Rape is a form of abuse.

My blog is predominantly about rape, but I plan on talking about other forms of abuse as well.

Myth: The primary motive for rape is impulsive sexual desire. Fact: Studies show that the major motive for rape is power, not sex. 

This is true of all abuse and important to think about because all abuse comes from that same mindset whether it is emotional, psychological, physical, or sexual.

People can have a pretty narrow definition of abuse, but according to Wikipedia; “Abuse is the improper usage or treatment of an entity, often to unfairly or improperly gain benefit.” So, right there in the definition we can see that abuse isn’t just limited to the physical. There are so many people who think that’s all it is. Lundy Bancroft (I know I know, I am such a fangirl) says, “The defining point of abuse is when the man starts to exercise power over the woman in a way that causes harm to her and privileged status for him.”

This is probably a good place to talk about gender.

I tend to refer to victims as “she” and abusers as “he”. I am aware of the fact that men are sometimes victims of both rape and other forms of abuse. Statistically speaking, they are rare though. 82% of all juvenile rape victims are female. 90% of adult rape victims are female. For domestic abuse, a 1995-1996 study conducted in the 50 States and the District of Columbia, says that nearly 25% of women and 7.6% of men were raped and/or physically assaulted by a current or former spouse, cohabiting partner, or dating partner/acquaintance at some time in their lifetime (based on survey of 16,000 participants, equally male and female). There are some people who say that men are less likely to report these crimes, and that the numbers are off. While I can imagine that might play a factor in rape, I seriously doubt it with any other form of abuse. Lundy Bancroft makes a good point:

 “Where are the men whose partners are forcing them to have unwanted sex? Where are the men who are fleeing to shelters in fear for their lives? How about the ones who try to get to a phone to call for help, but the women block their way or cut the line? The reason we don’t generally see these men is simple: They’re rare…….Even if abused men didn’t want to come forward, they would have been discovered by now…..Among my physically abusive clients, nearly one third have been arrested as a result of a call to the police that came from someone other than the abused woman. If there were millions of cowed, trembling men out there the police would be finding them. Abusive men commonly like to play the role of victim, and most men who claim to be “battered men” are actually the perpetrators of violence, not the victims.”

I read a story on Everyday Victim Blaming (a British blog) about an abuse victim who confronted her abuser only to have him slam the door in her face. She threw a handful of gravel at the house and he called the police. So statistically speaking, that man was a victim of domestic violence while she is not.

I don’t want to hear any “Men are victims of abuse too” from anyone here. Men are victims of abuse. Period. Yes it happens. I plan on dedicating a few posts to the subject, but don’t come here and add the “too”. If you are concerned with male victims you wouldn’t wait for someone to bring up female victims before you mention them.

If you are a male victim of rape or any kind of abuse, services for male victims do exist. Most federal funding sources require that domestic violence services be provided to all victims of abuse. Advocates can provide information, assist with safety planning, and/or find local resources, if available. They can also help brainstorm alternative options if local programs are not meeting the requirements for male victims, including who a caller may be able to contact if they believe they have experienced discrimination.

No matter what your situation you can call the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 800-799-SAFE (7233), 800-787-3224 (TTY).

A Few Other Resources for Men:

• Male Survivor provides resources to male survivors of sexual trauma
• Safe Place in Austin, TX provides services and shelter for male victims of sexual assault and domestic violence. We can help you locate shelters in your area, where available.
• Center Against Domestic Violence, based in New York City, offers information and support for male victims
• Helpguide.org: Help for Abused Men
• Lambda’s Anti-Violence Project provides support and resources to LGBTQ victims of violence

Female victims can also call the National Domestic Violence Hotline and here are a few other resources for them:

• National Sexual Assault Hotline: National hotline, operated by RAINN, that serves people affected by sexual violence. It automatically routes the caller to their nearest sexual assault service provider. You can also search your local center here. Hotline: 800.656.HOPE
•     National Sexual Violence Resource Center: This site offers a wide variety of information relating to sexual violence including a large legal resource library.
• National Organization for Victim Assistance: Founded in 1975, NOVA is the oldest national victim assistance organization of its type in the United States as the recognized leader in this noble cause.
•   National Online Resource Center on Violence Against Women: VAWnet, a project of the National Resource Center on Domestic Violence hosts a resource library home of thousands of materials on violence against women and related issues, with particular attention to its intersections with various forms of oppression.

Pedestals can be dangerous. People tend to fall off of them.

My last post described how I fell in love with my first husband. This post will describe how I fell out of love with him.

A man with any power over Zac was my favorite kind of man, and this man was making a conscious decision to be on my side. He ignored Zac and his parents saying things about me like that I was a slut and a thief and didn't shower.

I told him what Zac did to me. He was immature. My first clue to that should have been his desire to date someone nine years younger than himself. At the time, I thought I was so mature that it didn't matter, but now I know it was a combination of my maturity and his immaturity that put us on equal footing. When I told him about Zac, he was in shock. He didn't say anything really wrong, but he didn't say anything right either.

