Chapter 9: My Biggest Mistake
"I could scratch your eyes out!" Harry bellowed at me while shaking his fist in the air.
If your partner is verbally threatening you, along with intimidating gestures, or if they throw you against a wall by your neck- GET OUT as soon as safely possible. In most cases, the situation will never improve; more often than not, it will worsen. A meager percentage of perpetrators seek therapy, partake in an anger management course, or change.
Sadly, many victims know in their deepest, darkest-secret core that something is not "right", but they want to believe in the empty promises, false apologies, and the love bombing from their perpetrator that soon follows. Enter a parade of pirouetting unicorns. I know because I lived it with Harry.
Power and control- the baseline for all domestic violence. Underneath this dilapidated umbrella, the victim lives in a state of continuous confusion while walking on eggshells. Feelings of intimidation and fear become the norm- from a menacing look or action, gaslighting, isolation, flying monkeys, blame-shifting, privilege or financial abuse, threats, lies, cheating, and finally, explosion. Often life-threatening. Then, the enticing love bombing begins again in the vicious cycle of abuse. That is until the victim hopefully regains their courage in safely leaving with every ounce of their now frail being. Statistics show that a victim takes an average of seven attempts to leave their perpetrator forever. I believe this because I lived this statistic as well.
Emotional abuse may feel the most crippling because the after-effects, triggers, and recovery can last for years, if not a lifetime. It underlies all verbal, physical, sexual, and financial abuse. It disempowers the victim and destroys trust in a world they once knew. I was unaware I was experiencing the emotional abuse that continued to build while embroiled. And I thank God daily for my "Success team" that helped me tirelessly after I broke the silence, separated, filed for divorce, and during my healing process (and any latent triggers from trauma memory).
As it turns out, I was not "overly sensitive" or "crazy", as Harry would tell me endlessly, i.e., gaslighting. Nor was I "smug" when I would garner an ounce of strength to not partake in his swirling bee-in-a-bottle confusing and manipulative conversations. Nor was I "lecturing" him when I would ask questions regarding the cornucopia of lies and gaslighting.
Instead, I had become enlightened regarding what had been occurring for years and finally garnered the courage to leave for the last time. I found confidence again in the simplest tasks, like knowing I could make an egg frittata without Harry's micromanagement, dust the home competently, and felt proud of my many capabilities he would belittle me for in front of others while he took the praise. And thankfully, I would never again hear a disparaging annual Christmas box memory written by Harry and read before my family.
After Harry exclaimed in an attempt of praise during our therapy and his hope to end our first three-month separation early, "I put Amy on a pedestal", he would follow up the next week with, "I can finally live my life now, you are insane." Or written statements: "To be clear, I love the good girl you are. I love that you work so hard to love me. You are strong and smart, and I appreciate your patience with me and us as I learn." What an understatement.
Sentiments like these are manipulative and love bombing tactics, gaslighting, and emotional abuse. Harry's professed chaotic attachment style from early childhood became our attachment style. An attachment style I later learned brought back a sense of familiarity from my childhood. Thankfully, this "good girl" finally grew some cahones and stopped working so hard to balance on tip-toe upon his broken pedestal.
Gaslighting, aka crazy-making, in my experience, is perhaps the most wicked tactic to process. It begins slowly and continues to build until the victim second guesses everything in their life and their sanity- about them, their perpetrator, and others, not knowing what is accurate or believable. The rumination becomes unbearable.
To our therapist or me, Harry would deny that he ever said or did the things I knew were real, even when I had evidence. Or, in a false plea for sympathy, say, "I have memory loss during moments of rage. It's about controlling me, not you.", yet never actually making an effort to control himself, including screaming obscenities at Therapist #2 before storming out. Thankfully, she demanded an apology and told him, in no uncertain terms, that he would not be welcome in our sessions if it ever occurred again. What an important lesson for me to see her strength and boundaries in action. By the way, if you need to begin compiling evidence about your partner, you are probably already on the precipice of needing to leave.
I began to question everything, making me appear crazy. I lost trust in my very being, remaining self-worth, and self-control. I was in flight or fight mode, yet I felt incapable and frozen. My crazy reactions perpetuated Harry's use of his "flying monkeys" until I needed to shut the door on my family and mutual friends in distrust or, in my opinion, their ignorance regarding the world of domestic violence I had been living in. I've learned that, sadly, this is a common occurrence in an effort for victims to heal and feel safe.
