Archive for December, 2012
Nothing others do is because of you. What others say and do is a projection of their own reality. Their own dream. When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won’t be the victim of needless suffering.
Fear is a normal part of life and of the healing process. The more you become familiar with it, the less distressing it will be. Panic is fear that has spiraled out of control. You feel panic when you get scared by your own emotions and don’t have the skills to calm yourself down or when you are trying like mad to supress memories or feelings. Sometimes panic comes when the past intrudes into the present and it feels like it is happening now. Panic can seem to come out of the blue but there is always a trigger. Often it is a reminder of abuse that you are not consciously aware of.
B) Sit with the feeling – often women think that they have to do something quickly to get away from the feelings of terror and alarm but this frenzy to escape can escalate your fear rather than relieve it.
Don’t rush into action! Instead reassure yourself that this is just a feeling, powerful as it may be, and that feelings always change. When you are extremely frightened, expressing your feelings can sometimes free you from your fear.The most effective way to deal with panic is to catch it early. Once panic spirals out of control, it is more difficult to manage, but keep yourself focused in a positive direction.
A group of graduates, well established in their careers, were talking at a reunion and decided to go visit their old university professor, now retired.
During their visit the conversation turned to complaints about stress in their work lives. Offering his guests hot chocolate, the professor went into the kitchen and returned with a large pot of hot chocolate and an assortment of cups … porcelain, crystal, glass, some plain-looking, some expensive, some exquisite telling them to help themselves to the hot chocolate.
When they all had a cup of hot chocolate in hand, the professor said:
Notice that all of the nice looking, expensive cups were taken, leaving behind the plain and cheap ones. While it is normal for you to want only the best for yourselves, that is the source of your problems and stress. The cup that you are drinking from adds nothing to the quality of the hot chocolate. In most cases it is just more expensive and in some cases even hides what we drink. What all of you really wanted was hot chocolate, not the cup; but you consciously went for the best cups… And then you began eyeing each others cups:
Now consider this:Life is the hot chocolate; your job, money and position in society are the cups. They are just tools to hold and contain life.
The cup you have does not define, nor change the quality of the like you have. Sometimes, by concentrating only on the cup, we fail to enjoy the hot chocolate God has provided us.
God makes the hot chocolate, man chooses the cups. The happiest people don’t have the best of everything. They just make the best of everything that they have. Live simply. Love generously. Care deeply. Speak kindly. And enjoy our Hot Chocolate!
The topic I have chosen to write about is my own personal experience as an Abused Wife. First, I will give a brief overview regarding my personality and family background, at the time and then show these influenced my life.
My father drank a lot to avoid the problems that he was experiencing at work and home. My mother was depressed and did not know what to do. I was sheltered as a child because I was asthmatic. My parents were strict and would not allow me to go out on dates or parties so most my socializing was church oriented, through Sunday School, Canadian Girls in Training – (C. G. I. T.) and the occasional afternoon movie. My decisions were made for me, so that I never learned to think for myself. I was a very timid, shy, quiet person and spent most of my time reading romance novels dreaming that a knight in shining armor would sweep me off of my feet, and take me away. I lived in a dream world which was a form of escape from my parent’s problems.
When I was sixteen and a half, I met a man who showed an interest in me. He took me to the movies, restaurants and he even bought me flowers. I was instantly swept off my feet and thought that at last my knight had come for me. At last I felt important, I was an “adult” and it felt great. I was almost eighteen when I moved into his apartment, at his insistence, and tow months later were married. I felt lucky to have been chosen by him. Our friends all told me how wonderful he was and that I was lucky to be married to him. Little did anyone know what would happen during the next seven years and a half years until I had to go with my girlfriend to the United States for ten days.
