in your eyes

the irony of this blog is that i so rarely actually dig very far below the surface of my "public self," even though the purpose of this blog is to capture who i am. the reality is that i often speak in code to myself here. i may say something cryptic, post a bit of music lyrics or share a quote, all seemingly at random--and to add to the mystery, many times it *is* truly at random--but in the instances when the randomness is far more subtly intentional, it is apparent, to me anyway, what i'm saying to myself here, what moment or thought or emotion i am capturing for my own future benefit. (and now all those who love me best & read here will be analyzing each item they find...if they aren't already.)

more often than not, i want to share the essence of the thought without delving into *why* i felt the need to share it. i am intensely private in that way, choosing to reveal the details in my own time & way. i've been toying with this post in my draft folder for months now. reading and re-reading. tweaking here & there. on the verge of hitting that "publish" button but then, at the last moment, choosing to keep it still clutched close. because it *is* intensely personal. it is a look into the side of myself that i only allude to in passing, slipping it into conversation with vague references at best, revealed in glimpses and fragments. it is the part of me i keep tucked well out of sight.

this post started to swirl inside my mind back in October. i was flipping through my issue of Redbook when i came across a piece called "Invisible Violence," by Whitney Joiner. the blurb below the title struck & resonated deep in my gut, even as i quickly glanced at it. i stopped and read it again.

"Domestic abuse isn't only about broken limbs and bruises. Many women suffer from daily belittling, verbal assault and emotional battery that are every bit as damaging--and equally unacceptable."

i remember sitting quietly, in deep contemplation, for a long time before i continued reading. as i read the stories of these women, i was astonished by the way i felt...as if i could have been reading about myself in some sort of bizarre out-of-body-type occurrence, speaking to me and about me, simultaneously. the more i read, the more my head swirled.

"'Okay, let's list all the abuse,' Rosa said, pushing a sheet of paper toward Danielle. 'Oh, there was no abuse,' Danielle said, pushing the paper back at Rosa. 'He never yelled and screamed at you? Called you names? Disrespected you? Trivialized you? Blamed you?' Rosa continued. 'Sure," Danielle said. 'But he didn't abuse me.' 'Danielle,' Rosa said, leaning forward in her chair, 'that is abuse.'"

"Jen wasn't herself: She was very hesitant and guarded, really thinking about things before she'd say them..."

"He was yelling at me--I usually checked out when he did..."

What emotional abuse feels like
Victims often feel broken down by their abuser. You might also feel like:

• You're being treated like a child.
• You need to get permission to make even small decisions.
• You have to walk on eggshells around your partner.
• You need to hide your own feelings and opinions, knowing your partner will attack you after you express them.
• It's easier to just give in to your partner's rules and demands than to fight about them.

i just kept going back in my mind... remembering portions of my past life. i remembered sinking deeper & deeper into myself. i remembered being trivialized, being made to feel insignificant, being treated like an errant child. i remembered being chastised for becoming passionately involved with a baseball game on television or laughing too hard on the phone with a friend. i remembered being interrogated if i was ten minutes late or being told which of my friends were on the "approved list" and which were not. i remembered the steady regression from my normally quiet self into what could definitely be called "hesitant and guarded." and i recalled with absolute clarity what it felt like to check out.

i remember feeling invisible.

but what i remember most is looking in the mirror one morning & no longer recognizing myself. i felt like i was looking at someone else. or more accurately, the empty shell of a total stranger. they say the eyes are the windows to the soul and i remember mine looking vacant. just... abject indifference. i was beyond words like "hurt" or "sad," and i could not imagine how i had ever arrived in such a place.

the strange thing is that i knew what was going on but i felt like no one else would believe me because they couldn't see it. what they saw was the friend who would go out of his way to help out, the guy who doted over babies and was kind to animals. and what was i supposed to say? i felt ridiculous attempting to bring it up because all of those things they saw? are true. and furthermore, who stays in a situation like that, if it were really 'abusive'? and that's not to say that my loved ones wouldn't have been there for me. they never really had the chance because i just felt so utterly stupid even mentioning it at all. it was my own private hell.