He told me that Zac wasn't even really his best friend. Zac was just this guy who wouldn't stop calling until he'd come over and hang out with him. I could relate to that. That made perfect sense to me. I knew from experience that that was Zac's M.O. Then he told me he was hanging out with Zac that night. I said I didn't want to influence his decision on whether or not to hang out with Zac, but that was a lie. I should have put an end to things the instant he told me he was still going over there that night, but I wasn't going to give up so easily on this man who I decided was to be my savior.

I called my first husband (then boyfriend) later that night, hoping to ease the conversation back to Zac and hear that he had realized it wasn't ok for him to continue their friendship. He was still at Zac's when I called and so I immediately said I would let him go and asked him to call me when he got home. After we hung up, apparently Zac got weird. He asked his best friend who he loved more, me or Zac. When my boyfriend answered that it was me, Zac went from weird to crazy. He jumped my boyfriend and repeatedly slammed his head into a coffee table. One of my other cousins was there and he described the brutality to me. He said that he let it go for a minute, thinking my boyfriend would fight back, but when that didn't happen he grabbed Zac and dragged him off my boyfriend, who immediately left.

That beating became his reason for not wanting to hang out with Zac anymore. It was completely unsatisfying to me and I was hurt that his reasons were about himself and not me. After a few months, when his anger about the beating had died down, Zac struck. While I was at work, he contacted my boyfriend to apologize. My boyfriend then brought me up and what had happened. Zac stated that was an in-person conversation and they decided to meet at mine and my boyfriend's favorite restaurant for dinner. I knew nothing of this until I called my boyfriend on my way home after work. I had thought it was finally over, but here they were, having dinner together...in our restaurant of all places. My boyfriend suggested it.

He told me it was no big deal, they talked about it over dinner and a pitcher of beer. "Who paid for the beer?" I asked angrily. There was no good answer to this, both options were equally disgusting. "I can't believe you went out with him, to OUR place, and let him buy you beer!" I was outraged. "And you discussed him abusing me like it was dinner conversation....without my knowledge!" I couldn't go to him after hearing that. Instead, I went to my friend Thomas' place. He had an open door policy and bunk beds, but most importantly, he was the one person who had saved me from Zac before and I would feel safe with him.

Why didn't I try to date Thomas instead? He was my friend. My only male friend I hadn't had sex with. That was special. That was sacred to me. He was already filling a much more important role in my life than boyfriend. Thomas was supportive that night without asking me any questions. When I started angrily texting my boyfriend, he urged me to turn off my phone and sleep on it, so I did.

The next day, I was in a slightly more rational frame of mind to talk to my boyfriend and I told him on no uncertain terms that I could not handle him being friends with Zac. No texting, no calling, no dinners, no hanging out of any kind. He agreed to those terms, but it was still incredibly hurtful that I was the one who had to set them. However, now that Zac knew my boyfriend knew, he was too scared to try anything with me and I was safe. That trumped my hurt feelings easily back then. Back then I was much more afraid than angry. Now, I am too angry to be afraid anymore.

My boyfriend had asked me to marry him before that infamous dinner with Zac and that seemed like a nice permanent way to keep safe and I did really love him. We were living with his sister at the time and she was very happy for us. I liked her a lot. When I didn't come home that night and went to Thomas' instead, I felt like I owed her an explanation. She was a social worker so, though I was nervous, I wasn't as nervous to tell her as I was to tell others. I told her my story, or at least the highlights. Her immediate reaction was, "What is wrong with your family?" If someone tells you their cousin molested them, please show them your love BEFORE you go on the attack. They are vulnerable and scared and they need immediate reassurance. I explained to her that most of them didn't know. She then lectured me on how I shouldn't get married to her brother, because I was too much of a mess. I'm not saying she was wrong, but the way she went about it was extremely rough and unsympathetic. We had gone on a walk for our little talk and when we got back she immediately wanted to talk to both of us in her living room. She criticized me harshly for not coming home that night and for going to another man's apartment. She said I needed professional help and that I shouldn't be marrying anyone until I got it. The first part was complete BS. She didn't' know anything about my friends, but if she did, she would know that not only was Thomas' the only place I felt was safe for me, it was also the only place I felt safe for the possibility of continuing my relationship with her brother. All of my female friends would have had the reaction of begging for details and then trying to get me laid by a "better" guy. She was right about the second part though, and I thought getting help was a good idea. My fiance disagreed. He went on and on about how I didn't need a psychologist or psychiatrist and that they were all quacks.

The next morning, I could hear her downstairs making fun of her brother for not knowing the difference between psychiatry and psychology. Her attitude throughout this ordeal had been less than encouraging and I was annoyed with her lack of empathy and class. I went downstairs and told her that it was a common mistake and that I didn't think it was right for her to make fun of him like that. She responded by kicking me out of her house....full blown, throwing my stuff out on her porch craziness.

So my fiance and I got an apartment together. We fought about Zac occasionally because I had PTSD and he thought I should just "get over it". It was 13 years of my life and had only stopped occurring less than one year ago...but I should just get over it. After one year, or ten, or a hundred, never tell a rape victim to just get over it. Never tell anyone who has experienced tragedy of that magnitude to get over it.

