This will be a book one day

Every time I think of an idea on how to be independent while making a living, I come up against these walls. I hate them. They’re self inflicted most of the time. I wanted to make graphics, so I’ve been trying a lot more techniques, sharpening my skills, no bites. Okay, one bite. I need to get out more than I do. I’m networking. I’m posting new work out into the world. Waiting for sales.

(I need to draw more)

I wanted to do copy editing on the side, but there’s an interview process on elance. Ugh. Why does that seem so friggen difficult to me? I see that they want me to set up a skype interview and I immediately retreat into the shadows.

I still have this feeling of not being good enough. And the logo I just did turned out amazing! I actually like the two color version better than the full. No joke. I look back at other projects and I see a quality that’s uniquely mine and yet, I don’t feel confident enough to sell that quality to people. I suck, and I don’t mean my skills, I’m talking about my confidence. It’s in the tank and, believe it or not, after dealing with a sadistic jerk for 10 years, I’m doing better now than I was a year ago or even 6 months ago.

I just wish I didn’t allow him to string me along, lie to me or manipulate me. I could have done so much in that 4 years that I was a slave for him. I cooked, cleaned, took care of the kids, house (you know, the one he kept telling me was his though we were having children together), yard, made him food for almost every meal, made sure there were supplies/food in the house and even let him join bands and play video games however long he wanted. I wasn’t a bitch. I let him live his life. But he chose to live it at my expense. 

His complaint was comprised of those moments that I finally would stand up for myself after being told “no one likes [me]”, that I “gave [my son] his congenital heart defect”, that I “don’t make good decisions”, plus all the names like “crazy”, “useless”, “fucked up”, “lousy lay”, etc. Then, being followed around the house when trying to escape a barrage of the former mentioned harassment. Any time I wanted to take a walk to clear my head, I’d get followed outside “for my safety” because I “might be fucking a whole school bus of basketball players”. Yes, I was accused of that when I went for a 30 min walk after an argument. The reason he came looking for me? Our daughter was crying and he was playing video games. Fun stuff!

I was tired of being beat down and fed the excuse that he was recovering from being in an abusive relationship with his ex wife. I guess “she yelled at [him] for 4 years”, was “crazy” and was “a seriously disturbed person”. I’m sorry for believing him. A mutual friend confirmed that she’s emotional, but said she’s very sweet. I’m gonna believe her instead and apologize for believing his manipulative talk. I’m sorry YG.

His family was no better. He never took care of the kids, but when his family was around he offered a break–I took it. He so wanted them to see him as someone he’s not. He wanted so badly for people to see him as a caring, compassionate, humanitarian, socialist. His family supports everything he does and their idea of compassion is doing whatever he asks them to do. Charity isn’t in their nature. Oh, money they’ll give. Time? Fat chance!

By the way, do you know what he does all day? While I’m volunteering my time at the local farmers market or CASH meeting with a baby in or around my person or generally taking care of the house, he’s playing video games, texting his penis to random women he meets on the internet, confessing his love to a choice few and planning dates with these women. I put up with this for years thinking all I had to do was show him compassion, love him through it. He can’t accept himself, so he needs someone to accept him as he is, full tilt. I thought I could, but I couldn’t deal with the way he treated me. I couldn’t withstand the psychological and emotional abuse. 

Being told you’re worthless can take its toll. It can cause more damage than physical abuse. Plus, living in fear that he’d hit me any day, kept me in line. I never dared to tread on his “clear superiority”. 

Why did I think he would hit me? Just about the time we got back together he told me that he was about a month away from punching his ex wife in the face. If he hadn’t kicked her out when he did, he would have. He swore this to me.

Fast forward to me being 3 months pregnant with our daughter–the child he wanted more than anything for the 10 years before I got pregnant–and the incident where he leaned over me, both hands on the arms of the big leather chair I was sitting in and screamed in my face “I WANT TO HIT YOU SO BAD RIGHT NOW!!!” A statement made during an argument about whether or not I have rights and make good decisions. I never rose my voice, I didn’t demean him, I didn’t try to infringe on his basic rights, and yet all those things he did to me and more. When I ran crying from the room, he followed. He made fun of me for crying. When I protested, “YOU threatened to HIT ME!” He replied, “oh wah, now you sound like [my son].” Then proceeded to mock me.

I started packing immediately. I threatened to leave. I would have. Except… he started talking. He started manipulating me. He started first on where I would go, trying to play on the move being not so well planned out. When I told him where, he switched gears and said that I needed to think about it more; not to make a rash decision. Then, he brought in the big guns. No apology was ever utter about that incident, but I was made to feel like I was overreacting because he was in pain. Because his ex wife put him through so much. It was disgusting, looking back on it.

During all this he was sleeping with a 17 yo and flirting with her excessively on public media and through text. He had stopped flirting with me and just about stopped touching me altogether. If I remember correctly, it was right after he came back from India when he stopped being as affectionate with me. It came full stop once we found out I was pregnant.

Ok. This is where I have a little empathy for the guy. I was raped by a friend of his 4 years earlier. He was still friends with him and his friends, but mostly his friends. While trying to be friends with these friends, I found out that my rapist had raped other women in the group and molested countless others. I started to get a little indignant about being told that I need to “suck it up and just get along with him for the sake of the group”. HA! HA HAHAHA HA! Wasn’t gonna happen and I have no idea how the other 3 managed it other than one, I know, stopped going to the parties. Another kept her distance. The other denied it was rape in the way that she denies everything because life is too hard. So, I get that he may have been under emotional stress because of that.

I honestly think he was looking for a good excuse to drop them and used me to do it, but he wouldn’t admit that now. That’s intimate pillow talk kind of stuff.

So, I think I had more than enough valid reasons to think he would hit me. To think that all I would have to do is challenge him, his existence, his comfortable little bubble he makes for himself; the perception of perfection that he feeds the world. When I left with our kids, I knew. I just knew he’d never let me leave. Not without a fight. And all I’d have to do is walk out the door with my children. I never wanted them to see that. There’s no need for them to witness that. I’m glad that they didn’t. But then again, the emotional abuse is harder to prove. I have PTSD. I thought that would be enough. 

In the end, I’m still struggling with my self talk. I hear his voice a LOT. In all the crap that denies me any hope, any progress, I hear his voice telling me that I don’t have any money, that he’ll win no matter what because he has all the money, that no one likes me. Well, he won this battle.

After reading his psych eval, I’m sad for my girls that he won this battle. They’re missing out on so much love and care that they’ll never get with him, just because he’s fully incapable. And because he blatantly refuses to allow me rights to my children from the very beginning, he’s hurting them in the process. I would never deny him because they love him and need their father to be in their lives. I miss them, but I know this is temporary.

He thinks he’s driving me to suicide, but I have news for him, this is just a workout. As tenacious and resourceful as I am… It may take me 5 years, but I WILL be a consistent part of their lives. And none of this weekend mom crap. I gave him 3 days a week with mutual decision making, he wins custody and gives me 4 days a month with no rights whatsoever. Fun stuff!


2 thoughts on “This will be a book one day

  1. I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately, i always think if you’re thinking of someone a lot its for a reason. I’m sorry you had/have to go through this all. I wish i could help!

    1. Oh my, I haven’t seen you online in awhile. Where have you been hiding yourself (knowing full well I’m not where I used to be)? You CAN help. You can just be supportive and pop in and say hi every so often. I have a couple facebook pages and groups I manage. I’m always there helping someone, posting articles or just loitering in general. If you’re on there and want to see all that I’ve been up to, I can add you. It’s good to see you again. Figuratively obviously. haha. Keep in touch. :)

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