privacy is a rare gift.
No great deep discussion about privacy rights. We've got more said rights today in Canada than anyone in the history of the world has ever enjoyed. Read more old books and see what society was actually like before you argue with me. I'm tired of summing it up to be asked for the bibliography. I've read thousands of books both fiction and non-fiction, drama and technical, philosophical and educational. I've got a university degree as well. So up yours, "dear husband" I don't have to teach you anything and I'm tired of trying.
I can't get any privacy here! I'm retreating to the bathroom to type which means I'm blocking up the can the way Dan does. I hate that. I don't like this room that much either, but I can't sit upright to type in the attic and it's cold outside and I don't want Dan initiating conversation over this web blog, not even by seeing me type in it.
I've not been speaking with him. It always creates a lot of conflict in my head, though, because it's not my nature. I'm naturaly friendly. I also start questioning my perceptions, wondering if I"m crazy and what if this is all from inside me and I'm the abuser. That's what you get for being so isolated. I would say a man more concerned with my emotional well being, and more sane himself, would have gotten out and socialized locally, gotten to know people with me, and helped me manage social situations. Rather, this one avoided coming along as though it was punishment, and fled the scene if I started talking to others. You don't have to be overtly aggressive to isolate your wife, just so damned invisible that people doubt your existance and think she may be crazy. What's more, now I'm married, but single, because he's never there, I'm neither in the class of women men spend time talking with, nor the class wives spend time with. Because their husband needs my husband to talk to as a gender buffer. It's crazy, maybe, but it's how they feel sexually secure. I mean, they worry I'm going to "steal" their husbands if mine isn't around.
And of course, if I go out and have a blast without him, well that's not good. I feel some guilt and I definitely wish I could share the fun with him, unless I'm feeling angry like this week. I think, in fact,, that's the reason he treated me so horribly till we flatlined. I had a blast friday. I spent a pile of money on my bath cosmetics, then a smaller pile on lunch and a matinee with alcohol. I came home in a fantastic mood and he just withdrew. then any attempt at conversation created a political response so laced with anger and venom it felt like a lazer beam. So he kept hammering at me no matter how I tried to engage, and if I didn't, he'd start the "friendly" then switch it to anything inflammatory to enrage me. At one point I got so frustrated I went out back and pounded on the garage doors and chopped ice on the walk in the cold to calm down.
When I returned, he kept up the assault till I was utterly devastated. That was Sunday. I was going to go grocery shopping sunday but I couldn't quit crying. Monday I was going to slip out but he didn't have work and I didn't want to buy a fucking thing for him at the store. Today, same plan, but again it looks like the devil isn't leaving.
No but seriously, this is an abusive manipulative relationship. He's too ignorant and effective at self deception to be openly aware of his nature, but he's kept this up for the entire 15 years I've known him and i'm tired of thinking he can outgrow it. I also do not think I can be a rock in the midst of his chiselling behaviour. I need to figure out how to plan the future with this crippling debt we've built for ourselves, but I also need to face facts, he can't stay for life. He just can't.
I get it now, however, why women take so long to leave abusers. You sit there wondering if you're imagining it all. There are no witnesses unless they're children, because he never does it in front of them. He tells you, and anyone who asks, that it's your unpredictable intemperate mood, not his behaviour. Being female, with those damndable hormones, one wonders if he's right. Then one wonders if oneself is utterly deluded because his aggressive assertions of innocence don't fit with the remembered experiences. If I let myself listen to those thoughts, or engage him on the problem so he can repeatedly voice them at me, I quickly become genuinely sane, unable to trust my own sense or memories, and led by the whim of a madman. You know, that's what had Karla Homolka and so many other young women supporting their insane abusive mates right to the bottom of a pit of depravity. First you give your heart. Then your freedom. then your community. then your sanity. Finally, you give up your will. Now you are his puppet, slavishly eager to please and fearful of failure, unable to speak out or trust anyone or anything.
My only protection is to stop trying to discuss with him. I keep repeating to myself "I dont have to teach him anything." So it's going to be another few years of this nonsense while I try and get myself situated for a leap. I mean, it's not like I can move in with mymother and declare bankruptcy and get ondisability and make do. It's not even sensible to imagine me being able to work at a starter level jobbs. I'm really quite too disabled for normal employment and nobody wants to trust a stranger for solo work. I like to daydream about getting a job in a cafe doing short order cooking and putting together soups and pastries, paleo style. I wish I could work, it'd be fun. Nobody ever undetstyood that about me. I like working. I just can't get along with the co-workers and it makes the job toxic for me.