My uncle invited us to his wedding reception and of course, Zac was there with his flavor of the month. I avoided them, and everything was going alright until she came over to me. She started spouting off what a "good person" he was and how it was wrong of me to hate him for "no reason". I responded that I did not think he was a good person and I was free to hate anyone I liked. She turned to my fiance and said, "HE knows Zac is a good person." I waited, but he said nothing. I couldn't believe his silence. "Did you know Zac repeatedly bashed his head into a coffee table and that is why he isn't speaking to him?" It was a half truth, and all I felt comfortable disclosing when I had no back up. She looked shocked and said she didn't know that, but Zac was still a good person.

I ran.

I ran and sobbed and had no idea what to do. I didn't want to be anywhere near my fiance who had refused to even say that he didn't think Zac was a good person, so I wasn't going home with him, but there were guests everywhere. Someone got me inside the house in a room and several of my aunts sat with me. Some of them knew, but not all of them. One who didn't gave me some very good advice. "Decide if this is something you can live with before you marry him, because it won't change."

This past year was the first year I hadn't been raped. Being with my fiance was keeping me from being raped. If I had to be alone in my pain, at least I was physically safe. I decided I could live with that. I would have decided differently today.

I apologized to my uncle for "ruing his wedding reception" and he replied that he knew it was a possibility when he chose to invite us both. Since he knew what Zac had done, I wanted to ask him why he invited Zac at all...why would he want such a monster there for his special day, especially knowing there was a possibility that he could trigger me, or even maybe get me alone to hurt me again, but I was too scared of his answer. If he ever does want to answer me on that, I'm not scared anymore, but that's because I know the answer now. I figured it out on my own because there is only one answer. It just didn't seem as important as not offending Zac. My safety wasn't as important as offending Zac and his parents by not inviting him. It might not have been important because he didn't understand, but he's a smart man, so I think it's more likely that he was too cowardly to bother to understand.


After that, my fiance admitted that he did think the rapes were partially my fault and he wasn't going to cause a scene for me. He reiterated his promise never to speak to Zac again and I let it be. For years that's how it was and that was enough for me. Then one of my aunt's died.

One of her sons asked me if I would be willing to forgive Zac for family unity. It had been three years at this point, three years of seeing him at family gatherings and no rapes. I said I would, for my cousin who needed his family and my husband was very happy with my decision. The whole group headed over to Zac's parents house for family solace, but not many stayed long, and those who did went to bed quickly. Soon it was only me, my husband, one of my cousins, and Zac.

Zac finally approached me and asked if we could speak privately. We went out to the garage and he started to talk about his attraction to me. I tried to be nice and understanding and supportive, but before he got around to actually apologizing he ordered me to show him my tits. Shocked I emphatically said "NO!" He tried to get me to again and I left the garage. I was in shock that what I thought was going to be an apology had just been another attempt at rape. I sat down on the couch next to my husband, numb and clearly upset. My husband didn't notice, and he got up, left me, and went out on the back deck with Zac who had gestured for him to follow. They smoked their cigarettes and talked while I sat dumbfounded on the couch. My cousin noticed my state and asked me what was going on. I blurted out what had happened and he too was completely shocked.

When my husband and Zac came back in, Zac headed straight for the garage and my husband sat down next to me. "Zac wants to talk to you some more." he told me. "I don't want to talk to him." I whispered back. He got annoyed, "Why are you doing this? You promised to forgive him! Just go talk to him!" I shook my head and stayed put, reeling from his anger and his complete lack of awareness. Then he said something that made me snap. "He wants you to get him a drink too." All rational thought left my brain and I stood up. "Fine! Fine! I will go get him a drink and I will go be alone with him in that garage and I will let him do whatever he wants just like always!" I grabbed a beer from the fridge and caught my cousin's eye as I started to head out. He shook his head, his eyes clearly saying WTF are you doing? and I glanced back at my husband who looked nonplussed.

I had barely handed Zac his drink when my cousin came after me and put his body in between the two of us. "If you touch her I will kill you" he said. I pulled him back and my sanity returned "No, I don't want any fighting, I want to leave, we are leaving." My confused husband said ok and headed out the door. Zac grabbed me and told me to call him. I replied that I didn't have his number. I meant to sound scornful, but I must have just sounded afraid because he followed that up with "find me on facebook." I found him on facebook alright. I found him blocked him.

As we were driving home I filled my husband in on what had happened. He pulled into a parking lot to turn around, saying he was going back. I jumped out of the moving vehicle screaming. "No! No! You will not take me back there!" Only after he promised to take me home, did I get back into the car. The idea of this person, who had done the exact opposite of keep me safe taking me back there....it was terrifying. I said I wanted to go out with my cousin who had protected me. He was at some 24 hour diner and I wanted to be with him right then. My husband told me that if I left we would get a divorce. He also said that if I didn't stop talking about it to him we would get a divorce.

Gone were the feelings of safety that my husband had produced, gone was my respect for him as a "good man"...and at Christmas that year...he didn't talk to Zac, but he did shake his hand. I'll never forget how I felt as I watched him do that. Gone was my love for him.

The Screaming Meanie

People used to call my mom that. From what I have heard she would throw tantrums where she would lie on her back kicking and screaming yelling, "get away from me!!!" and then "come back!!" That's kind of how I feel.

