Why I Stayed

I’ve been sitting on this blog post for months. I originally wrote it when the Ray Rice domestic abuse incident was a major topic in the news.  I added my comment to #WhyIStayed on Twitter and I was going to let it go at that. Then, I thought why was I stopping? I kept thinking, is this too much? Should I let it go for now? Did I want to put my business in the street; even though this is the topic of my book. That’s also the problem with domestic abuse. The victim keeps quiet and no one knows. Women (and some men) are getting the life beat out of them and telling no one. The blog has sat for months, but now I’m posting.

Why I Stayed. I stayed because I was ashamed. My marriage was supposed to be great; maybe not perfect, but it was supposed to be great. On the outside he treated me well. We looked good. On the inside there were little things going on that no one else knew about; and to be honest, I didn’t think it was abuse. Sure, there were red flags in the beginning, but I took them all down and hid them away.

He alienated me from my friends. Most of them he didn’t like and they didn’t like him. He lied about himself to my family and I knew it. Whenever we had a big argument he would ask me if I had told my mother about it. I told no one.

He controlled where I went because he thought that when I wasn’t with him I was with another man. The only place I really went without him was to work. If I had to travel for my job, he went with me. Or, he told me he didn’t want me to go; and I didn’t.

He didn’t want me to talk to other men. I was accused of having sex with the mailman, our next door neighbor, my son’s baseball coach. Any man I talked to or interacted with was suspect.

I tweeted that I didn’t think I was abused because he didn’t hit me. Maybe everything was leading up to that. I don’t know. Words hurt as much as fists. He got into my head. I walked on eggshells around him. Why was I wearing perfume or makeup and who was I wearing it for. Who was calling the house from an 800 number and hanging up when he answered. He would tell me he saw me places with men when I wasn’t with him. The last few years of our marriage he probably called me out of my name more than he called me by my real name.

He left and it was probably the best thing that could have happened. I can’t say why I didn’t just pick up my children and go. I didn’t know where to go. Shame stopped me from going to or telling my family. I went to visit my mother without him once before he left. I was so close to telling her, but I never got it out.

After he left I eventually picked myself up and continued my life. I had to. I had to take care of my children. Then, he got really sick. I helped him through it. Why? I was still his wife. He told me he loved me before he died. I stated in an earlier post that I still loved him. I loved who he used to be. He would never go back to that and neither would I.  I felt sorry for him. He may have had other ideas during our marriage, but I knew I had honored my vows to him.

I have moved on and I’m trying not to carry this baggage into another relationship. I’m trying to remember that not all men are close-minded and accusatory. There are some good guys.