some folks have asked me to tell a bit more about myself for those who weren't around the forum back when I had my old website, etc. I can't dig out all the old posts and the whole story...it's too painful right now and I can't revisit it for my sanity's sake. But hopefully...eventually. I also have to still be careful because my ex is still somewhat unpredictable, and I have to guard my identity and my child's as best I can.
If this looks familiar it's because it is also on the battered lambs section of the silentlambs site. I hope the formatting works okay.
Hope that it helps somebody. I wrote this years ago now...and I will add an update to the end.
essie
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I've thought a great deal about my old life in the past 24 hours.
During the resultant anxious hours and restless night, I had so many random thoughts running through my head. I had to sit down and just let the words tumble out onto paper. This is what I wrote, without even thinking:
"broken screams
caught inside my throat
they never make it out of my mouth
as his hot breath crowds my senses
'you belong to me,' he says
sliding slimy hands over my crawling skin
get away, go away, leave me alone
but the words can't escape
because I am so numb. "
I'll start my story by saying in all honesty that ex husband never beat me. I know that I am far more fortunate than many, many others in that respect. I'll add that I do not consider myself an abuse 'victim'. I am an abuse survivor.
Physical bruises used to be my only definition of mistreatment. I believed that if I wasn't black and blue, I didn't have the right to feel or say that I was being abused. I find it interesting now to read how the dictionary defines abuse:
"a·buse
tr.v. a·bused, a·bus·ing, a·bus·es
To use wrongly or improperly; misuse: abuse alcohol; abuse a privilege.
To hurt or injure by maltreatment; ill-use.
To force sexual activity on; rape or molest.
To assail with contemptuous, coarse, or insulting words; revile.
n.
Improper use or handling; misuse: abuse of authority; drug abuse.
Physical maltreatment: spousal abuse.
Sexual abuse.
An unjust or wrongful practice: a government that commits abuses against its
citizens.
Insulting or coarse language: verbal abuse. "
I do not bear physical scars from his hands. The question of whether physical illnesses that I suffer now were brought on by years of stress (from the things he subjected me to) is still debated by my doctors. Eventually, the body pays a price for years spent living in a constant state of panic.
I was raised in "The Truth" and so had this fairy tale idea that most Witness men loved their wives "as they love themselves". Mistreating their wives was something that only "worldly" men did.
I'd told him from day one of our relationship that if I were ever with a man who hit me, I'd leave him, no second chances. I believe that my ex also feared my father, who is a man nearly equal in size and greater in strength than he. His technique was stealth; his weapons of choice were words, physical intimidation, sexual coercion and the threat of physical violence that was always there, barely beneath the surface. He started with the mental manipulation early, while we were dating. I was totally inexperienced. By that I mean that I'd been so sequestered from the opposite sex before we dated that I'd never even been kissed.
Suddenly, I found myself fighting off Mr. Busy Hands every time we were alone for a moment. I didn't feel I had the right to do anything about it, or to tell him to stop. Besides, he was a Ministerial Servant, and I was just a publisher. Surely he wouldn't do anything that wasn't okay, would he? He loved me, he wouldn't want to hurt my relationship with God, would he?
After we were married and I learned more about sex, I did some research in old Watchtower bound volumes. I read articles that had been published the year after my birth but were still being referenced as the latest material on the subject. I realized we'd 'gone too far' (by Watchtower definition) by engaging in 'petting' before marriage.
I showed my husband the article and said we needed to talk to the elders. He was enraged. He insisted that we didn't need to tell anyone, that it was 'okay'. When I finally told him that I couldn't live with my conscience and was going to talk to them, he finally acquiesced. We were privately reproved, and though our families (to this day!) had no knowledge of this, I suffered from crippling depression and extreme guilt that tormented me. I felt so dirty, guilty, unworthy that I decided I must deserve anything my husband did to me.
So, he never had to beat me to get me to submit to him, because I was a mental prisoner already. The woman that I used to be believed that her body was not her own, and 'no' was a word that you never said to your mate when he wanted his due. After all, he was my 'husbandly owner' so I had no rights. He made a point of emphasizing the 'headship' arrangement and reminding me constantly of my 'place'.
