Jean
I started seeing my husband when I was 18. He was loud and rambunctious, but also very attractive, and I was completely enamored with him. I admired him for his bold, brazen demeanor and his rugged good looks. Mild flirting soon led to stolen kisses. He was attentive, and made me feel like I was someone special. He was always very gentle with me, kissing me softly, holding me tenderly. I always felt very safe and secure whenever I was with him.
So it’s no wonder that the first beating he gave me shook me to the core. It was so sudden, so unexpected, so out-of-the-blue that I thought I surely must have dreamt it.
We were newlyweds with a year old son, the first of three children we’d have together. He came home in the middle of the night, drunk as all hell and looking to fight. He woke me up and started accusing me of cheating on him. To this day I still can’t fathom why he would’ve thought such a thing. When I denied it, he stumbled to the side of the bed, held my head down on the pillow with one hand, and screamed, “Don’t lie to me, bitch!” while his other fist came crashing down on my skull. I curled into a ball, whimpering, telling him I love him, that I would never cheat on him, I was his wife for pete’s sake. He’d have none of it. His fist connected again and again with my head. When I tried to stop the blows, he’d grab a chunk of my hair and whip me around the bed as if I were a rag doll. I pleaded with him to stop, but apparently he took great pride in my begging, and it fueled his rage even more. I lost all sense of self with that first beating. Fear took hold of me, and he took control.
The abuse continued on a regular basis for the next four years, sometimes during waking hours when he was sober, but usually in the middle of the night when he’d return after a 2-3 day drinking and drugging binge.
He’d demand that I stand topless against the wall with my arms at my sides while he inspected my neck and breasts. He’d dig his fingers so hard into my flesh leaving red marks that he’d then insist were hickies left by other men. I was beat for that.
He’d push me into furniture leaving bruises on my legs. He’d then insist the bruises were hickies left by other men. I was beat for that.
We had just moved into a new home in a neighborhood with winding, curving streets. I still didn’t know my way around too well and took a wrong turn leaving the store one night and returned home later than expected. I was beat for that.
If I wasn’t at my desk when he called me at work, he would accuse me of being in my boss’ office bent over the chair getting fucked from behind. I was beat for that.
One day, before contact with family members was completely cut off, I was at my aunt’s house a few blocks away helping her with some computer issues. Not two minutes after walking through her door, he called to ask what was taking me so long. When I told him I had just arrived, he accused me of stopping first to suck dick. I was beat for that.
He’d come home and wake me up to tell me he saw (translation: hallucinated) a group of guys crawling out the window. He’d accuse me of being a whore who was just gang banged by the bunch. I was beat for that.
If I got up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom or get a drink of water, he’d accuse me of “sucking dick at the door.” I was beat for that.
One day, while holding our toddler boy in my arms, he smacked me so hard in the head that I went flying across the room, losing my hold on our son who fell to the floor and bouncing my face on the seat of a heavy wooden rocking chair. I had a black eye for a full week.
After the beatings he’d force me to have sex. He’d push me to the floor and demand I perform fellatio on him. My battered and bruised body would tremble. I fought back tears from the pain, my head throbbing from where he’d grabbed my hair and flung me to the floor.
The beatings continued until the very day he died. It was Christmas Eve and we had gotten into an argument. He threw the phone at my head as I sat at the kitchen table with our children. When I stood up with the intent of ushering the children into their room so they didn’t have to witness the violence about to come, he saw that as a threat. He pushed the kids out of the way and pulled me into the bedroom where he repeatedly slammed my face against the headboard. That was the last time he ever hurt me, as he died in his sleep the next morning. A heart attack at the age of 38 on Christmas Day. I stood over his coffin at the funeral home a few days later, still with bruises down the side of my face.
Never once was I unfaithful to my husband. I loved him deeply, completely, and would’ve hung the moon and stars for him. Years of abuse have stripped me of my self-confidence, my self-esteem, and have shattered my heart and my spirit. I don’t know if I’ll ever fully recover from what he did to me. He’s been dead almost seven years now and I am still learning to forgive him.
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Jean blogs at I am Bluejean Jean.
31 Responses to “Jean”
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Jean, you WILL heal. My story also started like yours….I had never felt safer than when I was in his arms. Telling your story here is a step toward fuller healing. You’ll get there.
I’m really in awe at your story. It makes me furious that there are people who think it’s ok to BEAT their loved ones in such a way. Thank you for sharing, I hope it helps on your road to survival.
