Love the Way You Lie

start at the beginning

I have recently taken part in a thread online discussing the music of Eminem.  I always find the perspectives of others interesting.  In this particular thread, however, the judgement hit home.  Eminem was personally judged as needing Jesus, and his music was judged as being dark and glorifying crime and the poor treatment of women.  One song in particular was mentioned more than once:  "Love the Way You Lie".  When I pointed out that this song is about domestic violence, it seemed that some in the thread then understood, but for others, the judgement just kept coming . . .


"Bringing 'awareness' to domestic abuse and violence is pretty much the same as bringing 'awareness' to cancer.  I doubt there is anyone in America that isn't aware of either of those things."


Did she really just compare domestic violence awareness to cancer awareness?  Really?  Because I've never known of an artist to get this kind of heat for recording a song about cancer.  And yet, a song about domestic violence?  It's too dark and glorifies the poor treatment of women.


Let me tell you why this song is so powerful . . .  It conveys a truth about domestic violence . . .

Eminem - Love The Way You Lie Lyrics

• Songwriters: A Grant, H Hafferman, Marshall Mathers

• Just gonna stand there and watch me burn
• Have you ever experienced a burn where cold chills wash through your body . . . over and over . . . 
• And you just ache for anything to bring relief?
• It's that kind of pain, except it radiates from your soul.
• Well that's alright because I like the way it hurts
• I can't imagine one would consciously acknowledge "liking" the hurt, but it does make you wonder . . .
• Afterall, I stayed and kept going through it . . . again . . . and again . . .
• Just gonna stand there and hear me cry
• Oh the tears . . . so many tears I've cried . . .
• Well, that's alright because I love the way you lie
• I love the way you lie
• I listened to the lies.  I accepted them.  I embraced them.  I loved them.
• Because I so desperately wanted to believe them.
• 
  
• I can't tell you what it really is, I can only tell you what it feels like
• And right now there's a steel knife in my windpipe
• I can't breathe but I still fight while I can fight
• As long as the wrong feels right it's like I'm in flight
• The fights could go on for hours . . . days . . .
• 
  
• High off of love, drunk from my hate
• It's like I'm huffin' paint and I love it, the more I suffer
• I suffocate and right before I'm about to drown, she resuscitates me
• She fuckin' hates me, and I love it
• When he was angry, he definitely seemed to be on a high. 
• And the more his anger was fed, the uglier it got. 
• How many times did I hate him?
• And how many times did he love it?

• Wait, where you going? I'm leaving you, no, you ain't
• Come back, we're running right back, here we go again
• How many times did I walk toward that door just to be pulled right back in again?
• Because it's like a black hole, and it just keeps sucking you in . . .
• It's so insane, 'cause when it's going good, it's going great
• I'm Superman with the wind at his back, she's Lois Lane
• And that's the rub.  Because when things are good, it's like a relationship high.
• And that high, and the thought of that high, trapped me in hell . . .
• Until the flames licked so high that hope turned to ash . . .
• 
  
•  But when it's bad, it's awful, I feel so ashamed
• I snap, "Who's that dude?", I don't even know his name
• I laid hands on her, I never stoop so low again
• I guess I don't know my own strength
• How many times did he lay his hands on me?
• How many times did he seem stunned that he'd hurt me?
• How many times did he say he'd never do it again?
• He loved me . . . everything was going to change . . .
• 
  
• Just gonna stand there and watch me burn
• Well that's alright because I like the way it hurts
• Just gonna stand there and hear me cry
• Well, that's alright because I love the way you lie
• I love the way you lie
• I love the way you lie
• 
  
• You ever love somebody so much, you could barely breathe when you with 'em?
• You meet, and neither one of you even know it hit 'em
• Got that warm fuzzy feeling, yeah, them chills, used to get 'em
• Now you're gettin' fuckin' sick of lookin' at 'em
• And all it takes is one second . . . one . . . 
• to go from breathless love to the crushing pain of being abused . . . again . . .
• 
  