I went a little crazy on facebook. I was so angry and hurt because all these wonderful people, some of whom I barely knew (or in the case of the pages of my friends who shared my blog - I didn't know at all), were offering me so much love and support for speaking out while my family remained silent. Whenever I tell anyone now-a-days, they always ask me why my family continued to associate with him for all these years. I never have an answer. I know some of them don't want to turn their back on family, but that feels like turning their back on me and who would want to consider such a monster a part of their family? And why did it only stop when I started taking a stand? Why were there years of Christmases after they knew with him there? Why did they beg me to stay when I told them I wanted to leave before he got there? I want them to answer this. It doesn't matter if I said I was ok, it should not have been ok with them.

 Finally, an aunt of mine broke the ice and very bravely commented on my outrage post. She didn't say it outright, but she was hurt. I hadn't really considered her fully part of my anger until she, like the rest of them didn't comment on my blog for support. People who hadn't known until they read the post were immediately giving me support and people who had known for 10-12 years were saying nothing. I thought that because she was across the country and didn't have any event to invite him to that her being friends with him on Facebook and not telling him directly that what he did was wrong meant that she didn't care enough to fight for me. I was hurt. I wish I hadn't hurt her though.

Then she told me things I hadn't known, like that she was only friends with him to make sure he wasn't talking about me. (I guess if Zac is reading this the cat is out of the bag, but that's ok with me) I didn't know what to say about that. I didn't really want to spy on him. What he says doesn't matter to me...but I do want to know if anyone else in my life is agreeing with him. I do want to spy on them....but I think the easier thing to do, is to just make people choose and stay away from those who still choose to associate with him, even on facebook.

She told me other things too, like that she anonymously reported him. I'm not surprised that it wasn't followed up on appropriately by the authorities...rape isn't taken nearly seriously enough.

I did tell people not to do anything, not to report it, not to tell. I begged them actually. I was 18 and 19 when I was telling people and it had only just ended the winter/spring before I was 19 (my birthday is in Aug). I was too messed up to understand what I was costing myself and others by not even trying to get him on a sex offender list. I was too scared of what might happen and I don't really have a lot of trust or faith in authority figures. We had a neighbor in our apartment complex whose girlfriend called the cops because he was suicidal. They shot his dog. I was like, "well if he wasn't suicidal before...." Now I didn't have a dog to shoot, and I wasn't suicidal, but the unpredictability of it terrified me. I had no idea what would happen. Would they be the types of cops who listened and cared or the type who wore the badge just to get the authority and the gun? Those cops would relate to my rapist more than me. Would they just shrug and tell me this was a "he said she said" case and there was nothing they could do? Or would there be a huge trial where I would have to stand up and tell everyone what happened? Admit to everyone that I said it was ok? That I didn't fight? That even though I said no, I still ended up giving in so I had let it all happen? And even worse, that it had started to be ok, that it really was just "whatever"? The very last time he had sex with me he had pulled out and came in my pants. He patted my butt then laughed and said that was too mean, he would get me some paper towels. I was so numb I had no idea that it even was mean. It was all just "whatever". If forcing me to have sex with him wasn't mean, why was it mean to cum in my pants? I needed someone to know everything I said and did and tell me none of it was my fault, but I was too scared to give a voice to that...too ashamed that they might say the opposite because I thought the opposite. In my mind, I let it all happen, and if everyone knew all the details, they might think that too.

I was dating my first husband at the time and here's where I need to take a step back. My first husband was Zac's best friend that I mentioned in the Party post. I'll give you a second to let that sink in....he was Zac's best friend. At the party, he had thought I was hitting on him because I drunkenly told him 5 or 6 times how great his hair looked since he had cut it short and gotten rid of the Jesus look. An understandable misunderstanding if there ever was one. He told one of my cousins, or they caught him looking at me and teased him, something like that....and my cousin told me on a night of another party where I was going to see him again. The spider monkey who had been impressed with Zac's tipping was out of my life and I had a sudden inspiration. This was Zac's best friend whom he loved...the only person Zac loved, many said. The moral compass who could influence Zac to make him less evil. Zac would not want this best friend of his to find out what he was doing to me. If this best friend of his loved me, he would protect me better than anyone else!

We met him at the bowling alley and he was standing in line to pay for everyone's rentals while they hung out and drank beer at a table. If I knew now what I knew then, I would have seen that they had confused goodness and being a pushover. I didn't know, and I confused the two myself. I offered to wait with him and we talked a little. He was really nice. He was nine years older than me so he seemed so different from nice guys in high school...he wasn't afraid to talk to me and seemed so smart and witty. I started to feel guilty. He was a really nice guy and I couldn't just use him....but then he started to win at bowling and it was PISSING. ZAC. OFF. Every time he bowled a strike, Zac got madder and madder and it was intoxicating! I felt so much love and lust for this person who was making Zac feel powerless and small. I wanted him. From my first husband's perspective, here was that hot chick from the party who seemed to like him and practically radiated every time he made a strike. Poor guy. He told me that he couldn't help falling in love with those smiles and with all the emotions that were behind him, I can't blame him.