Oh, my God. I have never wished death on anyone but I am relieved for you that he is gone. Take care of yourself and help your children.
You are safest when you are STRONG.
Jean, I know how you are feeling. Reading what you wrote above made me think just for a moment that you must have somehow been peeking through my windows about 10-11 years ago. I never cheated either, but that didn’t stop me from getting beaten for it.
I can tell you, as someone that lived through it, that you can heal! I won’t lie and say it is easy or that you will ever forget it, but I will say that healing can happen. You can be happy, and it is perfectly ok for you to want to be and to take steps to be happy.
Having the courage to write your story here is one step to the healing and the happiness that you so greatly deserve!
Hold your head high, lady, you deserve it!
Wow jean .. This story shook me to the bone .. I can not even fathom going through that .. I do not think you realize just HOW strong you are! I am sorry you had to go through such horrid rants and beatings .. Its sad to say but I am so glad that he did die in his sleep that Christmas eve/ morning .. it must have been gods way of intervening and making it stop!
Keep your chin up and know that you ARE an amazing woman and that you can do anything you set your mind to!
- Debbi
Oh Jean, my heart.
People glibly try to make forgiveness sound like an easy thing to achieve; it is a process, so be infinitely patient with yourself as you try to get there.
Jean, you may never learn how to forgive him. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try — not for him, but for yourself. But even if you never reach that point, I think the bigger question is whether or not you’ve forgiven you. It sounds strange I know. Because what did you do that needs forgiving? You were the victim here, not the abuser. And it’s hard to explain, but I think this survivor’s story does a better job of saying it than I ever could.
I hope that you can be as kind to yourself as you were to him. As kind to yourself as he should have been to you. Because that’s how you’ll begin to recover that self that was shattered. Jett’s absolutely right when she says it’s a process. And it’s not a short one. Or an easy one. And in some ways having him die will make that process more difficult even though you’re safe from the beatings now.
You deserve to be respected, to be honored, to be loved. And I hope you find some of that here in these pages. I hope that you’ll keep the words that have been and will be written here with you always. You have the support and the love of this community, even if it’s not made up of people you can reach out and touch.
So when it’s too much, and it feels like you’re about to implode, I hope you’ll be bale to reach out in the dark to one — or all — of us and find that ray of light that keeps you going. Because the world is a better place with gentle spirits like yours in it.
Be well Jean. It takes a long time — sometimes a lifetime — to make it back from the edge of hell. But it’s worth the effort.
Because you’re worth the effort.
My SIL had similar situation, he too died of a heart attach in his sleep. She struggles with it still to this day even with being remarried. I am thankful for this story & will be sending it her way as I can imagine reading a similar story will make her feel less alone in what she went through.
Some people just can’t be left here. I wish more of them would die young.
I cannot imagine such torture. I am so sorry such madness took over your life.
When I read these words from women who have been through so much, inevitably each woman says about living a life with no self-esteem. And I always want to scream and say NO. It was HE WHO HAD NO SELF-ESTEEM. That’s why he beat you. Because he was a needle-dicked nothing and he knew it. He just figured if he kept you bruised you wouldn’t find out too.
Forgive him if you want to, but first forgive yourself for any guilt you feel about this. He definitely wasn’t worth it. And he knew it.
Continue to love yourself, Jean. Love your children. Know that you deserve to be healed of the pain.
My heart is shattered for you, Jean. You are a brave, beautiful woman and you are strong. I am so proud of you.
there are no words to touch where you have been.
.
you are moving from victim to survivor.
i wish you a fast, joyful journey to that safe place.
It’s hard to imagine how someone can justify that kind of behavior on another human being – particularly their own wife. It’s a kind of evil I can’t comprehend. You may not believe it, but his death was a blessing for you and your children.
Jean,
Thank you for sharing your story. I watched the beatings you described happen to my mother. Never expecting that my turn was coming. I grew up believing that rage & beatings were the norm. Forgiveness is easy for those who haven’t been there to say you should do it. But coming from the nightmare, I can honestly say it’s a process. Something that is done a little at a time. two steps forward and one step back. I have been told that the road to forgiveness is a journey of a million steps. And you have obviously taken the first step.
Thank you to everyone who posted a comment here. Mere words cannot express how much I appreciate your kindness and support. I now walk with my head held a little higher, and my heart doesn’t feel nearly as heavy anymore!
