt. He thought these were “fun” things to do at my expense, causing me great harm in more than one way. Even after leaving him two times in 2007 the abuse did not stop.
I slept with a knife under my side of the bed; while he slept he would kick me, push me, bite me and choke me. He claimed he never remembered doing something like that.I never used my knife but did entertain the thought on more than one heated occasion.
I wore clothes at home that were revealing or none at all when the kids were in bed as ordered. If I choose to disobey there would be consequences, such as some sort of sexual abuse until I would beg for him to stop. Crying or begging never did any good and it seemed to excite him more. Making him go faster, harder and longer.
If he was unable to fulfill himself during relations, it would be my fault and the abuse would continue until he was satisfied. No matter if there was blood during these exchanges. The only thing that mattered was his satisfaction.
He had latched on the pornography early on with the discovery of the World Wide Web. Finding disturbing images or scantily clad women or men parading around half nude or entirely opened up another sore spot. After a time he couldn't stop watching it and nor could I.
My slow addiction to watching pornography was just as harmful. I watched for my own release and to fill the emptiness that I longed for in a fantasy world that wasn't real even when my abuser was not home. During acts of pain performed by Rob,I would escape into myself and felt as though I was watching myself out of my body.
After a time I grew to connect the pain during sex and pornography as part of love to which in the beginning of my relationship with my husband, these were part of the bedroom. I didn't care for anything rough or unreality of porn, that isn't what I wanted.
Many people have fetishes, desires and so on, but I believed deep down, pain or watching porn in the bedroom is that not part of the beauty of love between two people that love one another. I knew I had to break free of these chains.
I had to ask God to cleanse me of both of these. I needed to clean my spirit from these things after I admitted I needed help. These things and many other things I was ashamed of that were yet to come.
“I’m proud of my heart. It’s been played, stabbed, cheated, burned and broken, but somehow it still works.”-Unknown
Looking for love in all the wrong places
He had toyed with the thought of a second wife and later this spring out of control so this would include sexual adventures that included other. I felt as though I fell down a rabbit hole and couldn't get out. These things led to going to places I didn't want to go with people I didn't want to meet or have relations with.
Threesomes, swinging, mild BDSM were some of the things that stirred the pot. Of course the problems worsened when others took a fond interest in me. He became jealous that the only reason people were interested is because of me. For some reason that made me giggle inwardly. After a bit I thought I was losing it.
I cried out to God on many occasions about how unsafe and wrong my plan had gone.
Before or during a visit from someone or a couple, I would do my best to make a speedy exit. Whether it was to complain that I needed to use the bathroom or that the kids were calling me. I was lying. I wanted to get out of the hole I dug myself in.
He give me a look that would send chills down my spine. Other times he would pull me aside and threaten me with harm or he would harm the kids if I didn't go through with the evening.
Oh, Lord! What did I get myself into?
After the exchange he would gently tell me how good I was for listening. He didn't realize how much I loved him or what a cool wife I was for doing these things. I felt so unclean afterwards. I would scrub myself pink and cry silently. I felt so ashamed of these things.
I was torn inside while one part of me wanted to be gone, another part of me wished to still hold on to my marriage. It’s all I knew.
Leaving seemed scarier than staying.
I talked myself into staying. I reasoned with myself and would tell myself it’s not that bad.
Prior to 2007 I had a plan that sounds twisted right now. After a while I was not seeing any light at the end of the tunnel. I had begged and pleaded with God to help intervene in our situation. After a while I just began to give up in some ways, believing I was as worthless as he screamed that I was. I gave in to dark thoughts that this is all there was for me.
“There were times when I retreated inside myself to escape the abuse. I would find myself feeling as though I was watching a scene from a movie.”
Take me away
When you are in a relationship with someone in a cycle of abuse you tend to be a co-dependent. Just as in alcoholism, drug abuse, you fall into a very similar pattern. Right after I left it was hard not to jump every time my cell phone rang, it was hard not to return his calls and it was hard not to read the ranting’s he's posting on some social media outlet.
Both my sister and a special friend recognize that it's not healthy to keep feeding fuel into the fire. My sister took away my cell phone, and my friend suggested someone else view his blogs and to keep us updated if something is important.
