I ran across a book the other day written by a Palestinian physician who suffered catastrophic loss in 2009 when two shells from an Israeli tanker exploded in the room next to him, killing three of his daughters and a niece. Even though he is angry, he strives to act as a righteous man, demonstrating that feeling angry is not the same as hate. His book is entitled, I Shall Not Hate.
That moving declaration reminded me of an experience of my own, many years ago. The circumstances were far less horrendous, but the lesson remains the same. “I will not hate.”
While our baby daughter and I were happily bonding, her father was removing himself farther and farther away. He was absent, even when he was home. We did have some happy days, but mostly he withdrew because being a husband and father was just too hard, far more demanding than the fantasy family he had envisioned in his mind. He was not a mean man—immature and self-absorbed and neglectful, but not mean. After several years, knowing my unhappiness, he asked, “Would it be easier if I left?” then admitted that he did not have the ego strength to do that. In the end, I would have to choose.
I agonized whether to go or to stay. I have long since forgotten the title and author of a book I picked up and read during that crazy-making time of decision. The author related her own experience of schizophrenia and treatment for the illness. During her lengthy hospitalization, she developed a strong romantic attachment to another patient, but the relationship ended badly when she was well enough to return home. She became very bitter and angry, blaming everyone for this lost love. I'll never forget the counsel her doctor gave to her, for it guided me through the painful days ahead of me. “You must learn to say goodbye without hating.” I was determined to do that. I. Will. Do. That. Over and over, I pledged to myself, “If I have to say goodbye, I will say it without hating.”
Of course, no marriage succeeds or fails through the actions of only one of the partners, but it was an honorable thing for this man to say to me, “I am sorry. It was my fault.” I respect that. The words are still true that I said to him before I drove away, “Thank you for the good times. Because there were some good times.” I kept the promise I had made to myself: I said goodbye without hating.
Feelings come and go. Anger cools off, disappointment fades, desire burns low—unless we decide to nurture them. Then love becomes a choice, and hate becomes an act of the will. That is why the doctor-author can affirm, “I shall not hate.” That is why, during the times in my life when I have had to say a goodbye, God has helped me to say it without hating.
Marjorie
Showing posts with label anger. Show all posts
Showing posts with label anger. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Always Angry
Some people are always, always angry. Have you noticed? Have you wondered why? I have. I am not an expert in such things, but I've made some observations.
4 Some people are angry because they assume that they were born into this world for other people to make happy. That plan inevitably fails, but instead of creating their own happy selves, they take vengeance on those who did not do it for them.
4 Some people are angry because they can't find the OFF switch. They may have suffered injustices—who has not?—and have good cause to object to the unfair treatment they've received. But their basic sense of entitlement has fueled their fury to unreasonable proportions.
4 Some people are angry because it makes them feel strong. They get a "high" from rage-fueled adrenaline that is like a powerful drug in their system—and isn't illegal.
4 Some people are angry because others around them have failed to protect them from the consequences of their misbehavior. They expect to be made happy, remember?
4 Some people are angry because they have been exposed as mean, or fearful or just plain shallow. The truth is so painful that they act out a blustery denial, believing that no one will then see the person they really are.
4 Some people are angry because they have learned to use aggressive behavior as a tool to get what they want or to avoid getting what they don't want.
Anger is a complicated emotion. Some scholarly folk say it is a basic emotion, while others say it is the secondary response to hurt, frustration, or fear. It helps me to know that the people around me who seem angry all the time are most likely not angry at me!
What observations have you made?
Marjorie
Friday, May 14, 2010
A Little Bit Mad
Carefully, carefully, I'm going to write today about staying a little bit mad. I don't want you to misunderstand me and think that I am advocating living in a state of angry agitation. By using "mad" instead of "angry," although it's non-standard English, perhaps you will better understand my intent. One can be a little bit mad, I think, and not be furious, full of rage, and—dare I say it?—without sinning. I propose that to our own advantage, sometimes we need to stay a little bit mad.
When we have been mistreated, we need at some point, to let go of the need to retaliate. That is the Christian thing to do, and the healthy thing to do. Some would teach us that when you have truly forgiven an offense, you should also forget it. You may. But again, you may not. You may stay a little bit mad.
Some experiences are not easily forgotten, and indeed should not be, for we then proceed with a sense of caution that we did not have before. Some injuries propel us into advocacy for others who suffer similar indignities. Some show us where we have allowed others to take advantage of us. Some teach us that, following great personal harm, we can regain our balance and discover, "There is life after—" whatever.