My first memory of abuse was that he had a habit of lighting a cigarette and then to put the match out, he would touch it to my hand. He would laugh about it and think it was a big joke. I was angry at him and told him so, but he persisted in doing it. During my pregnancy, I experienced fluid retention, dizziness, headaches, fainting spells and so on. Because of this, I required a lot of sleep. One day my husband came home from work and wanted to know why I had not done the dishes. I said” because I was laying down having a rest”. This angered him for some unknown reason and he spent the next hour yelling at me saying that I was lazy, I was a terrible wife and how dare I lay down to rest. He yelled obscenities at me and I felt completely demoralized after he was done. After my daughter was born things at home seemed to settle down. We had our disagreements but nothing too serious or so I thought. About the time my daughter was a year old, the physical, emotional mental and sexual abuse started again. We were having a disagreement about our finances and it turned into an attack situation, with him putting me down. He told me that I was lazy, that I had problems, I was not motivated and I did not know how to handle money. then he proceeded to make obscene remarks. I immediately tried to defend myself and lashed back verbally thinking that if he could do it to me, I could do it back. This made him angry and he became violent. He came over to me, grabbed me by the sweater, lifted me up and threw me into the wall. I was so shocked. I didn’t know what to do. The next day, I experienced guilt feelings and I felt that it was my fault that he did what he did and I felt that I deserved it. I started to develop a perfectionist complex working full-time, doing housework and being a mother. I tried to meet all of his demands which caused a great deal of stress. I was tired and ill as a result of my pregnancy. I would pass out and have dizzy spells, headaches, blurred vision and extreme pain in my limbs and joints. My husband decided that I was a hypochondriac and my doctor said that he could not find anything physically wrong with me. Fortunately, my mother took me to another doctor who performed the same tests and I was diagnosed with mononucleosis and a hormonal imbalance of estrogen which accounted for the symptoms that I was displaying. The verbal abuse continued. My husband refused to believe that I was ill and told me that I had problems, that I was crazy and anything else that he could invent to put me down. The abuse continued on a daily basis, as I endured emotional, physical, sexual,mental and verbal abuse.
A serious incident of physical abuse happened when my daughter was four years old. My husband was angry at me because I had attended a birthday party with my daughter instead of staying at home to have sexual relations with him. By this time our marriage was in a terrible state and I was unresponsive to him. He demanded sex every day and twice a day if he could get his way. Also many times after we had sex, he would compare me to past girlfriends and tell me that I wasn’t as good as they had been. He equated the physical act with love, and as long as he was having sex, then he was proving that he loved me. He further argued about my visiting our neighbours, saying that I was running the streets and he believed that I was a tramp. These accusations were similar to the ones made by his father to his mother. The argument got worse so I decided to go for a walk and remove my daughter from witnessing it. As I started to go outside with my daughter, he grabbed her, turned and kicked me in the leg. The impact was so forceful, the blood vessels in my leg were broken and the leg was badly bruised. I still have the marks today.
The next day, I called a neighbour and told her what happened. We talked about me leaving him and receiving welfare. I was too frightened to leave, but had enough foresight to go to the doctor and explained what happened. She told me that I had several choices: 1) seek counselling a the Markham Family Life Centre. 2) she would counsel both of us. 3) I should leave him. I told her that my husband said that I deserved to be kicked and that I had a problem, also that I was stupid and incapable of taking care of my daughter. I believed him. This belief was the result of his abuse. She told me that he was the one with a problem,if this is the way that he handled his temper. Armed with this knowledge, I made an appointment with the Markham Family Life Centre. My husband and I went for counselling for four months and it seemed to help. We were able to communicate better and generally get along. Six months later, my husband started his abusive behaviour again. First it was verbal abuse. I could not cook; I was a terrible housewife etc. This abuse escalated and he began to break the dishes and to punch holes in the walls.
One night when he came home from work drunk and wanted sex. I refused to have anything to do with him while he was drunk. We got involved in yet another argument. He said that I did not love him, that I was not good as a mother and wife and so on. He grabbed me, threw me on the bed and raped me. I tried to fight him but he was stronger than I was. I was terrified and didn’t know what to do. After that I felt violated and was raging inside. The next day guilt set in and again I felt that I was to blame, because I had refused to have sex. I became very depressed and hated myself. I felt worthless and not good.
