Post by Wolf on Feb 20, 2004 22:25:47 GMT -5
The following was written in response to a prolonged series of flame wars on a recovery newsgroup that I used to read on a regular basis.
I stayed out of the flame wars - but could not help but notice that many posters I know and respect were not only being deeply hurt by what was being said; but were also getting involved in the denigration, name-calling, and worse.
One poster noted that non-involvement is a form of involvement and; in a strange way, approval of the dynamics.
I thought about that for quite a while - and posted the following to the newsgroup in response, in particular to one person, but also to the entire group - because it applied (in my opinion) to all who were involved. Note; I've changed the name of the person to whom I originally addressed this to the generic "Anonymous."
Words really do hurt...
Hi, Anonymous; and others who chose to read...
No flames in this post at all, fwiw...
On the wall of the hallway of Mou's and my home is a poster, showing a picture of a young girl with very wide near-tears eyes...
Superimposed on that picture is a repeating column of:
You Idiot
You Idiot
You Idiot
You Idiot
You Idiot
.
.
.
The caption simply says "You don't have to hit to hurt" ...
In our society and culture, it seems (to me) at least that all of us adults completely agree that ill-chosen words can hurt children - but that hey, because we are adults, "sticks and stones can break my bones, but words can never hurt me."
Yeah, right.
We take care of the children by being careful with what we say to them because their sense of self and self-worth is fragile, new, and evolving.
But hey hey, don't need to do that with adults at all, right? We adults know who we are, our egos are strong, formed, complete, nothing can touch that at all, oh no...
Right.
If that were true, all of the various support groups would have no need to exist.
I've never read anywhere - on the net, web, or in professional journals - anything to contradict that abuse survivors - any survivors - have very low or nonexistent have little or no self-esteem.
Indeed, all of those sources - and more - stress that a survivor is particularly vulnerable to further abuse of any kind; "sensitized" - and more likely to believe negative things about themselves than positive.
Those of you who know me know much of my own childhood, and some of you were reading asar when my prior marriage broke up.
Part of the reason for the 21-year marriage dying is that both I and my ex-wife are both survivors; and neither one of us had the tools and skills to deal with the repercussions of abuse... I was as much to blame in that (very codependently) I swallowed all of the cultural, social, and religious doctrine, and d**n near lost all sense of identity with who I am as a result... "Men are strong, macho", "Forget the past, get on with your life", etc. etc. ad nauseum.
So, I tried to "be the perfect husband", "head of household", etc.; tried to repress, deny, and otherwise "forget about the past" with devastating results; not just to me and the ex-wife, but also to our son Shane. He, as a result of living in that environment, does his own fair share of denying, suppressing, and acting out - and some of that acting out takes the form of refusing any help of any kind, excessive drinking, drugs (less of that now than just two years ago), fits of violence - which thus far have been taken out on inanimate objects.
Part of the results of this, for me, was that I lost what little sense of self I had, lost all self-respect and sense of self-worth that my guardians had helped me rebuild after I and my siblings were literally rescued from the original abusive (mental, physical, sexual) environment.
Getting back to the words concept though.
All during the 21 years, my ex would handle literally all disagreements by saying "I'm going to get a job, leave you, and divorce you."
She always accompanied her tirades (no exceptions) with various accusations:
I have never loved you, I am going to get job and leave you
I married you to get away from my mother
You cannot support this family, cannot support me, and you never will.
Your mother said you are hard to live with, and she is right.
No one can understand you
I've never respected you
You are a slob
You will never be a real man
You are selfish, self-centered
You are not a man, you are a wimp, you cannot stand on your own two feet
You are a failure for not finishing college
You are a failure as a husband, provider, and father, and you always will be
You owe me for the s*it you've put me through
I'm going to make you pay till the day you die
You aren't a man, you can't even keep a decent job
You are married to your computers
Get out of my life
I wish you were dead
God is going to get you
I can't stand your guts
You are an ugly man
Don't come near me, you disgust me
You turn Shane against me
I married you to spite my mother
Shane always takes your side because you've brainwashed him
You never discipline Shane
You don't spend any time with me
I have never loved you
You never take me anywhere
Your poetry is dark, disturbing, I don't like it
The music you listen to is disturbing, moody, dark
We have nothing in common
You are no christian, and you are not a spiritual leader, you're a child of Satan
You are a dark evil man
You are sick, twisted, insane
You are a mean, cruel, vicious man, you are evil
You're demon possessed
...it hurt the first time she said this to me, and it hurt each and every time... yet, I kept trying, and no matter what I did to please her, it only got worse; and, hearing from therapists, counselors, social leaders, and more "She's unhappy because there is something wrong with you and your approach" resulted in my own believing that the accusations were right - and that HURT.
Our society does seem to automatically condemn the man in most divorce cases: "Oh the poor woman, he must be an absolute monster" - I know that is not true in a lot of cases; women can be monsters too - my own genetic mother taught me that.
The pain went pretty d**ned deep, feeding off what my own abusers had told me, said to me; more on this below.
For me, it hit rock-bottom on a Saturday morning in August of 1994.
The divorce was in stasis because the ex didn't have a job yet and therefore no place to live apart from me; we were under the same roof but different rooms, and avoided each other like the plague: literally leading separate lives.
That didn't prevent her from further tirades each time she saw me though, so I spent as much time at work - and away from the house that I could: going to the Delaware Water Gap or to the nearby canal just to walk by myself, or (many times) to get an uninterrupted night's sleep in my truck.
The previous Friday night I had gone to Home Depot and picked up a quart of hydrochloric acid and a quart of sulfuric acid, and filled a glass thermos with a half- and-half mixture, and left that in my truck.
Saturday morning, I drove to work (after yet another of the ex's tirades) and went to my office. I told NO ONE where I was going or why; my son had already escaped to a friend's house for the day, and the ex yelled "get out of my site, you ugly pig" as I went out the door.
When I got to my office, I wrote out a suicide note, blaming myself for the ex's - and my son's - misery; quoting many of the things my ex had accused me of (see the list above) as why I was so bad and unworthy to live.
I opened the thermos and was lifting it to my mouth - and the phone rang. Instinctively, literally without thinking, I automatically picked it up and answered.
It was one of my net friends, "geode".
Somehow, she knew something was wrong, and knew to call me at work; and she asked me what was wrong.
I did not tell her about what I was ready to do; I did not WANT anyone to intervene, talk me out of it. I only told her that I was incredibly depressed, and could not see how I had any future - after all, who'd want a debt- ridden two-time loser who couldn't do anything right?
I don't remember much of what was said; only that after I hung up the phone, I took the acid to the bathroom and poured it down the toilet, then headed out to the Delaware Water Gap... much of that week is a blur to me.
Continued in "Words do hurt - Part II"