I would never recommend to you the "mad" that is constantly simmering, that keeps you fearful or self-pitying, and that disturbs the peace of God that is to rule in our hearts. But that little bit of mad can be the energy that causes you to focus on what is good and right in your relationships. Without the determination that comes with a little "mad," it is easy to avoid the growth that is needed to become a whole and healthy Christian woman.
Marjorie
When we have been mistreated, we need at some point, to let go of the need to retaliate. That is the Christian thing to do, and the healthy thing to do. Some would teach us that when you have truly forgiven an offense, you should also forget it. You may. But again, you may not. You may stay a little bit mad.
Some experiences are not easily forgotten, and indeed should not be, for we then proceed with a sense of caution that we did not have before. Some injuries propel us into advocacy for others who suffer similar indignities. Some show us where we have allowed others to take advantage of us. Some teach us that, following great personal harm, we can regain our balance and discover, "There is life after—" whatever.
I would never recommend to you the "mad" that is constantly simmering, that keeps you fearful or self-pitying, and that disturbs the peace of God that is to rule in our hearts. But that little bit of mad can be the energy that causes you to focus on what is good and right in your relationships. Without the determination that comes with a little "mad," it is easy to avoid the growth that is needed to become a whole and healthy Christian woman.
Marjorie
Friday, October 16, 2009
Acting In
Distressed individuals—adults as well as children—are sometimes said to be "acting out" when their internal conflict or painful emotions are expressed in outward behavior that is unhealthy and defensive. Their actions may even be destructive or dangerous to themselves and others. At the very least, they are irritating, but correcting the situation is not always as simple as just suggesting or demanding that the behavior stop. Most often, the impulses are not conscious
Acting out may be expressed as anger: hurting someone (or an animal), breaking things, creating a scene, taking aggressive actions like road-rage incidents, using abusive language, blaming, and seeking a way to "get even." It may also take the form of fear: helplessness, over-dependence, anxiety.
"Acting in" has the same basis. It is hard for many women to acknowledge anger and deal with it. For those of us brought up more than a generation ago, it was verboten (forbidden) just because it was unsuitable for women—especially Christian women—to "get mad." Fear was not acceptable either and "nervous" women were scorned.
But these emotions have to go somewhere. If release is not permitted in healthy outward ways—more about that later—they will get stored internally. Anger or fear turned inward on oneself can do all kinds of damage including:
- Obsessive thinking about the painful situation
- Trouble eating or sleeping
- Overeating or sleeping too much
- Depression
- Irritability, crying
- Physical illness
- Difficulty concentrating or remembering
- Inability to function
There is no one sure-fire way of dealing with the strong feelings of rage or anxiety that accompany deep conflict, but many people find that it is helpful to let the body express that emotion. One may write a letter—to be mailed or not—to the person responsible for her hurt. Or she can personalize her emotion and write a letter or speak to an empty chair what she is feeling. ("Well, Betrayal or Grief or Disaster, you found me didn't you?") You can hit a tennis ball or pound a pillow. You can express yourself in music or art. We have to find some way to calm the impulse we have to lash out at anyone or anything, or to create as much havoc as possible, or to beat up on ourselves. And don't forget, you can without embarrassment seek the help of a mental-health professional, and your medical doctor as well if things are completely out of balance.
Make a conscious effort to bring your thoughts to the positive present: "I can manage, and I will." The more that anger and fear can be expressed in structured ways, the less there will be left for acting out. Or acting in.
Marjorie
Acting out may be expressed as anger: hurting someone (or an animal), breaking things, creating a scene, taking aggressive actions like road-rage incidents, using abusive language, blaming, and seeking a way to "get even." It may also take the form of fear: helplessness, over-dependence, anxiety.
"Acting in" has the same basis. It is hard for many women to acknowledge anger and deal with it. For those of us brought up more than a generation ago, it was verboten (forbidden) just because it was unsuitable for women—especially Christian women—to "get mad." Fear was not acceptable either and "nervous" women were scorned.
But these emotions have to go somewhere. If release is not permitted in healthy outward ways—more about that later—they will get stored internally. Anger or fear turned inward on oneself can do all kinds of damage including:
- Obsessive thinking about the painful situation
- Trouble eating or sleeping
- Overeating or sleeping too much
- Depression
- Irritability, crying
- Physical illness
- Difficulty concentrating or remembering
- Inability to function
There is no one sure-fire way of dealing with the strong feelings of rage or anxiety that accompany deep conflict, but many people find that it is helpful to let the body express that emotion. One may write a letter—to be mailed or not—to the person responsible for her hurt. Or she can personalize her emotion and write a letter or speak to an empty chair what she is feeling. ("Well, Betrayal or Grief or Disaster, you found me didn't you?") You can hit a tennis ball or pound a pillow. You can express yourself in music or art. We have to find some way to calm the impulse we have to lash out at anyone or anything, or to create as much havoc as possible, or to beat up on ourselves. And don't forget, you can without embarrassment seek the help of a mental-health professional, and your medical doctor as well if things are completely out of balance.