• You swore you'd never hit 'em, never do nothing to hurt 'em
• Now you're in each others face spewing venom in your words when you spit 'em
• You push, pull each others hair, scratch, claw, bit 'em
• Throw 'em down, pin 'em, so lost in the moments when you're in 'em
• How long did those moments last for him?
• Because for me, those moments still linger . . .
• 
  
• It's the rage that took over, it controls you both
• So they say you'd best to go your separate ways, guess that they don't know ya
• 'Cause today, that was yesterday, yesterday is over, it's a different day
• Sound like broken records playing over
• Yesterday is over.  Each day begins anew.  
• And today is going to be the beginning of a new life.  Without abuse.  
• Oh the lies.  The sweet lies . . .
• 
  
• But you promised her, next time you'd show restraint
• You don't get another chance, life is no Nintendo game
• But you lied again, now you get to watch her leave out the window
• Guess that's why they call it "window pane"
• And now that I'm finally out, it still hurts.
• It hurts me.  It hurts him.  It hurts me that I hurt him.
• I wonder . . .  Does it hurt him that he hurt me?
• 
  
• Just gonna stand there and watch me burn
• Well that's alright because I like the way it hurts
• Just gonna stand there and hear me cry
• Well that's alright because I love the way you lie
• I love the way you lie
• I love the way you lie
• 
  
• Now I know we said things, did things that we didn't mean
• And we fall back into the same patterns, same routine
• And even though you vow that this time is gonna be different, it's not.
• Old habits are hard to break, and relationship patterns so easy to fall back into.
• But your temper's just as bad as mine is, you're the same as me
• But when it comes to love, you're just as blinded
• And as time goes on, and you're hurt again . . . and again . . .
• You start picking up habits from your abuser . . .
• And your abuser will use that against you . . .
• And try to convince you that you're the same . . .
• You're NOT.
• 
  
• Baby, please come back, it wasn't you, baby, it was me
• Maybe our relationship isn't as crazy as it seems
• Maybe that's what happens when a tornado meets a volcano
• All I know is I love you too much to walk away though
• And while their rage makes them powerful, they are weak,
• And when they feel like they're losing you, they will beg . . .
• 
  
• Come inside, pick up your bags off the sidewalk
• Don't you hear sincerity in my voice when I talk?
• Told you this is my fault, look me in the eyeball
• Next time I'm pissed, I'll aim my fist at the drywall
• And in that moment, they are so sincere.  
• And we believe the lies they tell us.  
• The lies they tell themselves . . .
• 
  
• Next time? There won't be no next time
• I apologize, even though I know it's lies
• Did he ever realize that his apologies, his promises were lies?
• I'm tired of the games, I just want her back, I know I'm a liar
• If she ever tries to fuckin' leave again, I'ma tie her to the bed
• And set this house on fire
• A fire?  A gun?  Does it matter how?
• I'll never forget his words . . .
• "I'm going to kill you, Abigail.  I'm going to kill you and everyone in your family."
• 
  
• Just gonna stand there and watch me burn
• Well that's alright because I like the way it hurts
• Just gonna stand there and hear me cry
• Well that's alright because I love the way you lie
• I love the way you lie
• I love the way you lie

Perhaps now you can understand how every verse of this song, nearly every line, touches me personally . . .

The last comment in the discussion thread?

"The talent is obvious, so is the NEED for Jesus.  That is all that was stated in the original post.  My spirit has always felt heavy when I've heard his music.  I know he's had a rough life, but we ALL have a story."

So many insinuations here.  Because he sings of dark topics he needs Jesus?

How do you know he doesn't have Jesus?  Who are you to judge that?  Because my writing here is laced with darkness.  And I admit, I need Jesus.  Thank God that I long ago accepted him as my Savior.  And He has been my rock, my only resting place through this hell.

The insinuation being that he should not share his (or someone else's) story.

I've lived the story in this song.  Should I not share my story?

Why?

Because it's dark?

Because it makes you uncomfortable?

Because guess what?  It makes me uncomfortable too.

I LIVED IT!  I LIVED in this hell!

People need to hear!

Others need to know they're not alone!

Others need to know that they can walk out of this hell!

Others need to know that their abusers DON'T have all the power!

