I Didn't Know The Name For It

Recently I - like many of you - was horrified to find out that there is a website where men can go to talk about drugging and raping their wives. They help each other out, cheer each other on, and otherwise reveal themselves as quite honestly not even human. 

My heart started racing. My stomach turned before I even finished it. I knew this pattern - I had lived inside it.

At first it started small. He would bring home wine on Friday nights. We'd have a glass or two after dinner. It was a nice relaxation to look forward to. But then he would push for more. When I said I was done, he’d sigh loudly, slam his glass into the sink, ask me - again - why I had to “ruin the night.” It was easier to pour another glass than sit through what came next.

I would have done anything to keep the peace. Because if I didn't, he did things like pull our toddlers out of bed at 2 am to scream that "Mommy is being mean to Daddy so you have to play with me!" I would scoop them up, tell them it was okay, get them back under the blankets as quickly as I could. After that, I didn’t say no anymore.

Nothing I gave him, nothing I did was ever enough. 

He started pouring vodka into my morning coffee on Sundays, expecting things after breakfast. Every night he wanted to act out whatever he'd watched. He took pictures. 

So many pictures.

Then one day he let slip that the guys at work liked my photos. My heart sank as I asked what he meant, already knowing. Men who knew my face. Men I had waved to in his work parking lot.

By then, he was topping off my drinks most nights. Weekends, too. I started dumping them out when he wasn’t looking, rinsing the glass so he wouldn’t notice. Sometimes I’d take a few sips and then “fall asleep.” Other times, I did - too quickly, too completely. Those were the nights he took the most pictures. Sometimes I woke up while he was on top of me. Sometimes I didn’t. I still don’t know if it was just alcohol. I cried every day. I didn’t tell anyone.

He visited websites where people posted pictures of their partners. I never looked. I didn't want to know. I still don't want to know.

This is the same man who promised to love and protect me for the rest of my life.

We fought constantly by then. I felt like something cornered, always watching for a way out. I tried to keep the kids out of it.

They heard us anyway.

In the end, I reached out to my doctor for help. I told her everything.

I didn’t call it anything back then. I didn't have a name for it. I thought it was marriage. I thought it was my fault. I thought it was something to survive.

They're married now.




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