Make a conscious effort to bring your thoughts to the positive present: "I can manage, and I will." The more that anger and fear can be expressed in structured ways, the less there will be left for acting out. Or acting in.
Marjorie
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Genny's Story - 5: "Something Was Very Wrong"
Genny has just described how her abusive home affected her physically and emotionally.
Marjorie: Did you ever wonder if perhaps Jim was mentally ill, that his anger was something he couldn't help?
Genny: There was definitely something wrong, but he avoided any kind of situation where he might be evaluated. But that he couldn't help it? No, I finally had to give that up. He was a Christian gentleman as far as the church and his few select friends could tell. He controlled his angry, scornful words and his selfish actions when he was around them. So he could have done that for me too, if that's what he had wanted to do. But at home he let "the evil twin" out. He knew how to use his anger as a tool; he could turn it on or off to get whatever it was he wanted. He told me that when he was a child or young man, he stood in front of a mirror and practiced saying vicious things, and that through the years he took satisfaction in seeing how he could wither people with his words.
M: Is it possible that he had some kind of personality disorder?
G: I'm sure that's possible, although I don't know a lot about those problems. Sometimes I wish it could have been as simple as saying, "Well, he has this" or "He is such-and-such." I have to remind myself that this is something he carefully controlled. I even told him, "You're nice to everyone but me." He just kept an expressionless mask over his face—no recognition, no denial either—like I had made some ridiculous statement that he could just ignore. I really believe he liked being angry. I think he felt powerful and in control when he was loud and mean. I read somewhere that anger can give a "high" as addictive as a drug. I think he was addicted. Once in a mellow moment, I told him, "If you could give up your inner rage, you would be a different man." "No, no," he answered, "I am a transformed man." (Meaning that because he had accepted Jesus as Savior, his old life simply didn't exist.) I am here to tell you that was not true. Being "saved" did not bring a deep life change in him.
M: So sometimes you did confront him?
G: Sort of. I'm not sure you could even call it confrontation. I walked away a few times, when he was loud and angry. I left the room or the house while he was yelling, "Don't you dare leave me!" But at that time, I didn't think of actually leaving him as an option. Later, after recognizing the extent of the abuse and deciding, "I am not going to live this way," I did have to begin facing what the next step would be. It didn't seem like an immediate decision that I needed to make in a hurry. I knew I could make it on my own, but I couldn't see myself leaving. I was still clinging to that little bit of hope that he would choose to relate to me as a loving husband.
M: What about those "sort-of" confrontations? Why weren't you more assertive in taking care of yourself in the relationship?
G: It took a very long time to sink in that all of this was not going to turn out okay. Then when I did realize it, I did not have the kind of strength and self-respect that would have been required to stop the mistreatment. I'm not sure I ever possessed that confidence, but if so, it had been beaten down and I was just numb. Had I been that stronger and wiser person, I probably wouldn't have been married to Jim at all.. He was attracted to the quiet, compliant woman I was, and might not have even liked me had I been otherwise!
There was something very wrong, that is to say unbalanced. Over and over I have said to myself, "This man, at least while I lived with him, was wicked or very, very sick." Probably some of both. He was very sick in the sense that he did not respond to life in what would be called "normal" ways. But I think he made little choices over and over again that led in the wrong, self-destructive direction—just like a diabetic may choose to disregard nutritional counsel, or a person with lung cancer continues to smoke. I believe Jim's choices shaped his body and his brain until the bent of his life was pretty nearly irreversible, and perhaps then he really couldn't any longer choose; I don't know. And I have to let God judge whether or not he was wicked. From my perspective, I will say that he did not show the spirit of Christ.
M: But God can deliver from such patterns, can't He?
G: Oh, of course! I really believe that. But it doesn't happen if a person is resisting change. Jim preferred not to submit to any of the costly or painful disciplines God might have used in his life. He just admitted that he loved pleasure and ease too much for that. God doesn't force us to undergo training. We have to present ourselves, prepared for whatever it takes to make us into His disciples.