You can choose not to listen; you can choose not to read; but do not suggest that my story shouldn't be told . . .  

Because we ALL have a story to tell!

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Home Sweet Home . . .

start at the beginning

October 8, 2011.  This was my first night back in my own home.

I left on August 19th, the day I had Jim served with divorce papers.

And now, here I was, seven weeks later, sleeping in my own home.

A lot happened in those seven weeks.  I stayed the first week with a friend to see how Jim would deal with the situation.  Then, after the first week, I felt safe enough to move in to my parents' second master suite.

The home we shared is rented.  Due to some conflict between Jim and the landlords (to whom I am close), Jim was evicted.  He had until October 7th to get out.  He moved the last of his things October 1st.

I spent the next week sifting through the wreckage of the remnants of our life together.  The collapse of our life, such as it was.  The desecrated ruins of what should have been, but could never be . . .  Lots of bittersweet moments, with tears that never fall . . .

But, I am a planner, and I wanted nothing more than to have my life back.  So, I started a list of things that I must replace.  Immediately.  You'd be surprised how quickly all the little stuff adds up.

In any case, by Friday, October 7th, I was ready to begin.  My locks had been changed, and Jim was keeping Sam until 6:30 Saturday evening.  So, I cleaned, and I purged, and I rearranged.

I found it very cathartic.  I threw a decade of pain and anger into everything I did.  I swept and mopped.  I moved furniture around.  I sorted the clothes Jim left behind, and trashed the things I deemed no good, and gave the good stuff away.  I wanted this to be MY home, not the home we'd shared.  And, though I'm sure there's still plenty of pain and anger lurking in the shadows of my soul, I found something else . . .  Hope.

So, October 8, 2011, Sam and I slept our first night in OUR home.  It wasn't completely cleaned.  It wasn't completely how I wanted it.  But, it was changed enough.  It was ours.

I woke that first night, in the middle of the night . . . and opened my eyes to see the space where my husband's head once lay next to mine, to discover I have a new bed mate.

She has slept with me every night since . . .

And now, to share MY home.  I won't bore you with pictures of the Kitchen, Dining, or Bath.  They're boring and nothing has really changed in there.

I don't have befores, but here is my Master Bedroom.  The layout is the same, but Jim took the dresser out of this room (it was cheap and full of his stuff), and I replaced it with the small dresser that had been in Sam's room.

Yes, I know you're all jealous.  It truly takes a special kind of talent to make drapes out of unaltered bed sheets and an entertainment center out of a small chest, two milk crates, and a 19" CRT TV.  Thankfully I have found that talent!  No, seriously, I'm just working with what I have, and for the moment, this is what I have.  As for window treatments?  I rent.  I plan to build in about a year.  I don't plan to waste money on window treatments that will not transfer to my new home!

And, here is Sam's room.  Once again, no befores.  The layout is different, and I replaced the small dresser that was in his room, but is now in mine, with the taller dresser that used to be in the living room.

Now I really need to finish his Cars blanket and pillow case to match his curtains!  Oh, and please note his rocking horse and car ramp that used to be in the living and dining rooms are now in his room!

And now, drum roll please!  I haven't had a proper living room in six years.  Six years!  The rental we lived in after we lost everything in a major natural disaster was just too small to squeeze anything other than a glider rocker into, and the living room in what is now MY home was too full of Jim's boxes of junk for me to do anything with.  I kid you not, Jim had that much junk in my living room!  I have previously shared this pic with no one, as it was too embarrassing.  My living room with Jim:

I know!  But, what could I do?  It was all his stuff!

I am now one week in to having this home as mine.  One week, and nearly $600 in furniture later, THIS is MY living room.

Work to do?  Sure.  I'm moving that small table under the TV next to my recliner.  I'm moving my hope chest under those windows, and when I can find a great price on a 30 something inch flat panel LCD TV, I'm going to move this one to my bedroom and ditch the 19" that's in there.  Last but not least, I do promise I will do something so we aren't looking at aluminum foil covered windows!

