I Am a Victim of Emotional Abuse
He is with her now...she is probably sitting in the same seat I occupied only a few short weeks ago. Her backpage ad for a paid lady of the evening keeps flashing through my mind. I am angry, hurt. I want to lash out but the only thing I can lash out at is the silence that surrounds me, He started texting her while I was on the truck with him...carefully shielding his phone so I couldn't see...calling her when he thought I was asleep. Stopping at rest areas to take 1 to 2 hours in the bathroom---but the phone records don't lie, he was calling her. But there have been calls and silent periods before...(all paid ladies)...the list goes on and on...and then of course there is being out of reach (phone off) for days at a time. I turned a blind eye to the truth...told myself he was just lonely on the road and occupied his time calling...because confrontation had proved to do no good. He simply denied it and turned it around that I was wrong for checking up on him. But I only checked when he began to get distant...short phone calls, days without hearing from him--and each and every time I checked there the truth was staring me in the face.And through the lies I stood strong thinking I could love away his desire for other women, but I sit here face to face with the truth.
Not sure if I can turn my head one more time. I feel like I am on an emotional roller coaster, first I am angry, hurt and seething. The next I remember a special moment or the sound of his laughter and long to hear from him to go back to that moment. And there were good times, riding across the country in his semi-truck, when he danced in the office of the Justice of the Peace that married us, kisses in the rain and when we adopted our beautiful little puppy. Then reality sets in and I begin to remember all the other moments like this. The moments of silence, the time he told me I would f*** up a wet dream, the times he ridiculed me for crying, the times when I needed him and he wasn't there either physically or emotionally. I remember the times when he did call and because he was having a bad day he accused me of not doing what he told me to do and my insistence I did as I was instructed was met with silence. How when I broach the topic of yet another indiscretion, he tells me I have accused him of so many things over the years that he isn't guilty of...such as his phone call to a young transvestite lady. Who I spoke with on the phone and she told me everything he had said, what they were planning and even sent me the letter he wrote apologizing for not telling her he was married and that I was simply for looks to the rest of the world. He reminds me all the time that he pays the bills. And for the moment he does. But he asked me to quit my job before my last little ride on the truck which lasted all of three week before he put me off, probably because it was hard for him to talk to her with me there. When I was working he went on shopping trips and I took my check (a third of his) to pay the bills and he sent so little home. Then of course there were times when he wasn't working at all and I supported us both--without complaint. At times I feel like he owes me cause I stood by him when he had nothing...and I do mean nothing. At others I feel like he is buying my continued silence.
So is it abuse? I don't know. I had a physically abusive relationship. The bruises I saw in the mirror were enough to convince me I had to leave. I survived that nightmare. But now I look in the mirror and an unbroken face and body stares back though sad eyes. I can't open up my chest to see the scars on my heart and how it withers quietly away with each new wrong. I think as I gaze at myself in the mirror that I see that myself at fault for turning my head, for pretending that nothing is wrong, for not thinking more of myself than him and walking out. Maybe my heart's demise is at my own hand.
Not sure if I can turn my head one more time. I feel like I am on an emotional roller coaster, first I am angry, hurt and seething. The next I remember a special moment or the sound of his laughter and long to hear from him to go back to that moment. And there were good times, riding across the country in his semi-truck, when he danced in the office of the Justice of the Peace that married us, kisses in the rain and when we adopted our beautiful little puppy. Then reality sets in and I begin to remember all the other moments like this. The moments of silence, the time he told me I would f*** up a wet dream, the times he ridiculed me for crying, the times when I needed him and he wasn't there either physically or emotionally. I remember the times when he did call and because he was having a bad day he accused me of not doing what he told me to do and my insistence I did as I was instructed was met with silence. How when I broach the topic of yet another indiscretion, he tells me I have accused him of so many things over the years that he isn't guilty of...such as his phone call to a young transvestite lady. Who I spoke with on the phone and she told me everything he had said, what they were planning and even sent me the letter he wrote apologizing for not telling her he was married and that I was simply for looks to the rest of the world. He reminds me all the time that he pays the bills. And for the moment he does. But he asked me to quit my job before my last little ride on the truck which lasted all of three week before he put me off, probably because it was hard for him to talk to her with me there. When I was working he went on shopping trips and I took my check (a third of his) to pay the bills and he sent so little home. Then of course there were times when he wasn't working at all and I supported us both--without complaint. At times I feel like he owes me cause I stood by him when he had nothing...and I do mean nothing. At others I feel like he is buying my continued silence.
So is it abuse? I don't know. I had a physically abusive relationship. The bruises I saw in the mirror were enough to convince me I had to leave. I survived that nightmare. But now I look in the mirror and an unbroken face and body stares back though sad eyes. I can't open up my chest to see the scars on my heart and how it withers quietly away with each new wrong. I think as I gaze at myself in the mirror that I see that myself at fault for turning my head, for pretending that nothing is wrong, for not thinking more of myself than him and walking out. Maybe my heart's demise is at my own hand.