Knowing that Jim was very wrong does not mean that I accept no responsibility. There's a difference between assuming responsibility and accepting blame. I did not cause the abuse; it was not my fault. I am able now to take responsibility for being the kind of person who could not stand up for herself and say, "This is not right." But it's still not helpful or realistic for me to examine the "Jim years" and tell myself, "Why didn't you just say . . ." "If you had just done such-and-such." If I could have said or done differently, I probably wouldn't even have been in that situation in the first place. The timid little steps I did take were all I could manage at the time.
To be continued.
Marjorie: Did you ever wonder if perhaps Jim was mentally ill, that his anger was something he couldn't help?
Genny: There was definitely something wrong, but he avoided any kind of situation where he might be evaluated. But that he couldn't help it? No, I finally had to give that up. He was a Christian gentleman as far as the church and his few select friends could tell. He controlled his angry, scornful words and his selfish actions when he was around them. So he could have done that for me too, if that's what he had wanted to do. But at home he let "the evil twin" out. He knew how to use his anger as a tool; he could turn it on or off to get whatever it was he wanted. He told me that when he was a child or young man, he stood in front of a mirror and practiced saying vicious things, and that through the years he took satisfaction in seeing how he could wither people with his words.
M: Is it possible that he had some kind of personality disorder?
G: I'm sure that's possible, although I don't know a lot about those problems. Sometimes I wish it could have been as simple as saying, "Well, he has this" or "He is such-and-such." I have to remind myself that this is something he carefully controlled. I even told him, "You're nice to everyone but me." He just kept an expressionless mask over his face—no recognition, no denial either—like I had made some ridiculous statement that he could just ignore. I really believe he liked being angry. I think he felt powerful and in control when he was loud and mean. I read somewhere that anger can give a "high" as addictive as a drug. I think he was addicted. Once in a mellow moment, I told him, "If you could give up your inner rage, you would be a different man." "No, no," he answered, "I am a transformed man." (Meaning that because he had accepted Jesus as Savior, his old life simply didn't exist.) I am here to tell you that was not true. Being "saved" did not bring a deep life change in him.
M: So sometimes you did confront him?
G: Sort of. I'm not sure you could even call it confrontation. I walked away a few times, when he was loud and angry. I left the room or the house while he was yelling, "Don't you dare leave me!" But at that time, I didn't think of actually leaving him as an option. Later, after recognizing the extent of the abuse and deciding, "I am not going to live this way," I did have to begin facing what the next step would be. It didn't seem like an immediate decision that I needed to make in a hurry. I knew I could make it on my own, but I couldn't see myself leaving. I was still clinging to that little bit of hope that he would choose to relate to me as a loving husband.
M: What about those "sort-of" confrontations? Why weren't you more assertive in taking care of yourself in the relationship?
G: It took a very long time to sink in that all of this was not going to turn out okay. Then when I did realize it, I did not have the kind of strength and self-respect that would have been required to stop the mistreatment. I'm not sure I ever possessed that confidence, but if so, it had been beaten down and I was just numb. Had I been that stronger and wiser person, I probably wouldn't have been married to Jim at all.. He was attracted to the quiet, compliant woman I was, and might not have even liked me had I been otherwise!
There was something very wrong, that is to say unbalanced. Over and over I have said to myself, "This man, at least while I lived with him, was wicked or very, very sick." Probably some of both. He was very sick in the sense that he did not respond to life in what would be called "normal" ways. But I think he made little choices over and over again that led in the wrong, self-destructive direction—just like a diabetic may choose to disregard nutritional counsel, or a person with lung cancer continues to smoke. I believe Jim's choices shaped his body and his brain until the bent of his life was pretty nearly irreversible, and perhaps then he really couldn't any longer choose; I don't know. And I have to let God judge whether or not he was wicked. From my perspective, I will say that he did not show the spirit of Christ.
M: But God can deliver from such patterns, can't He?
G: Oh, of course! I really believe that. But it doesn't happen if a person is resisting change. Jim preferred not to submit to any of the costly or painful disciplines God might have used in his life. He just admitted that he loved pleasure and ease too much for that. God doesn't force us to undergo training. We have to present ourselves, prepared for whatever it takes to make us into His disciples.
Knowing that Jim was very wrong does not mean that I accept no responsibility. There's a difference between assuming responsibility and accepting blame. I did not cause the abuse; it was not my fault. I am able now to take responsibility for being the kind of person who could not stand up for herself and say, "This is not right." But it's still not helpful or realistic for me to examine the "Jim years" and tell myself, "Why didn't you just say . . ." "If you had just done such-and-such." If I could have said or done differently, I probably wouldn't even have been in that situation in the first place. The timid little steps I did take were all I could manage at the time.
