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Throughout our time together, he was wonderful, we had some minor problems but always things we were able to work through. I went to college at 16, he was still in high school (I had combined years to graduate early, an option he didn't have)which led to the normal teenage angst of how would I get to his prom *grins*, I did and it was a magical night, and we got engaged.

When I turned 18 I moved back to Louisianna and moved in with him. Plan being I could go to college there since my residency was New Orleans. As plans go it was great, in reality? It was a disaster.

Little things started setting him off, me chatting with men on BBS', not having dinner ready on time etc. etc. Soon, he was shouting at me, then it was things being thrown at me. Everytime I had either done something'wrong' or I had not done what I should have. I started to believe he was right, I was a screwup.

One day he wouldn't get up for class and I went and grabbed ice and told him to get up or I would use it...he got up. I put the ice back and came back into the room....he was asleep again. Laughing I put my hands on him to shake him awake again...next thing I knew I was hitting a wall and my face was on fire. He had punched me and while I was reeling from that backhanded me. I slid down the wall stunned...I had always sworn NO ONE would ever lay a hand on me in anger.

I am not sure what hurt more that day, my face...or the emotional damage that had casued. He was my life, I loved him with that passion you only find in a first love...and he had hit me.

It was my fault, it had to be. He was right..I shouldn't have touched him with cold hands. I had asked for it. For 6 years it had been perfect, I was willing to do anything to get him to love me that way again. I became quiet, it took two weeks for the bruising to go away so I didn't leave the house claiming I had the flu to friends. Dinner was never late again, I didn't joke about ice, I tended to him first when the cat would scratch him (if I took care of my scared cat first...he tormented my cat and said I loved the cat more than him). My whole life revolved around not making him angry again...and when i did, it was always because my natural sarcasm came out, or because I didn't want to do what he did..numerous tiny stupid reasons that to me justified how he would react.

In the end I simply believed "I shouldn't have done...." fill in the blank ..and then he wouldn't have had to hit me.

This would be a good time to mention I had been a volunteer at a womans shelter in college, I KNEW the signs. I had spent my young adult life defending those who couldn't or wouldn't defend themselves. (I was a 'Mommy' type even then, trying to save the world)To me though, those signs couldn't fit...he loved me, he would never hurt me unless I deserved it...right?

One day he decided to bathe my cat .. a fullgrown tom who had never had a bath in his life. I said I would do it because David knew my cat hated him...he insisted and went into the bathroom.

I won't go into details, but he hurt my cat horribly (Einstein did recover and had a new home with friends of mine) because it scratched the everliving shit out of him.

This was my wakeup call. I could defend myself if I had to..my cat only had his teeth and claws, which are not much use against a full grown man. So I told David he had choices, he could go to counseling and tell them everything, if they said nothing was wrong...I would stay, if he went and they said he needed to come back and he did, I would stay..if he didn't go I was leaving. Notice...this was honor system, he refused. I left. I did not get counseling, I felt I was more than capable of dealing with it on my own..I didn't tell my friends, I had no idea how they would react since my family treated me as if it was my fault.

He saw me on a BBS 6 months later and asked if he could call me, I was at a friends and they said sure. The phone call went ok, he asked me to come back..I said no. When I hung up the phone I looked around, there were 8 of us there, 2 girls including me and 6 very, very big guys. Everyone was staring at me as if they wanted to beat my ass into the floor. One of them looked at me, came over and I cringed back in my chair not knowing what to do. He cupped my chin and madfe me look at him and said "You are still afraid of him and you are a thousand miles away...what did he do to you?" I started crying. I do not know who was more upset that day, me at realizing I needed help, or my friends when they heard the story. I do know that David was a lucky man to be so far away.

5 years later he called me (he had called regularly over those years to say he had changed and it was always bullshit...for heavens sake we had the same friends..I heard the stories) he said he had gotten counseling finally and had changed. He actually had this time, every one of our mutual friends couldn't believe the changes in him. He asked me to come back and again I told him no. He asked me why? Didn't I love him? Of course I did..so much, he was my first love....but I knew if I went back, every day for the rest of my life I would wonder if today was the day it would all change again...and he would know I was wondering. Not fair to him, not fair to me.

I am not telling this story because I want pity. I grew, I learned, I healed. I became a better counselor for abused women because I GOT it. I knew where they were comming from. I recognize the signs now, I have helped many women, and they have helped me. I simply felt that maybe with all the posts about abuse...it might help some to understand why we stay. Even the strongest (men or women) can become a victim. If it starts at small things, take notice, draw a line...realize no matter what mistake you made..it never justifies a punch or hurtful verbal attacks. There is a pattern in abusers...learn it, pay attention and always have someone you can call if you need help getting out.

In the end I simply believed "I shouldn't have done..." fill in the blank... "and then he wouldn't have had to hit me."

Walking around on eggshells...never knowing what would set him off.
It was like he would look for excuses, create situations, jump on the smallest thing, just so he could punish me, so he could take out his anger on me.
And then I would apologize to him because I made him angry enough to do the things he did. I thought it was my fault.
But when you're inside it, your perceptions are warped, you blame yourself.

That's why it's so important to tell someone. So I'll add my voice to yours. If you're in an abusive relationship, whether you're a man or woman, get help, get out, and get counseling.

I look at it this way - the abuser is going to abuse, no matter who it is they're abusing. The person being abused would not be subjected to that kind of treatment by others. Therefore the reason for the abuse lies with the abuser.

Thank you for sharing that, BT.

*hugs*
mich

Mich, Ted, Naughty *hugs to you all* I am sorry any of us had to go through this, but you are right..the situation is all too common. I was lucky, my friends made me realize I needed help..I had gotten out, but not truly gotten away until that day.

I also thank the powers that be that it was not worse than it was. More than once he stayed his hand, I am convinced he was struggling against it and just was not strong enough. Few abusers change...those that do still won't until they have lost everything they care about.

Restless, you have my untmost respect for working with abusers for as long as you must have. I personally would have smacked all of then into next month . However, not all rednecks are bad, but in recent years the term has been used to describe a particularly obnoxious type of country boy.