I became suicidal, depressed and started developing health problems. I nearly developed an ulcer and lost a lot of weight. My 'worldly' coworkers started bringing me homemade bakery to work and leaving it on my desk, because they worried about me. I was a living skeleton. As time went on, his physical intimidation increased. He'd pin me against the wall by my arms, throw things, block the door so I couldn't leave if he was in a rage. He always stopped just short of hitting me, but the threat of physical violence was always hanging over my head. Of course there also were always the filthy names screamed at me for any and all reasons. He called me stupid and raged over things I had no control over.
One example is that he'd rage about the cost of groceries, when he had himself made the list of what he wanted me to cook for him. If I'd bump into something and get a bruise on my arm, he'd always look at it and say, "People are going to think that I beat you." I didn't think anything of it at the time but now I realize it showed just how worried he
was about his reputation.
Later, (after my divorce) a longtime, non-JW acquaintance said to me "I always worried when I saw you apologizing to him for everything. You couldn't please him. I realized that if it was raining outside and he got wet that he'd blame it on you and you'd apologize for it."
Being verbally assaulted wasn't the thing that bothered me the most. From nearly the beginning of our marriage, he tried to coerce me into giving him oral sex. To a 'good' little JW girl who lives in mortal fear of the Great Day of Jehovah of Armies, you may as well just force her into becoming a prostitute. He badgered me, more and more angrily each time, for years. I kept refusing, citing Watchtower articles and telling him that at
one time the act had even been a disfellowshipping offense. He didn't care. I begged him to let it go, telling him that I was only trying to please Jehovah. His response was, "Jehovah wants you to please your husband. He will not punish you for it."
He began constantly starting arguments and shouting at me, and whatever he claimed the issue was at the beginning, it always came down to his frustration at not getting his way in the bedroom. Eventually my resolve crumbled, because even though I "knew" that God would condemn me to die as immoral, I had no desire to live, so it didn't matter anymore. I suffered indescribable guilt, especially when he would tell me that I "wanted it as much as he did."
I never thought that his demanding sexual acts would be considered abuse at the time, he
never beat me into unconsciousness and held me down and raped me. Again, I kept thinking that my body was not my own, that I had no right to 'deprive him' of his due.
My hands still shake when I remember the times I'd wake up with him all over me, and I feel sick to my stomach when I think back to the time when I did have to physically fight him off.
Our divorce was in process. I was already sleeping in another room of the house and had been for months. We were not living as man and wife and I had made it plain to him that I didn't want him near me. The only reason we shared the same house still was that I had nowhere to go with my baby and he refused to get out.
That night he began pawing at me, and I pushed him away. I told him no, and soon he had me pinned against the wall. He's a big man. I was afraid, I wanted him to stop but I didn't think that I could overpower him. Then all of a sudden I got really angry. I looked into his eyes and said, "You don't care that I don't want this do you?" His eyes reflected pure anger. It was clear that the only reason he wanted me was because I didn't want him. He had me by the wrists, and finally I said to him "If you do this, you will never see your child again." He thought about it a good long moment before he finally let me go. He knew that I was serious, and I guess he decided that it wasn't worth it. He let
go and stormed out of the house. I went out and got a birth control injection as soon as possible, to be sure he couldn't get me pregnant if he tried it again.
Fortunately, he didn't.
My family doesn't know any of this. They do not know of the perverted fetishes (and I'm not talking about oral sex here) that I put up for nearly seven years trying to be a 'good Christian wife', things that I will take with me to my grave.
My family and those who used to be my friends still think that I'm the 'bad' one because I 'left him' and 'left the Truth.' My sister, who is the only member of my family who knows any small bit of what I went through, is livid that I've never 'told the elders' about it. She thinks they would have disfellowshipped him and not me. She is so incredibly naive. I had no desire to add public humiliation to my lot in life, and knew that talking to
the elders wouldn't do one damn bit of good.
I had already tried talking to them about him at several points. I asked my husband to go to marriage counseling with me and he sent me instead: he said that I was crazy. My psychiatrist only knew of his control issues (not letting me have the checkbook, keeping me in the house all day with the baby while he worked/went to the bar/went out with friends, telling me how to dress, how to wear my hair, how much I should weigh) and she told me that it wasn't me who had problems. She warned me that if I allowed him to mistreat me that way that I would, eventually, lose my mind.