To be continued.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Genny's Story - 4: But Denial Has a Price
To read all previously published parts, click on "Genny's Story" in the labels column at the left. Note that entries appear in reverse order, the most recent on top.
Genny has described beginning to discover that she was in an abusive marriage.
Marjorie: So then what did you do with your new understanding that you were, in fact, an abused spouse?
Genny: I did not want to believe that this man I had loved for so long as a friend was a person I did not even recognize. He was small and mean. I did not want to believe that, so I can't really blame the other people whom I felt would not be able to accept the truth about my situation. But not wanting to believe something and choosing not to accept the truth when it has been made obvious is a form of deceit, isn't it? I was grievously aware of Jim's double life—one man in public, a very different man at home. That is just so wrong. But I have recently come to a stunning realization. Without meaning to, I had been pressed into a double life too. At home, "walking on eggshells," exhausted, sad. Away from home, "Fine, thanks. Just fine." Smiling. Efficient at my work. Helpful to others. All my pain bottled up inside. And that is just wrong too. It is no way to live.
M: In your place, I think I might not have been able to survive. You must have hated to be at home.
G: I loved my home. I wanted it to be the place of safety and peace that I believe homes should be. I wanted to be there—and I couldn't stand to be there. I begged Jim to give me some time just to be there alone, and he said, "Yes, yes, of course," and then reneged on his agreement. My emotional conflict took a terrible toll on me physically as well.
M: In what ways?
G: I didn't sleep much, so I was always, always exhausted. I had severe back and shoulder pain that almost nothing helped. I had stomach aches, and my colon acted up. Sometimes I was so stressed while I was eating that a bite would stick in my gullet halfway down, and I would have to stop and breathe deeply and try to relax until the pain went away.
M: Did Jim notice any of this?
G: Yes, and he usually had an answer. "You're eating too fast," or "You're working too hard," or "Have you seen your doctor about that pain?" What I have to wonder now is if the effort to keep his two lives separate affected Jim in some of the same ways. He had lots of little physical ailments, but proudly repeated over and over what a doctor had told him many years ago, that he was strong as a horse. When I told my own doctor that the marriage had ended and I was suffering some physical effects, he said, "But don't think Jim got by. He paid." I guess our bodies know—and they react—when we are not living with integrity.
There is one big difference, though, between the duplicity of Jim's life and what I was doing. Jim purposely deceived. I was compartmentalizing my life, just trying to keep my sanity. It has been helpful for me to understand how I did this, and why it was necessary.
M: And were you angry at Jim?
G: Of course! But anger is a hard emotion for me to admit I have, because of my upbringing. Probably some of the time when I was feeling overwhelming hurt, I was actually angry and it would have been healthier for me if I could have recognized that it was anger. But it took awhile for me to be able to say even to myself, "How could he have done this to me? How dared he talk this way?" It was unthinkable to me at the time to say such a thing to him. So, much, much later, at the point where I could admit I was angry, some healing took place. When I knew what to call it, after awhile I was able to give it up.
M: And were you ever angry and disappointed with God? Did you feel He had let you down or even tricked you?
G: Well yes, I raged a few times, briefly, but He was always right there when I quieted down! After one particularly devastating revelation about Jim's life, coming after he was gone, I was storming around and God said—an inner knowing in my heart—"I saw you. I was there." To me, that says I cannot expect to avoid or get out of every distressing situation, but I will never be abandoned. I really did have a place of refuge, even though it couldn't be my home.
To be continued.
Genny has described beginning to discover that she was in an abusive marriage.
Marjorie: So then what did you do with your new understanding that you were, in fact, an abused spouse?
Genny: I did not want to believe that this man I had loved for so long as a friend was a person I did not even recognize. He was small and mean. I did not want to believe that, so I can't really blame the other people whom I felt would not be able to accept the truth about my situation. But not wanting to believe something and choosing not to accept the truth when it has been made obvious is a form of deceit, isn't it? I was grievously aware of Jim's double life—one man in public, a very different man at home. That is just so wrong. But I have recently come to a stunning realization. Without meaning to, I had been pressed into a double life too. At home, "walking on eggshells," exhausted, sad. Away from home, "Fine, thanks. Just fine." Smiling. Efficient at my work. Helpful to others. All my pain bottled up inside. And that is just wrong too. It is no way to live.
M: In your place, I think I might not have been able to survive. You must have hated to be at home.