So, that's it.  MY home.  A place that is now full of hope and love.  A place where dreams grow.  A place where I can breathe.  A place where I can heal.  Home. Sweet. Home.

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Three Weeks Gone

start at the beginning

The stress was incredibly high.  I was driving my cat to my parents' house, with my little man in the back seat.  The cat became quite fidgety, and I stroked her, saying in a calm soothing voice over and over, "It'll be OK . . .  It'll be OK . . ."  And the question comes from the back seat, "It'll be OK, Mama?"  "Yes, Baby, it'll be OK."  And it was then, as I tried to reassure my cat and my child that I realized I was also trying to reassure myself . . .

It's been three weeks now since I left.  Three weeks ago from this moment, I was just arriving at my friend's house scared out of my mind.

Sam and I lived at my friend's house for a week.  She has a daughter about Sam's age, and they formed a fast friendship.  Jim did not know where we were, and this offered a blessed reprieve while I gauged my soon to be ex-husband's frame of mind.

Since Jim seemed to be taking things much better than anticipated, I moved Sam and I to my parents two weeks ago today.  My parents have a large guest suite, and Aaron and I are now living there.  So far this arrangement is working out OK.

Throughout these three weeks, Jim has tried every measure imaginable to get me back.  He has promised to change and be a new person, he has begged, he has guilt tripped me, he has talked to people with whom I am close so they could talk to me on his behalf . . .  I am holding firm.  I am holding strong.

Currently we are negotiating property division/child custody issues.  If all goes well, we will reach a mutually agreeable decision and my filing will change from a fault based divorce to irreconcilable differences.  We will have to reschedule a court date, but even so, our divorce could be completed by the end of October.

I still get frustrated when Jim seems disinterested in Sam.  He's already broken 2 dates to see Sam, so I will no longer get Sam's hopes up until I'm looking right at Jim.  But ultimately, how much interest Jim takes in Sam is his decision.  My decision is to be there for my little boy no matter what his dad decides . . .

I feel like a new person.  I'm standing up for myself.  I feel strong.  I feel empowered.  And the world is bigger, brighter, more beautiful.  And that crushing weight I used to carry?  Gone . . .  Just last weekend I had three people tell me that I seem happier, and I am . . .

I'm making plans for the future.  The horizon is so bright with promise.  Sure, the fears still creep in from time to time, but I just keep putting one foot in front of the other and not looking back . . .  because . . .  It'll be OK . . .

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Leaving . . .

start at the beginning

For my birthday this year (one week ago yesterday), I bought myself a $200 consultation fee with an attorney.  It's difficult to say exactly how I got to this point.  After the January incident, I knew our relationship would never be the same again, but didn't realize just how unhappy I would be continuing with life with this man I not only no longer loved, but no longer trusted with my care and safety.  For me, I supposed it came down to the fact that he was ready to build a house, and I just wasn't.  I could NOT see building a house and becoming even more financially entangled with this man.  So, in spite of all of the fear, I finally stood up for myself and saw an attorney.

My visit with the attorney went well, but honestly, I never realized when they ask how fast you want to move, they're serious.  She was ready to draw up papers that day if I wanted.  But, it was already 5 pm by then and we both needed to get children out of school.  Not to mention I had not yet decided how I was planning to pay the retainer.  So, we scheduled a Monday meeting.

Monday morning we drafted paperwork, and I asked how soon he could be served.  She told me that they would file by mail, so it would take several days just to get paperwork back.  Unless I wanted to file the paperwork in person.  I chose to do this.  Living a double life is stressful.  So, it was scheduled.  Jim would be served today.

Today was a regularly scheduled work day for Jim.  I got up as usual, and helped get him off to work.  Then my day began.  I took a few things to my parents, just in case.  I packed up clothes, medicine, toiletries.  It's amazing just how small our lives are when we really ONLY think about necessities.  I made a trip to town to get a few groceries for Sam and I.  I didn't want to completely mooch off my friend . . .  It sounds so easy, but every action was burdened . . .  Unbelievably heavy . . .

I stayed in contact with a couple of friends, and spoke with my parents.

