Am I the only one who feels alone? Sometimes it feels like no one will understand my pain and frustrations. I know I am not the only single working mom with a mentally abusive ex-husband, but I don’t know anyone else in the same situation. It’s hard to share my story. It’s embarrassing and I don’t always appreciate people’s reactions. But every once in a while, I feel awful and wish I had someone to confide in.
When I first broke up with my ex, our friends and family were astonished. They pushed me to take him back, to be that beautiful family again. I tried to explain the mental games, how he made feel crazy, how he abused me. They didn’t believe such a nice guy could do anything wrong. My own friends encouraged me to return to the relationship that hurt me.
I did the only thing I could control. I built a wall and closed off everyone. I became a ghost of myself while he defiled my name on social media. It was hurtful to see him post lies about me and see others respond with comforting words about him while getting on the bandwagon of speaking ill about me. I didn’t defend myself and simply took the verbal beatings. Finally, I blocked him on all of my accounts.
An abuser hides their abusive behavior behind closed doors when they aren’t publicly shaming the victim-the real victim. An abuser claims to be the victim. It’s very confusing, I know. I was trapped in an endless cycle of feeling crazy until I finally recognized it. Everything that happened was my fault (according to him) and I believed it. It was my fault that he literally ignored me for a week at a time because I did something wrong. I think it would have helped to know I was being punished. I wasn’t aware I was a “slut” (and worse) if someone in a grocery store smiled at me and my baby when I wasn’t looking.
His cold shoulder stung. He just stopped talking to me. He didn’t answer calls or texts when I was at work. He didn’t look at me. He didn’t kiss me hello or goodbye. If he was sitting on the couch when I got home from work, I would kiss his cheek and he wouldn’t move or acknowledge my presence. I was invisible for days at a time.
I don’t know how this treatment sounds to other people, but I was devastated every time it happened. I couldn’t function as a human and felt torn apart. Half the time, I couldn’t figure out what I did wrong. I was reduced to crouching at his feet, begging for him to love me again, to please just be nice to me again. I would sob uncontrollably as he turned away from me, coldly stating that crying wouldn’t work on him, and that I knew what I did. I would lose all self-worth and shriek out that I knew it was my fault, that I was sorry and to please forgive me. I didn’t know what I was apologizing for, I only knew that I wanted to exist in his eyes again.
I am ashamed for my self-deprecating behavior all those years ago. I wish I realized it wasn’t normal or healthy at the time. I don’t want the world to know about my past. I don’t read or respond to his accusations on social media because even though he repeatedly soils my name, I refuse to publicly attack him by defending myself and sharing what he has done and continues to do.
I saw a therapist once. I was told not to respond to negative behavior from him because he is looking for any attention he can get from me now. He will push my buttons any way possible to get a reaction. I think that’s true.
Years later, he is still trying to antagonize me by twisting words and outright lying. I wish that I didn’t have to coordinate our kids schedule with him. I wish I didn’t have to communicate with him at all. Every few months, he calls me names and accuses me of vile behavior in texts. If he talks to me over the phone or sees me in person, he inevitably yells at me. I know he is angry at me and I am still scared of him.
But you know what? He is nice to his friends. He is nice to his co-workers. He is nice to strangers. He is nice to everyone… except me. I feel like a target or a toilet for him to use. On social media, people congratulate him for being a great father and a good guy. He appears to be mostly nice to his kids, although I worry that he tries to make them feel sorry for him. I shouldn’t say that. But sometimes, I worry.
It’s hard to explain. I have tried to talk to others and no one truly understands. I don’t know who might be his friend, so I am afraid to make new friends. I am invisible to the world. I like being alone, but sometimes I feel alone.