G: I loved my home. I wanted it to be the place of safety and peace that I believe homes should be. I wanted to be there—and I couldn't stand to be there. I begged Jim to give me some time just to be there alone, and he said, "Yes, yes, of course," and then reneged on his agreement. My emotional conflict took a terrible toll on me physically as well.
M: In what ways?
G: I didn't sleep much, so I was always, always exhausted. I had severe back and shoulder pain that almost nothing helped. I had stomach aches, and my colon acted up. Sometimes I was so stressed while I was eating that a bite would stick in my gullet halfway down, and I would have to stop and breathe deeply and try to relax until the pain went away.
M: Did Jim notice any of this?
G: Yes, and he usually had an answer. "You're eating too fast," or "You're working too hard," or "Have you seen your doctor about that pain?" What I have to wonder now is if the effort to keep his two lives separate affected Jim in some of the same ways. He had lots of little physical ailments, but proudly repeated over and over what a doctor had told him many years ago, that he was strong as a horse. When I told my own doctor that the marriage had ended and I was suffering some physical effects, he said, "But don't think Jim got by. He paid." I guess our bodies know—and they react—when we are not living with integrity.
There is one big difference, though, between the duplicity of Jim's life and what I was doing. Jim purposely deceived. I was compartmentalizing my life, just trying to keep my sanity. It has been helpful for me to understand how I did this, and why it was necessary.
M: And were you angry at Jim?
G: Of course! But anger is a hard emotion for me to admit I have, because of my upbringing. Probably some of the time when I was feeling overwhelming hurt, I was actually angry and it would have been healthier for me if I could have recognized that it was anger. But it took awhile for me to be able to say even to myself, "How could he have done this to me? How dared he talk this way?" It was unthinkable to me at the time to say such a thing to him. So, much, much later, at the point where I could admit I was angry, some healing took place. When I knew what to call it, after awhile I was able to give it up.
M: And were you ever angry and disappointed with God? Did you feel He had let you down or even tricked you?
G: Well yes, I raged a few times, briefly, but He was always right there when I quieted down! After one particularly devastating revelation about Jim's life, coming after he was gone, I was storming around and God said—an inner knowing in my heart—"I saw you. I was there." To me, that says I cannot expect to avoid or get out of every distressing situation, but I will never be abandoned. I really did have a place of refuge, even though it couldn't be my home.
To be continued.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Genny's Story - 3: Discovery and Denial
To read all previously published parts, click on "Genny's Story" in the labels column at the left. Note that entries appear in reverse order, the most recent on top.
Genny shares now about how she came to understand that she was being abused in her home.
Marjorie: Tell us something about the process of discovery which led you to see that what you were experiencing was abuse.
Genny: I was a long time coming to that discovery; it truly was a process. It took no time at all, once we were married, for me to realize that harsh and demeaning words were going to be the norm. When you love, though, you can excuse quite a lot and so for awhile, I just handled it like the hurt feelings I might have in any other situation: I asked God to help me get over it. Oh, I just remember he found me praying once after he'd knocked me down verbally, and that made him really mad! Maybe he didn't want God interfering in our relationship . . .?
M: But this was different than ordinary, run-of-the-mill hurt feelings?
G: Yes, this was consistently repeated, worsening as time went on, and expanding to take in more areas.
M: When did you begin to see it for what it was?
G: At the library, I came across the book, Angry Men and the Women Who Love Them. Jim was away, and when I got started reading it, I stayed up most of the night. I would read a few pages and then put the book down and say, "Oh my goodness, oh my goodness." Many of the things were so true to my own situation, I could hardly believe I was seeing it on a printed page. Before that, I did not recognize that these actions were a deliberate pattern for the purpose of control. I had no frame of reference to call his actions abusive. When I was hurt and he would say, "Oh, you're just too sensitive," I thought, "Okay, I'm just too sensitive; I'll try to be tougher." But then I read Angry Men and the author (a man, by the way) wrote that angry men often say such things to blame their partner and excuse themselves. I believe that's when I first really saw that what was happening in my home was an identifiable pattern of behavior and that it had a name. Abuse.
M: Can you give us examples from that book?
G: The author names physical abuse, which would obviously include beating and kicking and choking, but also such things as grabbing, pushing, shaking, or arm-twisting. Emotional abuse such as putting the woman down, making her feel bad about herself, "owning" her. Economic abuse: refusing to take financial responsibility, spending her money or using her credit for himself, making unreasonable demands that she account for her expenditures, even unlawful actions. Threats: "You're just lucky to have me." "If you do such-and-such, I will leave you." Intimidation: looks, actions, gestures, or a loud voice intended to put fear into her, demanding undivided attention. Property damage: breaking things (always hers, not his). Isolation: insisting on knowing where she is at all times and who she talks to, hindering her association with other people. Humiliation: hostile humor in public, verbal criticism, inappropriate touching in public. Sexual abuse: rough or unwanted sex, withholding sex. Male privilege: treating her like a servant, perhaps using Scripture about "submission" to justify that behavior. There's more, but that's probably enough!