After he kicked Zac's butt at bowling, the guys all decided the next stop was a strip club. My cousin who had given me a ride wasn't interested though and said he was going home. This was my chance. I turned to Zac's best friend and asked if he would give me a ride. He said sure and Zac was livid. "She voted for Bush, you know!" His best friend shrugged and grinned and went to return his shoes and I felt elated. (Also, if I knew then what I knew now, I would have known what a big deal that was...I am so ashamed of my fundamentalist christian vote.) I had to stay with this man with this power to hurt Zac. I should have stayed with him right then because before I turned away Zac grabbed me. "I will let you go and I will pay your forty dollar entry fee (I was under 21) if you have sex with me tonight."

As I saw things, Zac was offering to sell me his best friend for one last time. I wish I had seen what Zac saw though, which was that he was going to lose his best friend either way and this was his last chance.

Why didn't I just go home afterwards? Why didn't I break that agreement? Because if I did, I thought Zac would have talked his best friend out of liking me. I thought he would say horrible things about me and tell him what a slut I was and that this nice guy would run screaming for the hills. I was wrong. Agreement or not, Zac and his parents said all those things to my first husband anyway and he simply ignored them.

Neutrality

For the most part my family has chosen to remain "neutral" when it comes to me and my rapist. They like to tell me how little they hang out with him, like that should be praise worthy. "Oh well I almost never see him"...except for when I invite him to parties, or over for drinks, or to go golfing. "I pretty much never talk to him"...except when I like his posts on facebook and perform his wedding ceremony. "Obviously, I am on your side"...no you aren't. If it was abhorrent to you, you wouldn't want anything to do with him. Period. The worst is, "We didn't choose sides"...then why was he the best man at your wedding?

He thinks he had the right to do what he did and by not telling him he didn't and acting like nothing happened you are agreeing with him.

Silence DOES encourage him. It makes him feel safe and accepted. Telling me that he is getting better because he has a job and stopped drinking isn't comforting. He has done those things before...plus it just sounds like you are supporting him. The funny thing is, the best way to support him is to hold him accounbtable. Abusers will not change as long as they can get away with it. Turning your back on him and withdrawing your support is letting him know he can't get away with it. Only then can an abuser realize they need to take responsibility for their actions if they want to get better.


Here is how you know an abuser is getting better:
(Thanks again Lundy Bancroft - that man is one of my heroes)

1. Admit fully to his history of psychological, sexual, and physical abusiveness toward any current or past partners whom he abused. Denial and minimizing need to stop, including discrediting your memory of what happened. He can’t change if he is continuing to cover-up, to others or to himself, important parts of what he has done.

2. Acknowledge that the abuse was wrong, unconditionally. he needs to identify the justifications he has tended to use, including the various ways that he may have blamed you, and to talk in detail about why his behaviors were unacceptable without slipping back into defending them.

3. Acknowledge that his behavior was a choice, not a loss of control. For example, he needs to recognize that there is a moment during each incident at which he gives himself permission to become abuisive and that he chooses how far to let himself go.

4. Recognize the effects his abuse has had on you on your children, and show empathy for those. He needs to talk in detail about the short-and-long term impact that his abuse has had, including fear, loss of trust, anger, and loss of freedom and other rights. And he needs to do this without reverting to feeling sorry for himself or talking about how hard the experience has been for him.

5. Identify in detail his pattern of controlling behaviors and entitled attitudes. He needs to speak is detail about the day-to-day tactics of abuse he has used. Equally important, he must be able to identify his underlying beliefs and values that have driven those behaviors, such as considering himself entitled to constant attention, looking down on you as inferior, or believing that men aren’t responsible for their actions if “provoked” by a partner.

6. Develop respectful behaviors and attitudes to replace the abusive ones he is stopping. You can look for examples such as improving how well he listens to you during conflicts and at other times, carrying his weight of household responsibilities and child care, and supporting your independence. He has to demonstrate that he has to come to accept the fact that you have rights and that they are equal to his.

7. Reevaluate his distorted image of you, replacing it with a more positive and empathetic view. He has to recognize that he has had mental habits of focusing on and exaggerating his grievances against you and his perceptions of your weaknesses and to begin instead to compliment you and pay attention to strengths and abilities.

8. Make amends for the damage he has done. He has to develop a sense that he has a debt to you and to your children as a result of his abusiveness. He can start to make up somewhat for his actions by being consistently kind and supportive, putting his own needs on the back burner for a couple of years, talking with people whom he has mislead in regard to the abuse and admitting to them that he lied, paying for objects that he has damaged, and many other steps related to cleaning up the emotional and literal messes that his behaviors have caused. (At the same time, he needs to accept that he may never be able to fully compensate you.)

9. Accept the consequences of his actions. He should stop whining about, or blaming you for, problems that are the result of his abuse, such as your loss of desire to be sexual with him, the children’s tendency to prefer you, or the fact that he is on probation.

10. Commit to not repeating his abusive behaviors and honor that commitment. He should not place any conditions on his his improvement, such as saying that he won’t call you names as long as you don’t raise your voice to him. If he does backslide, he cannot justify his abusive behaviors by saying, “But I’ve done great for five months; you can’t expect me to be perfect,” as if a good period earned him chips to spend on occasional abuse.

11. Accept the need to give up his privileges and do so. This means saying good-bye to double standards. to flirting with other women, to taking off with his friends all week-end while you look after the children, and to being allowed to express anger while you are not.