even as i took in the words of this article, it felt foreign to say the words: emotional abuse. like the women who shared their stories, i associated abuse with physical contact. abuse happened to other people and it came with broken bones, black eyes, inexplicable bruises with crazy backstories. "sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me," right? except that harsh words that form a pattern over time become every bit as damaging, just without the visible evidence.

the article states that "...while physical and sexual abuse are crimes, most types of psychological abuse are not....With physical abuse, there are medical reports and an assault report--in essence, there's proof....Emotional abuse is more subjective." it is for this reason that it so often goes unacknowledged. and also why it feels nearly impossible for someone who is trapped in this sort of relationship to ever bring it to light. i know that some combination of hopelessness, embarrassment and my tendency to be very private certainly contributed to my prolonged stay. it wasn't until i finally spoke the words to someone that i found relief from the emotional pain i'd felt for so long that i had simply gone numb.

Deanne says: "Just verbalizing what was happening made me realize how crazy everything was. When everything stayed in my head--his actions and my feelings--I was able to rationalize it, put a spin on it. But once I described what was happening out loud, I had to be accountable for it."

as a result of saying the words out loud myself, i've since walked away from this life. i know i still bear the emotional scars from it, but even they have begun to fade as time & distance stretch between the Then and Now. i can't help wondering, though, how much sooner i might have made my exit had i read an article like this. would i have turned my head in disdain? would i have flipped right past it, in a state of denial? would my eyes have been opened to the fact that not only was this very much not ok but that i also wasn't the only one? or is it only in retrospect that i am able to see my former life for what it was...?

i can't say because i do not possess the ability to travel back in time, nor do i wish to. however, despite my inclination to maintain my privacy, i can't help but feel that i'm ready to share a little of my story, to finally publish my thoughts, especially if someone reading it might benefit in the very ways that i questioned i might have...had i just known that it really wasn't my fault or my imagination.

"Emotional abuse can take many forms: Name-calling. Telling someone she's worthless. Making 'rules' she has to follow. Throwing rageful fits and tantrums. Degrading her. Dictating how she's going to dress, or what she's going to order in a restaurant. Calling her constantly while at work or out with friends to harass her about something at home."

Jill Murray, Psy.D., says "the design of emotional and verbal abuse is to break the soul, to squash the person into the ground, to make sure she's always going to stay with you because she has nothing else."

Therapist, Beverly Engel defines it as "any kind of nonphysical attack that's designed to put someone in their place, to control them or to make them doubt themselves....A constant diet of someone being condescending and giving you the message that what you're saying is not important wears away at your self-worth and your trust in your own perceptions."

i am not so naive as to believe that people won't disagree from time to time, nor am i so jaded that i define every argument or criticism as being abusive. but i can now say, without hesitation, that a pattern of cutting someone down; stripping them of the light in their eyes; forcing them into believing that unless they fit a different mold, they will never be good enough--that is never acceptable and never needs to be tolerated. you *can* walk away and you *are* strong enough to do it and you *do* deserve so much better. no matter what you've been made to believe. and what's more, i also am strong enough now to use my own words to say "i don't like when you speak to me that way," to walk away from people who go out of their way to make me feel inferior or as if i need to be apologetic for who i know i am.

in the week or two leading up to my discovery of this article, i recall a morning that i stood in front of my bathroom mirror, getting ready for work. i was caught off guard by the sparkle in my own eyes. i felt like i was looking at a long lost friend in my own reflection. just as i had not noticed the transformation i had undergone from my former self into something resembling a barren tree in on a miserable January day, i had also missed my metamorphosis back into a living soul, until the change was so complete, it was undeniable. whatever detour my life's path had taken through the Dark & Twisty (thank you, Grey's Anatomy), i had come out the other side and was back out in the sunlight.

not a morning goes by that i don't stare at my own reflection as i get ready for the day, pausing just for the briefest moment to take inventory of my eyes. there are days that they still look a little sleepy and others when a cloud may pass through, but still they shine. more importantly, no one will be permitted to steal their light again, replacing it with a shadow of their own casting.

hello, old self. it's so good to have you back again.