Sam and I finally arrived at my friend's home around 1:30 or 2 this afternoon.  I have an amazingly gracious friend who, along with her family, has welcomed Sam and I into their home to ensure our safety.  I have our few things unloaded . . . organization shall follow . . . later . . .

I received a call from the process server at 2:25 today.  He was on his way to serve Jim.  My anxiety at that point just skyrocketed . . .  Just waiting . . .  waiting . . . 

Finally a few minutes after 3 pm, my phone rang.  It was Jim.  I answered the phone.  He first asked if there was any way we could work things out.  No.  A 30 minute conversation followed.  I will not burden you with the details, but it went amazingly well.  Outside of trying to lay a guilt trip on me, he was extremely civil.  He claims that he saw this coming.  I don't know.  He assures me he wants things to go as smoothly as possible.  We'll see.  So far so good.

I still plan to stay with Sam at my friend's home for probably at least a week, and we'll take it from there.

I've been so afraid for so long.  I understand that this thing could still get bad.  It could still get ugly.  But now that I've overcome the fear that kept me hostage, I feel free . . .

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I Choose to . . .

start at the beginning

I've been struggling with a LOT of mental anguish over the decisions I must make.

It would just be SO much easier if I weren't making them alone.

Yesterday I told Jim I wanted a divorce . . .

Not in a confrontational way, and by phone.

He says, Really?  You'd be good with getting a divorce?

Yes, I would.

But, he won't agree to one.  If it weren't for Sam he'd do it, but he's NOT going to be without his boy.

I tried telling him that he could still be very involved with his life.

His response?

I can't even consider that due to my concern for Sam's safety and well being.

Yes, you read that right.

I take care of my son I'd say 95% of the time (and I think I'm stretching it to give Jim 5% since he's rarely alone with him), and he's never had a serious injury in his life.  I mean, really!  He's never even worn a band-aid and he's two and a half!  But, Jim doesn't trust me with the safety of our son.  Of course, he doesn't trust me with anything, even though I'm a highly intelligent, highly responsible individual, so this should surprise no one.

In any case, though he agrees that we could both probably be happier with someone else, he's making the best of it for Sam, and I should too.

He's sucking it up, and I should too.

This conversation essentially went on frustratingly like this for a good 30 minutes.

Now, however, it's as if it never happened.

Outside of an occasional hinted reference he'll make to it, nothing.

He is, however, treating me like gold.

It comes down to this.

He isn't going to help make a dissolution easy, so I have two choices.

I can choose to be happy in my current circumstances, or . . .

I can prepare for what will surely be a fight.

And when I come up swinging, I hope he realizes, he made me what I am . . .

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Guilty . . .

start at the beginning

I continue stumbling through every day.

The thing is, every day in an abusive relationship is not bad.  Every day is not abusive.  There are actually some pretty good days.  And sometimes, those days last a while . . .

This is why I've ended up staying so darn long . . .  Because, when the relationship is good, it's good.  When the relationship is good, I've dared to dream it can stay that way.  I've dared to dream my dreams can still come true.  I've dared to dream my relationship is normal . . . and good.

It is only with time, as dreams of normalcy are crushed again and again that hope begins slowly dying.  For dreams can only be smashed so many times before the dust they've become can no longer be gathered and reformed.

Hope died . . . slowly . . .  The winds of weariness blew the dust of my dreams away . . .  And I stand in the emptiness left behind . . . broken . . .

I don't like uncertainty.  I like knowing what's happening from one day to the next, and sadly enough, this relationship, this marriage, has become normal to me . . .

So, as I stand broken, in the emptiness that was once my life, I pretend.  I pretend that all is well.  I love you's never get said.  Hugs are no longer spontaneous and fierce.  But . . . life goes on.

The emptiness, however, is pervasive.  The quiet death of dreams and hope buried inside of me.

And, I want out.  And, I think about it often . . . not only during the bad days, but in the good.

Right now, we're in a cycle of good days.  Things, for all practical purposes, are going well.  Still, I think about leaving . . .

And, I feel guilty.

You ever have a boyfriend you know you're going to break up with, and then he does something super sweet for you and you feel guilty?  That's my life now . . . during the good days.