M: Until you gained some of this information, would you say you were in denial?
G: Oh yes, certainly! You don't want to believe bad, ugly things about someone you love, so you just don't let the thoughts take enough shape that they can be called something. But I have to say that some denial was the only way I had been able to make it that far. If the situation is so bad that you think "This cannot be happening," the next logical step is, "It's not really happening." Women like me begin to deny feeling what we feel, not daring to think what we think, because it's a matter of survival. It's not a matter of trying to be happy; it's just trying to stay sane. It wouldn't have been helpful at all for someone to tell me, "You're just in denial." It's true, I was, but the unconscious part of me knew how much I could deal with and survive. When I was able to receive it, I began to come across the information I needed.
M: "When the learner is ready, the teacher comes"—or something like that."
G: Yes, that was true for me, anyway. It was right there on the printed page. I couldn't deny it any longer.
M: So denial kept you from knowing?
G: Yes, but I don't necessarily think that all denial is a bad thing. I wasn't ready yet to see, and denial protected me--my mind and heart--until I was ready to handle the truth.
M: So a little healthy denial is a good thing?" [I'm smiling!]
G: Yes, I guess you could say that, if you want to live through a situation that's too terrible to live through!
M: Were there incidents that made you see clearly the extent of abuse in your home?
G: Yes, one morning he flew into the worst rage I have ever witnessed by anyone anywhere: yelling, cursing and name-calling, slamming doors. I felt calm, knowing that if he punched or shoved, I would call the police—in a heartbeat. But I excused even that outburst, telling myself, "He was so upset he didn't know what he was saying." So several days later, when one of us brought up that incident and I offered my lenient assessment, he vehemently told me, "I wasn't out of control. I knew exactly what I was doing. And I purposely chose the words that I knew would hurt you the worst."
M: How did you respond to that?
G: I was devastated. Through the years I had made all kinds of excuses for his bad behavior. That day my trust was fractured as I took a hard look at the truth. There were not extenuating circumstances; Jim's behavior was not simply an aberration. This was the real Jim I had not allowed myself to recognize. That was the beginning of my awareness that I was in an ongoing crisis situation. I had to face the fact that Jim was not abusive because he was angry so much as that he was angry because he was an abuser.
M: Let me ask this: Were you ever afraid?
G: Other people were afraid for me sometimes, but I think I was actually afraid only once. We were traveling, staying in a motel. He startled me from exhausted sleep by suddenly turning on the lamp, directly into my face. I went into a panic mode, shaking and crying; I literally could not stop. Instead of trying to calm and comfort me, he stared at me with the most awful expression I had ever seen on his face. The only way I can describe it was a look of evil pleasure; his eyes were excited and glittery. Like a snake's, I thought. I was horrified.
M: But you didn't recognize any of this as abuse?
G: No. It's like I couldn't get my mind around it. This wasn't the first time in my life that a close relationship of mine had faltered and failed, but it was my first experience of abuse and it was utterly incomprehensible. I couldn't believe that somebody who claimed to be godly could be so cruel to a person he had promised to love and cherish.
To be continued.
Genny shares now about how she came to understand that she was being abused in her home.
Marjorie: Tell us something about the process of discovery which led you to see that what you were experiencing was abuse.
Genny: I was a long time coming to that discovery; it truly was a process. It took no time at all, once we were married, for me to realize that harsh and demeaning words were going to be the norm. When you love, though, you can excuse quite a lot and so for awhile, I just handled it like the hurt feelings I might have in any other situation: I asked God to help me get over it. Oh, I just remember he found me praying once after he'd knocked me down verbally, and that made him really mad! Maybe he didn't want God interfering in our relationship . . .?
M: But this was different than ordinary, run-of-the-mill hurt feelings?
G: Yes, this was consistently repeated, worsening as time went on, and expanding to take in more areas.
M: When did you begin to see it for what it was?