Most important is to heal the kids and to heal myself. I've got to say that I am very blessed with a wonderful support system of people that love us! Positive loved ones that guard us like fierce Mama and Papa bears! It has been encouraging for us to keep pushing and striving forward. I feel as though a weight has been lifted off us.
Things we need to work on are-
Our insecurities about loving others, the kids feel cautious about new people in our life. Understandably they don't want to get hurt physically or emotionally again.
There are self-esteem issues.
When you feel as though you have been pushed down constantly it's hard not to believe that you are a worthy person. I have always told the kids that they are beautiful, worthy of love and a rich life filled with happiness and joy.
It's still hard to believe that when someone is putting you down. I know myself I have issues with this. He would tell the kids they were stupid, idiots, never going to amount to anything, or my favorite they Rob end up like their mother. There for a while I felt so low! I didn't understand why.
“The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?”- Psalm 27:1
I was on Zoloft for a time in 2007 and 2008, for what I thought was for the migraines I was experiencing. My primary physician had hinted that I may be depressed. I brushed it off, not wanting to cause any undue attention to my situation.
I was pushed and put down so much I have to admit that I did feel suicidal. Rob constantly told me I was such a perfect bitch that never did wrong.
Funny he was a contradicted himself so many times, one minute I could not do anything right the next I was perfect.
One particular time he pushed me out the doorway, with me hanging onto the door jamb fingers dug into the wood, I have a mark on my back that is a reminder from the door frame scrapping against my bra and back.
I remember him screaming and yelling at me telling me what a horrible mom and wife I was. He yelled at me to go walk in front of a truck, that I was worthless and a lousy person. He told me I couldn't do anything right, I couldn't even fuck. And I only good on my knees and that I even was lousy at that.
I could see the kids in the background crying, Jessica was wanted to go to me but Matt held her back they were all crying. Alex was whimpering on the stairs. Just in the blink of an eye I was shoved out the door. He bent my fingers backwards to get me out of the door, I was banging on the door crying, it was raining and cold. I had no shoes on, no coat, I was out in jeans and a shirt. I had no phone, no money and I would be damned if I was going to leave my kids in there with him!
I headed to the car and was grateful that I had left the van unlocked and my spare set of keys in there as well. I'm very forgetful at times but thank goodness this was one of those times.
My body hurt all over, my back felt as though it was on fire in the area of the scrape. My neck hurt as he placed me in a head lock, I noticed my lip was a little tore. Everything happened so quickly.
I crept in quietly I was so cold! The house was quiet. He turned off all the lights, the dog was even hiding! The poor dog was terrified of him!
I walked up the stairs and the bedroom door was closed, I walked as quietly as I could to the kids’ rooms, the girls were still up crying and they got more upset as I walked to them. He had told them I wasn't their Mom anymore and I was going to kill myself. And if they talked to me he wouldn't talk to them again. He told them I was abandoning them and didn't want them.
I held them and kissed them, gently telling them to keep quiet and try to calm down. Mom's not going anywhere without them! I went to Matt's room and he was equally upset but he didn't want me to get into any more trouble so I kissed him and went to open our bedroom door.
Rob was on his side. I knew he wasn't asleep. As soon as he spoke I jumped about 5 feet in the air!
He was very calm asking if I was OK, he asked me why I drove him to do get angry.
Why I just couldn't love him and get along. That he would take care of me and make me a trophy wife.
He said many women would love to be treated like the queen he was treating me as. I couldn't help but feel so knotted up inside. I just wanted to take the kids and run. I didn't. I stayed longer, this was in I'm thinking March. I remember there was still some snow on the ground.
I wasn't thinking right, I knew in my heart I wanted to leave. But he was so convincing. He ran my shower and said no one will love you like I do. No one will want you and no one will ever treat you as well as I do. Inwardly I laughed but at the same time I thought I was losing my mind. How can this be?
He gave me a dose of my Zoloft and the next day I didn't take anymore. I couldn't take those pills anymore; I needed my facilities to be on the ball.
