Tag Archives: children

The Four-Word Phrase I No Longer Allow In My Life

As I look back at the 20 years I spent in an abusive marriage, one of the things that has bubbled up from those years is a four-word phrase that I consistently heard from some of my believing friends and church leaders and even a pastor or two.  I didn’t recognize the toxicity of those four words before, but now I have come to realize how cold, demeaning and shallow those words are.

As I tried to maneuver through my abusive “Christian” marriage, there were rare occasions when I dared to open up about the horror of my home life to people I thought I could trust, people whom I believed would take the time to hear me, acknowledge the wrong and encourage me to seek safety and peace for myself and my children.  Although I desperately hoped to receive some validation and emotional support, more often than not, the “encouragement” I received typically began with four dismissive words: “You just need to…” followed by one of these pat phrases:

…trust that God wants to heal your marriage.

…pray for your husband.

…be more loving.

…be more sexual.

…be more submissive.

…forgive him – often punctuated with the phrase “remember – seventy-times-seven.”

Then they might cast a sideways glance at me and saddle me with one more burdensome missive: “Remember:  God hates divorce.” *  And they would pat me on the shoulder and walk away, leaving me standing there feeling very much alone and wholly misunderstood.

 What those people were really saying was that my husband’s behaviors didn’t matter.  My suffering didn’t matter.  My kids didn’t matter.  I was supposed to trust that I was in God’s will, that God would surely make everything right eventually, no matter how ungodly and toxic our home was if I “just” did all the right things.

The word “just” implies that the solution is simple, something patently obvious and fail-safe.  If only…

I now believe that such tepid – but seemingly religious – reactions reflect the reality that it’s easier to put the pressure on the teachable, malleable marriage partner than to identify the potentially toxic, hostile one.  Of course, by acknowledging that there is abuse – and an abuser – any conversation about the situation may be viewed as gossip rather than compassion.  And, of course, coming alongside the one being abused might necessitate some measure of personal involvement in what is almost certainly a messy situation.  Who needs that?

No doubt, my husband understood perfectly well that the pressure was on me to “fix it,” and he liked it that way.  “You will submit to me,” served as a trump card when I dared to question his decisions or behaviors.  In this, he could rationalize anything he chose to do, because he had been ordained “head of the household.”  In fact, just a few weeks into our marriage, the man approached me in the family room and matter-of-factly stated, “Just so you know, I can treat you anyway I want, and as long as you don’t catch me in the act of adultery, there’s nothing you can do about it.”  And he walked away.

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Life on the Other Side

leap of faithJournal Entry:

March 11, 2003

 I now look at life differently.  My children are more precious to me than ever.  I love to hear them laugh and to daily tell them I love them and kiss them good-night.  Colors seem more vivid.  The breeze on my skin is fresh and invigorating.  I find myself smiling for no good or apparent reason.  It is as though I have peeled off my old life, and a brand new one is emerging.  At 43, can life really begin again?  If so, I pray that I am living proof of it.

 My emotions are all so intense — whether joy or sadness, peace or turmoil.  Everything I am feeling seems to have been impassioned by some unseen force.  What is going on?  What has happened to me?  Is this a natural phenomenon that all people experience when they have gone through a tragic divorce, or a short-term phase in life which leads only back to mediocrity?  God forbid.  Is it because my depression and fear had held me in bondage for so long that now I am finally experiencing the true range of emotions which were trapped beneath the surface?  That is exactly how it feels.  And, I fear the possibility of going back into that dreadful prison.  Even feeling the pain in its fullness far surpasses the numbness which came from locking it inside, running from it, believing I could somehow override it. 

 So, this is what life is like.  What angels long to peer into.  I’ll take it.

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Waiting At the Window

2013-05-09-17-09-51-150x150“Hope deferred makes the heart sick…” Proverbs 13:12

From a very young age, my second-born son, Brett, was positively delightful.  He had a contagious smile that could light up a room, bright, dancing eyes and a playful, charming, sensitive disposition.  That is the image of Brett I prefer to remember.

But as the years passed, and my marriage began to crumble under the weight of abuse, neglect and drug and alcohol abuse, I saw my happy, fun-loving Brett begin to withdraw.  The slow progression over time transformed Brett from his lively, fun-loving self into a young boy who was sullen and introverted.  Brett struggled in school, spent long hours alone in his room, comforted himself with junk food, or escaped the tension of our home life by immersing himself in movies and video games. Continue reading Waiting At the Window

What About The Children?

It is better to be from a broken home than to live in one.”

I wish I knew the name of the pastor I heard on the radio who offered up that stunning statement. I’ll admit my surprise knowing it was a pastor who said it. I remember smiling to  myself and exclaiming aloud, “Thank you.” For what he shared is something rarely heard.

For an abuse victim who dares to reveal to her friends and family members her inclination to leave her abuser, she often hears something quite different than what the pastor asserted. She will more likely hear, “What about the children?”

There it is: an emotional trump card, a ticking time bomb. Any convictions about escaping the emotional harm she and her children might face on a daily basis are at once upended and she finds herself catapulted into visions of an unavoidably disastrous future. Could it be that perhaps separating from the abuser will only make things worse? Is it true that a child is better off in an abusive household where both parents are present than in a broken home?

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