I made a last attempt to beg the elders to help control him. I left all sexual matters out of the discussion, and told them about the verbal abuse, etc. They told him that he should control himself. Then they told me that he was depressed and so was I and that I had to be patient with him. They read me a scripture about Job's wife, believe it or not. Then they left. And my ex only got worse.
I knew that the organization wasn't going to help me, my father in law was the PO of our congregation and therefore my ex had carte blanche to do as he pleased. I realized that it was up to me to get myself out of the situation. It wasn't easy, but I did it. If I can do it, anyone can.
Many have stories like this, most are much worse than mine. I'm speaking out now because women need to understand that abuse comes in many forms. Abuse crosses all religious and socio-economic lines. It's insidious because the abuser actually convinces the abused that they deserve what they get, otherwise they'd never put up with it.
My ex husband used to often say to me, "Do you think anyone will treat you better than I do?" Finally, the day came when I did believe it, and it did happen. I remember when I first confided to my second husband (then fiancé) about what had happened to me and why I was so untrusting of men, he said something to me that I will never forget: "In our marriage, you'll know that you always have the right to say no. My hope is that you'll feel safe and you won't ever want to."
I have always felt safe with him. It's a different world. He has never been anything but gentle, kind and loving to me, and I've never been afraid, or wanted to say no. I'm finally safe and contented and feel peaceful in my own house. Which is just the way it should be.
Sometimes I still have flashbacks and nightmares. Sometimes, I still wonder if somehow, I wasn't to blame for all or at least part of what happened. I didn't fight hard enough, I gave in, so I must have wanted it too, that the message that my ex-husband drilled into my head over and over. Once in awhile the old thought processes kick in and for a split second, I again believe the lies he told me. In that moment I doubt whether I have the right to feel he ever abused me. But then I wake up, and put my arms around my new husband and think about the way he treats me, and compare that to my old life. When I do that, there is no doubt in my mind that I was an abused wife.
If you're being abused, please, get help. You can get out. Many of us have. I'm grateful every day that I did, and that now I have a real man in my life that has helped me to begin to heal my old wounds.
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I believe it was about five years ago I wrote that. To bring up to date: I am still married to my wonderful sweetheart, who treats me like gold and is such a good Dad to my daughter. My ex is still scary. But he has drifted some from the org, and my child rarely has to go to meetings anymore.
Best of all the child has a mind that can analyze and think and see life in a way that I never had the opportunity being raised in the "Truth". The world is open to my child. that alone is worth everything I have gone through.
Now, all but three or four members of my family shun me. Relatives who didn't in the beginning do now because some were threatened with action and loss of their positions if they didn't. This has been very hard on my child who has grieved for them as if they died. I don't understand how grown adults can just cut a child out of their life, especially when that child has never been baptized or had any say in anything going on around them.
I have up times and down times. Sometimes it's harder than others; I really have been on a rough patch since my grandmother's death since she was the mother of my heart. My own mother gets crazier by the day in her frenzy of it's "just around the corner" and is very angry I have no desire to get reinstated.
I was just re-reading my original complete history, written almost seven years ago. At the end I proclaimed that I still believed in God.
I don't now, not in the "tribal father figure" type of God (thanks James Thomas for that term) and I am okay with the fact that I just don't know, cause basically nobody else really does either. it's just about what you believe in. I believe that I am meant to try to live the best life I can and reach out to others as best I can, which I do through regular volunteer work in my own way.
I have another post to add to this: a poem I worked out recently after reading a link here to a JW forum where someone posted an absolutely ghastly 'poem' supposedly a story of a JW girl who married a Worldly Man *tm* and ended up getting beat, broke and ending up with her and her baby having AIDS. I wrote my own rebuttal to it. It slaughters the language but the points are clear, I hope.
I wonder if any forum directors could tell me if there would be a problem with me posting the original "work" of poetry that inspired the reply. There is no name on it so I don't know who wrote it. But it is a sight, believe me.
Thanks for reading. The moral of my story is: If you're being abused, get out. Do it carefully, get a plan, and BE CAREFUL. Remember these two words: SAFETY FIRST. Do what you have to do to get away safely. If I can do it, anybody can.
Essie