G: At the library, I came across the book, Angry Men and the Women Who Love Them. Jim was away, and when I got started reading it, I stayed up most of the night. I would read a few pages and then put the book down and say, "Oh my goodness, oh my goodness." Many of the things were so true to my own situation, I could hardly believe I was seeing it on a printed page. Before that, I did not recognize that these actions were a deliberate pattern for the purpose of control. I had no frame of reference to call his actions abusive. When I was hurt and he would say, "Oh, you're just too sensitive," I thought, "Okay, I'm just too sensitive; I'll try to be tougher." But then I read Angry Men and the author (a man, by the way) wrote that angry men often say such things to blame their partner and excuse themselves. I believe that's when I first really saw that what was happening in my home was an identifiable pattern of behavior and that it had a name. Abuse.
M: Can you give us examples from that book?
G: The author names physical abuse, which would obviously include beating and kicking and choking, but also such things as grabbing, pushing, shaking, or arm-twisting. Emotional abuse such as putting the woman down, making her feel bad about herself, "owning" her. Economic abuse: refusing to take financial responsibility, spending her money or using her credit for himself, making unreasonable demands that she account for her expenditures, even unlawful actions. Threats: "You're just lucky to have me." "If you do such-and-such, I will leave you." Intimidation: looks, actions, gestures, or a loud voice intended to put fear into her, demanding undivided attention. Property damage: breaking things (always hers, not his). Isolation: insisting on knowing where she is at all times and who she talks to, hindering her association with other people. Humiliation: hostile humor in public, verbal criticism, inappropriate touching in public. Sexual abuse: rough or unwanted sex, withholding sex. Male privilege: treating her like a servant, perhaps using Scripture about "submission" to justify that behavior. There's more, but that's probably enough!
M: Until you gained some of this information, would you say you were in denial?
G: Oh yes, certainly! You don't want to believe bad, ugly things about someone you love, so you just don't let the thoughts take enough shape that they can be called something. But I have to say that some denial was the only way I had been able to make it that far. If the situation is so bad that you think "This cannot be happening," the next logical step is, "It's not really happening." Women like me begin to deny feeling what we feel, not daring to think what we think, because it's a matter of survival. It's not a matter of trying to be happy; it's just trying to stay sane. It wouldn't have been helpful at all for someone to tell me, "You're just in denial." It's true, I was, but the unconscious part of me knew how much I could deal with and survive. When I was able to receive it, I began to come across the information I needed.
M: "When the learner is ready, the teacher comes"—or something like that."
G: Yes, that was true for me, anyway. It was right there on the printed page. I couldn't deny it any longer.
M: So denial kept you from knowing?
G: Yes, but I don't necessarily think that all denial is a bad thing. I wasn't ready yet to see, and denial protected me--my mind and heart--until I was ready to handle the truth.
M: So a little healthy denial is a good thing?" [I'm smiling!]
G: Yes, I guess you could say that, if you want to live through a situation that's too terrible to live through!
M: Were there incidents that made you see clearly the extent of abuse in your home?
G: Yes, one morning he flew into the worst rage I have ever witnessed by anyone anywhere: yelling, cursing and name-calling, slamming doors. I felt calm, knowing that if he punched or shoved, I would call the police—in a heartbeat. But I excused even that outburst, telling myself, "He was so upset he didn't know what he was saying." So several days later, when one of us brought up that incident and I offered my lenient assessment, he vehemently told me, "I wasn't out of control. I knew exactly what I was doing. And I purposely chose the words that I knew would hurt you the worst."
M: How did you respond to that?
G: I was devastated. Through the years I had made all kinds of excuses for his bad behavior. That day my trust was fractured as I took a hard look at the truth. There were not extenuating circumstances; Jim's behavior was not simply an aberration. This was the real Jim I had not allowed myself to recognize. That was the beginning of my awareness that I was in an ongoing crisis situation. I had to face the fact that Jim was not abusive because he was angry so much as that he was angry because he was an abuser.
M: Let me ask this: Were you ever afraid?
G: Other people were afraid for me sometimes, but I think I was actually afraid only once. We were traveling, staying in a motel. He startled me from exhausted sleep by suddenly turning on the lamp, directly into my face. I went into a panic mode, shaking and crying; I literally could not stop. Instead of trying to calm and comfort me, he stared at me with the most awful expression I had ever seen on his face. The only way I can describe it was a look of evil pleasure; his eyes were excited and glittery. Like a snake's, I thought. I was horrified.
M: But you didn't recognize any of this as abuse?
G: No. It's like I couldn't get my mind around it. This wasn't the first time in my life that a close relationship of mine had faltered and failed, but it was my first experience of abuse and it was utterly incomprehensible. I couldn't believe that somebody who claimed to be godly could be so cruel to a person he had promised to love and cherish.
To be continued.
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