Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Love the Way You Lie

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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Monday, October 17, 2011

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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Friday, September 9, 2011

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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