12. Accept that overcoming abusiveness is likely to be a life long process. He at no time can claim that his work is done by saying to you, “I’ve changed but you haven’t,”  or complain that he is sick of hearing about the abuse and control and that “it’s time to get past all that.” He needs to come to terms with the fact that he will probably need to be working on his issues for good and that you may feel the effects of what he has done for many years.

13. Be willing to be accountable for his actions, both past and future. His attitude that he is above reproach has to be replaced by willingness to accept feedback and criticism, to be honest about any backsliding, and to be answerable for what he does and how it affects you and your children.

 Obviously, these were directed towards the partners of abusers...but you should be able to get the gist.

A very wise friend of mine put it perfectly, "If Zac was actively showing remorse, seeking amends, going to abuse therapy, giving himself boundaries around children, conceding his right to family events so that you could go and not be triggered, showing true humility etc etc etc...then I could understand them being supportive of that while still giving you priority...I could understand that."

But he isn't. If you try to talk to him about it and he clams up and you think he is about to punch you...then he's not even on the road to recovery yet....and by supporting his lack of recovery, you are supporting him not even bothering to try....at the expense of me...the victim...whom you say you love.

An Emotional Volcano

For years, my emotions have been like a silent, simmering, volcano with all the feelings of sadness, depression, grief, betrayal, pain, and victim-hood all just churning around together. Add a touch of anger, and my volcano exploded, covering everyone in my path with hot molten lava. We have been taught by society that it is "not nice" to express your anger. People won't like you if you express anger.

Sometimes that is true. I am finally purging and it is like a volcano has erupted and is destroying everything I knew. I am alienating people left and right, destroying our relationships….but I have hope…New things will grow, they already are with all the love and support and the wonderful people who humble me by telling me how I have inspired them in their own struggles.

I found this in an article called Life Returns to the Landscape:

After a volcanic eruption, plants re-establish themselves in stages. The plants in each stage form a community and make the environment more hospitable for other plants. Over centuries these plant communities succeed one another until a climax community is reached. The climax community may continue for a long time without striking stages until an environmental change creates opportunities for different organisms.
    
On cold lava flows, lichens are among the first pioneers. They can live without soil, clinging directly to the rocks. They begin to break the rocks down. They grow slowly, and just dry out and wait if there is no rain.
     
Meanwhile, the wind blows dust and sand into the cracks between the stones. Very slowly, tiny pockets of soil begin to form. Wind blown seeds fall into these cracks, germinate, and begin the long process of making a garden out of the volcanic wasteland.

I am growing a new garden with all of you!

The Party

This is the story I was foreshadowing when I mentioned blaming Sara for what happened because she believed me when I said I didn't care about being abused.

After graduation, I moved in with my grandparents while I went to college. They had a separate building on their property that was called the party house. It had a pool table and a bar and a lot of open space for guests. I decided, newly free of my parents, that I should have a Halloween party. I invited all my friends and my cousins. I’m not sure who invited Zac, but not many people knew at the time, and those who did had no understanding of what was going on...including me to be perfectly honest.

I did beg one of my cousins to make sure Zac brought his best friend, the one they called his moral compass. This friend was supposedly on the straight and narrow and one stand up citizen. Apparently, he was the only one who could talk Zac out of evil deeds. I had met him once before, and he did look like Jesus, so hopefully they were right. Here's the thing about guys who are on the straight and narrow though...they tend to leave parties at a responsible hour. I never thought of that.

I got wasted at this party. I was so wasted that the bartender cut me off. My friend Sara came and found me and I giggled to her that I was too drunk to drink. When she asked what I meant I explained about being cut off. She suggested she got a drink for me and we went downstairs so he wouldn't see me drinking it. I actually didn't care if I drank any more or not, but being sneaky sounded fun to my drunk self.

I couldn't walk on my own, hell I couldn't even stand on my own, but she managed to get me downstairs in one piece. She plopped me down on the floor and I nursed my drink. I was saying something about the room spinning when Zac walked in. I had managed to avoid him the whole party by being inside when he was at the bonfire and going out to the bonfire when he came inside. Now I was trapped in a room with him and Sara. I tried to get up, but I didn't make it. Almost immediately they were having sex. He was penetrating her from behind less than two feet away from my face. I started to crawl towards the door and that made him stop. He came over to me and grabbed my hair and shoved his penis down my throat. "How does Sara taste?" he teased before pulling out. I replied, "I don't like the taste of Sara." to which they both laughed.

Luckily, that's when the cavalry arrived. The door busted open to reveal my friend Thomas, with my tiny spider monkey of a boyfriend on his back. They said nothing, they just grabbed me and took off. Thomas didn't ask questions, I'm not sure how much he knew. My boyfriend knew though. He knew everything. He told me that Zac thanked him for taking me away because he certainly didn't want to have sex with his cousin in the room.

Later that night Zac tipped my bartender $60. This impressed my boyfriend so much that he then tipped $20. I saw in his eyes how cool he thought Zac was for being such a big tipper and I confronted him about it. He just shrugged and said it was really cool.

Sara and I had a huge fight after that night. Not about Zac, because being direct and honest about those feelings wasn't exactly in my wheelhouse then...but that is what the fight was really about. I "forgave" her eventually because everyone was doing it and I was the only one getting hurt and that obviously didn't matter. She finally apologized to me two years ago. I told her I had long since forgiven her, but that wasn't exactly true. I haven't really forgiven any of them.