Once a perpetrator realizes how crazy your behavior looks to those unaware of the ongoing abuse, flying monkeys and triangulation are common tactics, conscious or subconscious, to gain the upper hand and sympathy in their proposed victimhood. "Most men would have left", professed Harry- a statement his short-term addiction therapist supposedly told him regarding me and our marriage. Or remember those bestie-french-neighbors we would spend hours upon hours with for years? After Harry spent a few months alone with them in France after separation and I filed for divorce, he nailed the coffin on me as the crazed, soon-to-be ex-wife. The surprise lock changes on the front door that greeted Vino and me upon arrival in France? The work of his now flying monkeys who laughed at me from the wings.
Enter Isolation. Removing the victim from their safe surroundings and support- whether it be close friends or family. A perpetrator will not try to persuade a victim's most intimate inner circle to believe their falsehoods. But, they will reach out to distant friends or others who have not yet been made aware of the abuse to build their team of flying monkeys and support in continuing to cause emotional harm and further isolation. Our spending half our time in France only helped him in isolating me. Years later, I learned that Harry gaslit both my then-best friend and myself, ultimately destroying our friendship; she was like the sister I never had growing up. And sadly, yes, he did also verbally abuse her.
The love bombing after any abuse is powerful: promises, tears, gentle touches, lovemaking, beautiful presents, and what ultimately turns into endless empty apologies.
No matter how many vulgar names were screamed at me, "secret" plans to meet with my adult kids (i.e., triangulation) after I expressed the desire to have a conversation together (including my decision to file for divorce), attempts to cut me off from making plans with my friends, financial belittlement and inaccurate blame, and continued physical abuse- I continued to make excuses to stay just a bit longer. I was naively holding hope for change, stuck in my victimhood.
Physical and verbal abuse shows a total disregard for respect for another human being, not to mention a lack of healthy boundaries. Harry's disrespect didn't stop with me. To my embarrassment, Harry would create arguments with strangers while waiting in an airport line, at the theater, in parking lots, in restaurants...with my kids, family, and friends. One of my friends nick-named the bullying side of Harry "Tyson", which we would laugh at then. But, none of it was funny, rather disturbingly uncomfortable and sad.
Around year nine of marriage, I remember sharing details of my recent argument with Harry with a girlfriend. It included his calling me a "C*N*" repeatedly. We blew it off to "everyone occasionally exhibits this type of behavior when overwhelmed in a heated argument". In finding compassion, I get that we, imperfect human beings, may say some things we regret in the heat of an argument and then genuinely apologize afterward, with an honest effort never to repeat it. But, when belittling and name-calling continue (for years!) with zero change- this is neither okay nor healthy. Hopefully, we learn to remove ourselves during those heart-racing 20 minutes, or however long is agreed to, to calm down and regain control of our anger and underlying emotions. Removing oneself to regain composure and a clear head is what a healthy disagreement looks like.
Early in our marriage, I breezily brushed off the first time Harry picked me up by my neck when I was on the floor sobbing, leaning against our bed, as an ordinary loss of temper. Yes, I said, "ordinary". Although my Mother had thrown things, screamed, and spanked my brother and me "back in the day", I had never experienced anything similar to Harry's type of physical abuse. Yet.
The second occurrence of him trapping me and holding me down on the floor with his knee in my chest- I also brushed it off as a momentary loss of control that would never occur again. After all, in writing, he apologized profusely and promised it would never happen again.
The third excruciating moment that is etched in my memory forever is when Harry grabbed me by the throat and threw me against a wall, where my buttocks hit the radiator, leaving me to crumble like a rag doll to the floor. I was left with a black, blue, and purple mark about the size of a softball. Looking back, what is even crazier to me now is that we made love the following morning after Harry appeared extremely remorseful, delivering a beautiful cappuccino for me as I awoke. What happened next was the most outrageous and hideous act I have ever experienced. Harry wanted me to hold and comfort him as he cried from feeling so poorly about what he did to me. And I did! WTF. I actually felt bad for him. Obviously, grabbing me by the neck was one of his power and control choices.