I didn't want to remain married. Situations like this went on and on for months. I would tell him I wanted out and the outcome would be bad. I stayed, I planned, and I worked out things in my head to leave. I couldn't keep the kids in this house! I wanted out even more!
I was so tired and worn out. I had prayed for years for my husband to turn himself around. But he never was able to completely do so. He needed help that I couldn't give him, he needed help that I couldn't force him to get and I needed out. I couldn't stay and my love for him had long ago vanished.
In an abusive relationship the enormous amount of control the abuser gains from a victim is unbelievable! Soon after I left my abuser I felt guilt wash over me like a cold pail of water. I felt so dumb for giving this person power to bring me to my knees with a glance or tone.
“Hello, St. Jude House, how can I help you?”
After a long pause, the woman asked again, “Hello?”
I managed to squeak out my name. I had called this number earlier in the week to get information about the shelter after a woman that I bumped into at the shop we ran had told me about what it was exactly.
I had choked back tears, trying to catch my breath, so I can answer the intake person’s questions to find out if they would have room for us and the reason for needing to be residents of they’re facility. There was a long pause that seemed like an eternity.
I felt a sudden shyness rush over me as I had let her know that prior to my calling my husband had just announced that if I did not return home within a half hour he was going to “Bash my face in when he saw me”.
I babbled off the reason why I couldn't go home, as if it was a casual conversation about the weather, the woman on the other line kindly announced, “We had some last minute changes and can take you and your children in, now do you have a way to get here?” She asked. I was dumbfounded and the flood gates of tears opened up.
I stammered that I had a minivan and proceeded to provide relevant information needed. I must have thanked her a dozen times in the few minute call. I felt so grateful for the news and left my location with some money that my then sister in law and mother in law had provided, and the clothes on our back.
A few days later, I talked to his Mother, Judy, she begged me to take him back. She stated that she had visited him and he was a changed man. She pleaded that really wanted to work on our marriage!
Hesitant but I caved and we reconciled.
A week later, he became even more paranoid. He hid his money in the house somewhere. He even took the bills with him to work so
I wouldn't have access.
During one incident, he grabbed my purse claiming he believed I was going to leave him and he was going to cut me off at the chase by taking my house and car keys, cutting up my driver’s license and debit card.
Leaving the kids and I alone in the house.
So I began to plan. Once again I decided I couldn't do this anymore.
Rob was getting more physical. His abuse was intensifying so much that he was threatening to kill the kids at least 3 times a week. He threatened to kill them while they slept in various ways. This is if I left him. He didn't wish to allow me to have a choice to end the marriage.
This sadly was not our last stay at this facility in 2007. A few months later we would find ourselves back, in July of 2007. I felt like a puppy that had made a mess in the house. Those that worked there had never made me feel like a bad person for having to come back. Nor did they scrutinize me for going back to work on my marriage.
During our first stay I had learned that there was support groups, legal, job assistance, the freedom to go out during the day if necessary. There was also much needed clothing and toiletries that were generously donated by the public and organizations. This was a tremendous help since we did not have anything with but the clothing on our backs during our first stay.
I am very thankful of all I learned that I was not to blame for
“Making him angry” or whatever the situation was. I learned that I was worthy of a good life as well as a good relationship down the road. I learned that “No means no!” and “Love does not hurt!”
We were residents on 2 separate occasions in 2007 and those experiences opened my eyes as a reminder to hold myself in a higher esteem then my partner. At the time of my stay I was surrounded with over 15 beautiful survivors and each of them had a story that brought tears to my eyes.
Theirs were stories of severe battering, child sexual abuse in past or they’re children were enduring, addictions from either the victim or abuser that ranged from food to drugs. Many had been guests at the facility I was staying and other places more than 10 times.
One woman had left her abuser over 20 times and never planned to go back but she felt she may. I never heard or knew about the outcome of these broken souls, but I pray they found safety and peace.
I almost didn't feel worthy to be there as I listened to painful stories of heartache, broken bones and lives. I cried and cried while I listened to each member pour a story about themselves and what they endured. I managed to mumble that I didn't feel as though I belonged there, but as I shared my story about how I got there then I realized that I did in fact belong to this mixed group of survivors that were from various walks of life.
Chapter 22+ to come. . .