Back rub?  I feel guilty.  Lunch date?  I feel guilty.  Talk of building me a house?  I feel guilty.  Anything he does for me that I enjoy?  I feel guilty.

If I turn my thoughts into action, I'm going to hurt him incredibly.  (I know based on threats he's made, that should be the least of my concerns . . .)

I know we're in our good days right now, but there is a laundry list of grievances he has committed against me . . . a mountain of hurt . . . an emptiness . . . an aching emptiness . . .

I have every reason and every right to consider dissolution . . .

So, why?  Why do I feel  so . damn . guilty ?

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A Paralyzed Muddled Mess

start at the beginning

It's been four weeks since I last updated . . .

Tomorrow will be four weeks since my last counseling appointment . . .

(Note to self: schedule next counseling appointment . . .)

I told my counselor about the "January Incident" . . . finally . . .

He listened in disbelief.  He hung his head.  He sat quietly, and then he looked up, directly into my eyes and quietly said, "This goes against everything I stand for, but this relationship needs to be dissolved."

Four weeks later I'm still here.  Why?

I get through all the negativity by thinking, "I could always file for divorce."

But, I'm still here.  Why?

It's not any better.  I haven't been physically threatened, but the negativity continues on an almost daily basis in one way or another . . .

Some statements are as simple as, "I can't believe you didn't know that."  Of course he says this with the utmost superiority . . .

Mostly it's just the way everything he says implies that I'm not a good enough mother.  I don't watch him close enough.  I don't brush his teeth good enough.  I don't discipline correctly.  It . just . never . ends . . .

But sometimes he just comes out and says it, "You're need to be a better mother to your son."  I am being the best mother I know how, and I think that any normal person would view my mothering skills as above par.  So . . .  why do I let his words hurt so much?

And he grumbles because the dishes pile up and laundry hasn't been put away . . .  Well, obviously he's capable of seeing what needs to be done, so why doesn't he lift a finger?  But that's probably just a normal man thing, so perhaps isn't even pertinent to the whole abuse situation . . .

(I just took a brief break to schedule my next counseling appointment . . . August 3rd . . . three more weeks . . .)

The most egregious offence he's committed in the last four weeks?  He was trying to teach Sam to do something completely inconsequential in the grand scheme of life, and Sam just wasn't getting it.  He told Sam, "You're just like your mom.  You have no intelligence."  It's the first time he's ever said anything remotely like this to Sam, and so far it hasn't happened again, but if there's one thing I've learned during this last decade, it is that once he commits an abusive act/behavior and gets by with it, it will happen again . . .  Now it's just a matter of when . . .

I'm rambling a great deal, and I apologize.  This is the mental conflict I live with.  The rambling thoughts that jumble in my brain daily.  I honestly deal with it by ignoring it.  That's why I've neglected blogging for four weeks.  Facing reality is tough.  Facing reality brings tears.  Facing reality makes me look this monster in the face, feel like a failure, and admit that even though I know what I need to do, I'm too weak to do it.

So, I live a half life.  A life where I look so totally normal.  Just another working mom and wife trying to make it all work, always feeling the obligations of life battle over time with the desires to simply enjoy my child.  But,  hidden, where precious few see, is the paralysis . . . the lack of desire to move forward with life as it is.

Jim speaks of building a house this fall, but I don't even want to talk about it.  I desperately want another child, a sibling for my little Sam, and though time is working against me, I don't even mention it.  Because our relationship isn't good, and only a fool would get in deeper . . .

I should be making steps to dissolve this relationship.  But I'm paralyzed to do that too.

So, I'm left wallowing in the muddled mess of my mind, trapped in this inexplicable paralysis . . .

And now, I leave you with something that came to me as I was taking a walk to clear my head this past week . . .

Wish

If I had a shooting star

And a wish to wish come true,

I'd wish that I'd never

. . . heard of you.

But if I'd never heard of you,

I would not have him,

And he has my heart

In a way you never will.

07/09/2011

(c) copyright 2011
may not be reproduced in part or in whole without express permission of the author

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