What helps with my regrets

I am crazy for Lundy Bancroft. He is a champion for abuse victims everywhere. His book "Why Does He Do That? Inside the Minds of Angry and Controlling Men." saved my life. I read it after leaving my abusive ex, Shannon. As is often the case with leaving an abusive relationship...leaving didn't break his hold on me, but this book did. I can't recommend it enough to anyone. Whether or not you have been in an abusive relationship, you should read this book. He also has a blog called Healing and Hope. He doesn't post on it nearly often enough, but when he does, he speaks directly to my heart. What he said two years ago on there fits perfectly with my last post.

            When people picture an abusive or controlling man, they imagine him yelling, threatening, or attacking with his fists. These images do capture one aspect of the experience of a woman who has a destructive partner, but at the same time they leave so much out. 

           They particularly miss one of the most insidious forms of relationship poison, which is when the man relentlessly – but not necessarily loudly -- badgers, criticizes, pressures, and guilt-trips the woman until she gives in. This kind of vise-grip approach, where he just keeps tightening up the pressure until she can’t take it, is especially common regarding sex, but it comes about other issues as well.

            Why is this pressure so toxic? One of the key reasons is that the woman comes out blaming herself. Over and over again, women say to me, “Well, I let him get away with it,” or, “I was stupid to put up with it.” Her partner has made her feel that she made a voluntary choice, so she feels responsible for causing her own harm to herself.

            But the decision wasn’t voluntary at all. You are not making a free choice if it follows an unending barrage of verbal pushing. And this is even more true when that pushing includes insults and guilt-tripping. This style of man is sending the message that you are bad and that you are inferior if you don’t give in to his demands.

            And there usually is a threat, even if he isn’t openly saying that he is going to hurt you. He is often sending the message that he is going to be cold or mean to you for days to come if he doesn’t get his way – because that’s what he’s done in the past when you haven’t given in. Or he may get it across that he is going to cheat on you if don’t do what he is telling you to do. Threats don’t have to be overt to be powerful.

            You are not a voluntary participant when you have been bullied into doing things that you didn’t believe you should have to do. And when a man bullies you into sexual contact that you didn’t want, or into a specific sexual act that you didn’t want, that’s sexual assault not lovemaking.

Regrets

Regrets are the worst. They come from a place of self blame which is a terrible feeling for survivors of sexual assault. It is incredibly common for victims to feel shame and guilt over what has happened to them. We, as a society, tell them they should. We tell them not to dress provocatively or drink too much or in general just to be more careful. I am going to have to dedicate another post to victim blaming, because this post is about self blame. This post is going to be the most difficult for me to write. This post is going to be about what I didn't do, and how I feel that I allowed this to happen to me....It's also going to be about all the things I constantly remind myself of to try not to feel that way.

For me, it all started when I was so young that it was easy for Zac to mold and shape my psyche for easy access. He used to beat me up a lot. I was six years his junior so no one paid too much attention to him getting rid of his annoying kid cousin. One of my uncles told me he explained to Zac that he had to be more careful with me because I was a girl and one of my aunts said that I didn’t know about all the times she fought with Zac’s mother, or Grannie did, for the way Zac bullied me, and they left sooner than planned….but that’s the problem. I didn’t know. All these reprimands were behind the scenes. They never told me they sent him away. They never told me that they were on my side. All I heard was “Kids!” and “Just stay away from him.” So of course I felt that I was part of the problem to them. I thought “Well excuse me for walking through the living room, I guess it’s my fault he jumped me to give me a huge wedgie and throw me over the couch (not onto the front with the cushions, but over the back onto the floor).” I trusted them less every time I said something and got nothing but annoyance in return from them. They never stopped to make it clear that the annoyance was at him, not me. The worst was when he threw me down the stairs and my aunt told me I needed to stay away from him and stop bugging him. All my other cousins, the only other kids there, were playing with him, but I should just go be by myself so he isn’t tempted to throw me down the stairs. I think that was the last time I told on him to any of them until I was 18 and told them everyting.

Zac started molesting me slowly. He told someone later that he understood you had to do this to women…you had to train them to be comfortable with your touch like animals. He knew what he was doing. He started off by being nice to me instead of beating me up. He invited me to come with him to go put firecrackers down groundhogs holes. I was raised on a farm where groundhogs are considered a nuisance, and I knew a firecracker wasn’t likely to kill one, so I didn’t worry too much about the animals. I was just over-joyed that he invited me. It had always torn me up inside that he hated me for no reason. The prospect of that ending was extremely exciting to me. My mother was hesitant to let me go because of Zac’s violent nature, but I begged and she couldn’t resist my pleas so off we went into the woods.

It wasn’t very exciting, but it was a nice walk and I was having fun. We decided to rest on a log for a minute and he started talking about butts. Butts were a silly subject and fun to talk about for an elementary student. He started talking about all the different kinds of butts; big butts, flat buts, jiggly butts….he told me to stand up and I did. He said, “Flex your butt”, and I did. He patted it and said, “that’s a nice tight butt.” I beamed at the compliment. My pride in my butt at that moment is a huge source of shame for me. It wasn’t then though…then it was just pride and joy and a feeling of hope like Zac might actually like me after all.