On a cold and frosty morning while shopping with a friend. I caught a glimpse of myself in a store window. What I saw both startled and shocked me. I took a long look at myself and surveyed my appearance. My hair was straight and straggly and windblown, I wore no makeup. The coat that I was wearing was second-hand out of fashion from the twenties or thirties, dark blue, squared shoulders and the inside had no lining. My pullover top helped to keep me warm but it had holes under the arms. I never bothered to mend them; I figured that my arms would cover them. My slacks were a dark blue nylon fabric with the elastic stretched out of shape. My medium-sized frame carried fifty pounds of excess weight. This was a crutch I had developed to hide from any attention from men. I thought “Oh my god what have I come to!” I had been poor when I was growing up but never had my appearance looked this bad. “What am I to do with myself?’ I felt so worthless. I felt that I had slipped into a black empty hole. i could no longer feel anything. Fortunately I prayed and again was given the strength to go on, if only for my daughter’s sake and eventually mine.
Another two months passed as I wandered in my confusion, trying to decide what I should do. Finally, I gathered enough courage to go back to the Markham Family Life Centre. At the centre, the long process of healing began. Week by week my life began to sort itself out as I described to my counsellor about the abuse that I endured, my reactions and feelings about my situation. While in counselling I learned how to be assertive and stand up to his abuse. He maintained that I was a tramp and that he had dragged me up from the gutter and made a woman out of me. He would tell my daughter that I wanted to go to wild parties, drink booze, smoke pot and sleep with every Tom, Dick and Harry that came along. He even told her that I was a lesbian. He controlled my movements to the point that I was only allowed to go out for one hour a week to go grocery shopping with a girlfriend and to go to work. He had some of his friends posted on the street to watch my movements.
The final incident that gave me the courage to leave occurred one night when I came home from work. My daughter was still awake so I helped her to get ready for bed. While helping her, I discovered a red mark on her buttocks. I confronted my husband and he said” she would not do as I told her to, so I kicked her.” I was furious and told him that if he ever kicked her again that would take action against him.
Two months later with the help from family and friends, I left him and went to the United States for a while. The past three years have been a struggle for me, both financially and emotionally. But I have learned who I am and what I can do. I have learned from my past and today I have a great deal of support from my church and friends. My faith in God, in life itself has helped me though and I look forward to tomorrow knowing I will face what ever it brings me a little stronger and a lot wiser.
Written by Donna Bailey in 1984/85
A Friends Voice
I met Donna when she signed on as a Yard Supervisor at the school where I taught kindergarten. Her daughter was in my class. At the time, the lunch hour afforded the children a good half hour of outdoor play. This required supervision of one of the teachers and two parents who would patrol the playground. During that period Donna was pleasant, quiet and somewhat shy with adults but very good with the children. We were glad to have her aboard.
One day a young male substitute teacher came to the Grade 7 class. He was quite handsome with “Hollywood” good looks. I was on yard duty with Donna and another parent named Liz. As we came out of the school building and before separating to our assigned areas, I said to Donna and Liz “Did you see the Grade 7 supply teacher? Isn’t he absolutely gorgeous?” Then Liz came out with a statement often used by women in appreciation of male pulchritude. “He can put his shoes under my bed anytime!” she said. Donna stopped dead in her tracks, a look of horror on her face. She began to scold us in no uncertain terms. We had no business looking at a man who isn’t our husband. We tried to reassure her that our comments didn’t mean were about to leave our husbands and run off with this young man. Liz said it’s just a joke Donna, however she could not be mollified. “But you’re both married women, she said firmly. I remember this scene because Donna’s outburst ws so out of character from the usual calm, quiet demeanor we had come to know. For Donna, this was no joking matter.