The fourth- He understood, and I knew I had no choice but to file for divorce as I had warned him of this consequence in our therapy. Harry had hit me repeatedly with extreme force, across my face with a crystal-embellished throw pillow while trapping me against a wooden post in our beautiful Chicago loft (that he had promised, again, would be a "safe zone"). After he spent the rest of the night out (thank God), he came into my bedroom the following morning, my eyes just opening and my head resting on my pillow. Again, he wept and said, "I know you're probably going to file for divorce now." I remained silent. Maybe that's what he hoped for, but then why the theatrics of tears? Yet, unbelievably, Harry ultimately attempted to dismiss his abuse as "he had only used a pillow."
The fifth occurrence- (You didn't think I would file so quickly, right? Harry knew better.) Still somewhat blinded and operating in trauma, I had promised not to file for divorce until after our summer in France. However, I was clear that I would no longer remain silent about his abuse, which only aggravated the situation in hindsight. We had a couple of good friends' weddings to attend there, so my foggy judgment in waiting to file only made sense for all concerned. (Insert, "Really?!") However, the truth is that we also clearly know now that I still was not sure I would file and held hope for that beautiful lie that Harry and I lived.
Unbeknownst to me then, the final unimaginable blow within weeks of the previous was ultimately the deal breaker for me. I was granted permission after surprisingly asking Harry, during the first wedding weekend festivities, to randomly check his phone, as previously agreed upon in transparency (definitely poorly timed, of which I am now very aware), with the caveat I would not look at his journal pages, which I did not. After he decided I had seen enough, the agreement was null and void. I was left with bruises all over my body from him being physically on top of me, fighting to get his phone back after I calmly reminded him of his agreement while suggesting and attempting to have a reasonable conversation about it (I can't begin to imagine what was in those journal pages!). It ended when he grabbed my nearby cell, which angered him further as I didn't care, and threw it against the wall after I screamed out for help to guests in the next room. After he created a significant dent into the cement wall, I feared my phone would explode from the heat it emitted in my hand. The two guests were speechless, mouths hanging open in disbelief, and Harry ran off to God knows where absent for the duration of the night, thank God.
His cell phone (the one I had held onto), well, I did what anyone would do in this state of mind and put it in the toilet the next day. "Buh, bye." Within days, I departed alone and in shock on a vacation we were booked to enjoy together in Greece. Unsurprisingly, Harry later told me he felt uncomfortable with my choice of wearing summer dresses or bathing suits instead of covering up his recent disturbing body artistry (in temperatures of 90-degree heat) in front of my friends I was to meet there. The silence had finally been broken. It felt like I was beginning to rip off a bandaid at the speed of a sloth. But, I was now in the arms of the beginnings of my then-unknown success team.
Intimate partner violence is considered domestic violence, which includes harassment and assault. I had never considered Harry having sexually abused me, at least not with my limited knowledge of the subject then, which consisted solely of "rape". In 2017, the #Metoo movement exploded on the internet and every newsstand just months after I became enlightened about domestic violence and considered filing for divorce.
At that moment, I realized that the moments Harry would explode in wicked anger, yell obscenities at me, or emotionally punish me if I refused sexual relations with him were, in fact, a form of intimate partner violence. I recall numerous moments, such as when I came down with a bad cold or flu and Harry returned home after a business trip. On those occasions, I still would have a lovely dinner in anticipation of a blissful reunion. Yet, Harry would become angry when I refused to have sexual relations with him because I felt ill and tired. Or, while on vacation, Harry slapped the water in a childish fit in our private jacuzzi when I didn't deliver sex immediately upon his demand, swearing at me because I wanted to continue enjoying the sunset together for a bit longer. Eventually, he stormed out for a lovely solo dinner, leaving me to cry alone. Power and control. Guilt, shame, and emotional manipulation in play.
I had always thought the biggest mistake I made in my life was not finishing college. That is until now. My biggest mistake was not breaking my silence and filing domestic violence charges against Harry. I had years of evidence, photos of bruises to match, and witnesses who would have supported me in court. Although I understand precisely why I didn't, in hindsight, I am sure it prolonged the abuse and, more importantly, my healing. But it's not in our best interest to hold on to the "what ifs". What is beneficial is to continue moving forward, growing, and learning from "what was". If I can make a difference for one victim of domestic violence, then my experience and life have had a purpose.
"When people show you who they are, believe them the first time." Maya Angelou
*Disclaimer- All names of those living here on earth have been changed.
I am not an expert on domestic violence or a licensed therapist. My opinions are based on personal experience and research.
If you or someone you know may need assistance, please contact National Domestic Violence Hotline at 800-799-7233