The next time I saw Zac, I greeted him with a huge hug. He left his arm around me, draped over my shoulder and cupping my budding breast while he talked to another of my cousins. No one acted like this was weird and I didn’t want him to stop liking me and go back to beating me up so I decided it wasn’t weird too. He did it again while I was reading out loud to a cousin and again, no one said anything so again, I decided it must not be a big deal. There were many other times when I was in elementary school that things like this happened and eventually I didn’t have to decide anything, it was just how things were between him and me...and at least he wasn't beating me up.

In high school there was this boy who seemed to like me. He told me he liked me and invited me to his church and then suddenly lost interest and decided to chase another girl right before the big school dance. I was embarrassed and hurt and wanted to be impressive, but I was in a new school in a new town and barely knew anyone. I made the biggest mistake of my life. I invited Zac to take me to the dance. Zac was good looking for being one of the soulless, and charm radiated off him as it often does from abusive assholes. In the movies, that sort of plan would have made the other guy jealous and realize what he lost while doing no damage to me, but life isn’t the movies.

Zac wanted to know what I wanted him to do and I said I wanted him to meet the guy, shake his hand (maybe a little extra hard), be charming, and make me look like I don’t need high school boys. He asked if we would dance and I said “well it’s a dance so yeah”. He asked if he should put his arm around me which seemed harmless enough so I said ok. Then he said, to really get this guy jealous, he might have to kiss me. In my head, a little kiss to drive this jerk crazy was a price I could pay. I said, “I guess that would be ok” and it was like Christmas for Zac. He showered me with “You are so cool, this is going to be so fun, you are going to feel so much better when we put this guy in his place.”

The night of the dance Zac told me he couldn’t come because his girlfriend wouldn’t let him. I thought that was the end of it. It was a silly scheme anyway. He was a butthead for canceling the day of, but it wasn’t his fault, and I had cooled down a lot and wasn’t so determined to focus on the jerk who snubbed me. I had a good time with my friends at the dance and had completely forgotten about my conversation with Zac. He didn’t forget though…he had found his way in and wasn’t going to waste it.

The next time I saw Zac he got me alone and kissed me. I was shocked and asked what he was doing, to which he replied, “you said it was ok.” Dumbfounded, I stood still shocked as he kissed me again and started to feel my body. He kept telling me how cool I was and I kept trying to figure out how to get out of this. He was right, I had told him it was ok so this was my fault and I was terrified of him hating me again. I never forgot all the beatings and in that moment, I was that five year old girl again, scared to death of what would happen if I “bugged Zac”. Before I knew what was happening he pushed me onto my knees and shoved his penis in my mouth. He held my head tightly and moved it back and forth. I closed my eyes waiting for him to let me go. When he didn’t, I finally struggled and managed to pull away. He finished himself off as I tried to collect myself. I told him I didn’t want to do that anymore. I blamed it on a previous bad experience with someone else so as to not upset him and incur his wrath.

He started calling me all the time. I asked him to stop, but he wouldn’t. I’d hang up and he would call back with his number blocked. I turned off my cell phone and he would call the house phone so my mother would make me talk to him. I told her I didn’t want to and she told me to tell him that so he would stop calling. I tried, but he didn’t listen. He said he would just keep calling until I had phone sex with him. I made some fake noises until he was satisfied and then the calls would stop for that day....sometimes for a week or two.

One time he showed up at my work shortly before I was scheduled to leave. He told me he wanted to talk. He gave me some wine coolers in his car as a peace offering, but said I had to drink them there so my parents wouldn’t find out. I drank one to be polite. It was ingrained in me not to upset Zac. I keep repeating that because I am trying to convince myself that it is a valid excuse for not fighting him off and telling the world. I had already told one person whose response was to ask me to give him head too, and then my boyfriend who had broken up with me on the spot….plus all the times my family made me feel like his aggression towards me was somehow my fault…all those things made me afraid to tell, but I still hate myself for not telling and not fighting. I blame myself and that is why I fight so hard to convince people it wasn’t my fault. I am trying to convince myself. He did things to my body after I finished my drink and I kept saying I had to get home or my parents would worry…finally, when he was done, he let me go.

I found a new defense mechanism to protect my tattered psyche. My defense was to not care about sex. To this day, I cannot connect love and sex, they are always separate. Friends would say I was like a guy or Samantha from Sex in the City. People who weren’t my friends would say I was a slut. In order to make sex meaningless I went to great lengths. I had sex with many people I didn’t care about…pretty much anyone who asked. During sex I would just “go away”. I would detach and be elsewhere while they did what they wanted to my body. It was warped and it warped me. I can engage in sex now, and enjoy it, but it is still separate from the feelings in my heart.

I stopped hanging up on Zac and just made fake noises whenever he called to get rid of him. If I did that often enough he was less likely to randomly show up. I did everything I could think of to dissuade him in person without upsetting him. I told him I didn’t want to cheat on my new boyfriend, or that I was on my period, but nothing convinced him to stop. I told my friend Sara about it and told her I didn’t care. I told her it was “whatever”. She believed me. I believed it myself so I can’t blame her for that…but what happened because of that…I do blame her for…very much so.