Like Boiling a Frog

One of the defining pieces of any abusive relationship is control: the control the abuser wields against their chosen target. It's insidious, and often creeps into a relationship slowly, similar to the boiling-a-frog analogy. As I look back, I'm horrified at what I allowed, and how what started out as "small" grew into what it did.

Very early in my relationship with my ex, he displayed signs of jealousy and insecurity. He would get violently angry if he even thought someone was looking in my direction, to the point of confrontations almost everywhere we went. Immediately afterward, he would adopt a sad little boy persona, begging for my forgiveness and promising to change. My internal alarms at his behavior were lulled back to sleep by his cries of insecurity due to his childhood trauma. He swore he couldn't live without me, and begged me to never stop loving him. My heart broke for him, a traumatized soul seemingly crying in the corner, desperate to be loved. This combination of a cruel and heartless temper driving to control me followed by tears and desperation very quickly resulted in me going from strong and independent - a person who was about to leave him for the way he was acting - to spending all my time trying to placate him. I would act as he wanted, dress as he wanted, go where he wanted, see who he wanted -  just to avoid him getting triggered and making a scene in public because *of course* it wasn't his fault, but his childhood ... 

I know. I'm smarter than that. But it triggered my sympathy for that little boy who lived through his father moving the mistress into the house, almost emotionally destroying his mother in the process and scarring the kids for life along the way.

Hmmm. Why does that sound familiar? Anyway ...

We were invited to a wedding, and he insisted I wear no makeup and do nothing with my hair other than brush it. I'm embarrassed to say I complied, because a week earlier I had pulled my hair up and he YELLED AT ME for over an hour. He berated me for that entire hour about how I clearly wanted attention from other men, and I never did as he asked. Even writing those words I'm stunned that I didn't leave then and there but it was followed up with the scared and lonely little boy routine, with him crying that he was just terrified of losing me … and I'm apparently way too softhearted for my own good.

So I did as he asked for the wedding. And he proceeded to treat me like absolute garbage all night. I was pregnant at the time, and it was a difficult high risk pregnancy. I couldn't sit for more than 15 minutes at a time because I would be in agony from the muscles in my abdomen having basically torn apart vertically, so I relied on him to drive us places so I could lie flat. He asked me to drive home from the wedding - over an hour - so he could drink as much as he wanted. 

Do you see what happened? I complied with his ridiculous demands about my hair and makeup, and his "reward" was to go further in his mistreatment. Give an inch, take 100 miles. It's all about control. The heat got turned up in my frying pan and I didn't even notice.

I’ve edited this to add that I go further in what happens in the 100 miles that he took. Check out my next post You Didn't Imagine It for the nitty gritty of what happens when abusers use the control to turn your life into a nightmare.

So what happened ten years later? As years went on, my realization that something was terribly wrong was growing. He had to step up his antics to keep control. I started chafing against the abuse, and the fights got very bad. But he used that too. I would attempt to stand up for myself, and he would always scream the same thing: "Knock it off or I'll call all your friends and family and tell them how crazy you are. I recorded you last night while we were fighting. I'll play it for everyone. You'll lose everyone. I'm all you have!"

I believed him. So I complied. In the middle of that horrible emotional abuse, I lacked the logic to think through that threat. All I could see was his promise of turning everyone against me. One time in particular he picked up the phone and started dialing one of my closest friends, all the while threatening to tell them how crazy I was. By the time he got to the third number I was pleading with him to stop, promising to do as he asked.

I can’t believe that was me. I just can’t. I don’t know if he knew what he was doing or if he was acting out generational trauma, but there is no excuse. None. I am *NOT* to blame for my reactions to his vicious abuse of me. They will use whatever they can against you. They will turn your sympathy, your goodness, your pure heart against you, and use it to keep their hold over you.