I can't get any privacy here! I'm retreating to the bathroom to type which means I'm blocking up the can the way Dan does. I hate that. I don't like this room that much either, but I can't sit upright to type in the attic and it's cold outside and I don't want Dan initiating conversation over this web blog, not even by seeing me type in it.
I've not been speaking with him. It always creates a lot of conflict in my head, though, because it's not my nature. I'm naturaly friendly. I also start questioning my perceptions, wondering if I"m crazy and what if this is all from inside me and I'm the abuser. That's what you get for being so isolated. I would say a man more concerned with my emotional well being, and more sane himself, would have gotten out and socialized locally, gotten to know people with me, and helped me manage social situations. Rather, this one avoided coming along as though it was punishment, and fled the scene if I started talking to others. You don't have to be overtly aggressive to isolate your wife, just so damned invisible that people doubt your existance and think she may be crazy. What's more, now I'm married, but single, because he's never there, I'm neither in the class of women men spend time talking with, nor the class wives spend time with. Because their husband needs my husband to talk to as a gender buffer. It's crazy, maybe, but it's how they feel sexually secure. I mean, they worry I'm going to "steal" their husbands if mine isn't around.
And of course, if I go out and have a blast without him, well that's not good. I feel some guilt and I definitely wish I could share the fun with him, unless I'm feeling angry like this week. I think, in fact,, that's the reason he treated me so horribly till we flatlined. I had a blast friday. I spent a pile of money on my bath cosmetics, then a smaller pile on lunch and a matinee with alcohol. I came home in a fantastic mood and he just withdrew. then any attempt at conversation created a political response so laced with anger and venom it felt like a lazer beam. So he kept hammering at me no matter how I tried to engage, and if I didn't, he'd start the "friendly" then switch it to anything inflammatory to enrage me. At one point I got so frustrated I went out back and pounded on the garage doors and chopped ice on the walk in the cold to calm down.
When I returned, he kept up the assault till I was utterly devastated. That was Sunday. I was going to go grocery shopping sunday but I couldn't quit crying. Monday I was going to slip out but he didn't have work and I didn't want to buy a fucking thing for him at the store. Today, same plan, but again it looks like the devil isn't leaving.
No but seriously, this is an abusive manipulative relationship. He's too ignorant and effective at self deception to be openly aware of his nature, but he's kept this up for the entire 15 years I've known him and i'm tired of thinking he can outgrow it. I also do not think I can be a rock in the midst of his chiselling behaviour. I need to figure out how to plan the future with this crippling debt we've built for ourselves, but I also need to face facts, he can't stay for life. He just can't.
I get it now, however, why women take so long to leave abusers. You sit there wondering if you're imagining it all. There are no witnesses unless they're children, because he never does it in front of them. He tells you, and anyone who asks, that it's your unpredictable intemperate mood, not his behaviour. Being female, with those damndable hormones, one wonders if he's right. Then one wonders if oneself is utterly deluded because his aggressive assertions of innocence don't fit with the remembered experiences. If I let myself listen to those thoughts, or engage him on the problem so he can repeatedly voice them at me, I quickly become genuinely sane, unable to trust my own sense or memories, and led by the whim of a madman. You know, that's what had Karla Homolka and so many other young women supporting their insane abusive mates right to the bottom of a pit of depravity. First you give your heart. Then your freedom. then your community. then your sanity. Finally, you give up your will. Now you are his puppet, slavishly eager to please and fearful of failure, unable to speak out or trust anyone or anything.
My only protection is to stop trying to discuss with him. I keep repeating to myself "I dont have to teach him anything." So it's going to be another few years of this nonsense while I try and get myself situated for a leap. I mean, it's not like I can move in with mymother and declare bankruptcy and get ondisability and make do. It's not even sensible to imagine me being able to work at a starter level jobbs. I'm really quite too disabled for normal employment and nobody wants to trust a stranger for solo work. I like to daydream about getting a job in a cafe doing short order cooking and putting together soups and pastries, paleo style. I wish I could work, it'd be fun. Nobody ever undetstyood that about me. I like working. I just can't get along with the co-workers and it makes the job toxic for me.