Jean
I started crying almost right away. You are a very powerful writer. Thank you for sharing.
I agree with Debbi, that there was some more divine force at work with your husband’s death. I wish you the best of luck forgiving him – but more importantly, yourself.
this leaves me without words. i am amazed at what you have been through and at the strength it takes to survive a marriage like this. you are an amazing woman.
hugs to you and your kids,
Thank you for sharing your story and your heart with us. I know you will heal, forgive him, and that your self esteem will return. In time, with gentleness to you by your own self, and by others. I am so, so sorry you endured those things, but so happy that you are FREE.
Well done for having the courage to share your story.
Love yourself and love your children, and don’t let them repeat your history. Definitely do all of that. Definitely let yourself move on and move past what happened to you. Definitely forgive yourself.
As to forgiving him? I wouldn’t worry too much about that. Why does he deserve forgiveness?
After re-reading all the comments I feel compelled to post again on the subject of forgiveness. I’d like to point out that I do not condone any act of violence against any living being. During my ordeal I was CONSUMED (operative word!) with anger, resentment, sadness, mistrust, even hate. Each of those is a powerful emotion that, when left unchecked, could cause more damage to my heart, soul, and spirit than any punch ever could. Bruises heal, but emotional scars run much deeper. Those emotions are all still embedded deep within my heart. Learning to forgive my husband for what he did releases those deep-seated emotions little by little, and my goal is to purge my soul of them completely. I believe that only then will I again feel whole. I’m not forgiving him for him; he had to answer for his actions the day the died. I’m forgiving him for me.
Thanks for listening.
Jean
I’m so saddened over your repeated words explaining in your story that you never cheated on him. Almost as if you are repeating to us what you said to him for years.
I believe you.
Wishing you much love and light on your journey through healing.
(((u)))
“I now walk with my head held a little higher, and my heart doesn’t feel nearly as heavy anymore!” Wow, Jean. That’s so good to see. I’m glad you found your way here. Thank you so much for having the courage to survive (not only for you but for your kids) and to share your story.
Jean – I’m not sure it’s your husband that needs forgiveness. Or even deserves forgiveness. You need to forgive yourself. You did nothing wrong. You did the best you could with the knowledge and resources you had at the time. You loved him unconditionally and he cowardly took out his insecurities on you.
Are you familiar with Grace Davis? She is a fantastic blogger who has spoken very candidly about forgiveness after the abuse she suffered as a child. At BlogHer this year she read a portion of a post she wrote about forgiving yourself. It’s an extremely emotional and powerful piece. If you’d like go read it and watch her speak. It may help bring you peace.
http://gracedavis.typepad.com/i_am_dr_lauras_worst_nigh/2009/07/blogher-09-my-community-keynote-reading.html
I wish you luck in your journey of forgiveness. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to be strong. You deserve to be confident. I have faith that you will get there.
. I grew up in that kind of home so I know what it’s like to be the child. The best thing that happened is that he was taken out of you and your children’s life. I was sexually and mentally abused by adult men as I was growing up. It helped me to talk about it even though I came under fire from other people who said it wasn’t “appropriate” to talk about. I grew up feeling like it was my fault. It is BRAVERY that helps us speak out !!! Love you my friend. I had no idea.
I don’t understand… you love him? You want to forgive him? I am sorry… how?
Suni’s questions do not surprise me. It is very difficult for anyone who has not lived in such an abusive situation as Jean’s or any other’s posted here to understand how the victim can say she loves her abuser. I was in a dating relationship with my abuser and the situation was very similar to Jean’s. Often it was as though I disregarded myself and my feelings and felt so deeply for him. For the pain and insecurity he lived, for the hopes and dreams he had but were unable to accomplish. Not to excuse his behavior, but a mental disorder was a significant contributor to his behavior. This made my heart ache for him because I really felt he wanted to achieve good things, he did not want to be jealous, he did not want to constantly accuse me, yet there were circumstances beyond his control. He needed/needs help. And so yes, I loved him. I loved the good in him when he was able to be good, and I grieved when he was not able to be good.
Jean, I also totally understand what you mean about needing to forgive him so that you can purge your soul of the feelings of “anger, resentment, sadness, mistrust, even hate.” If you don’t, he will always have control and that must stop. It is definitely a journey, very much like the grief process. It cannot be rushed, but must be lived through. Some days are good, some are bad. But what matters is that you continue to move forward. Hugs to you!
I am so, so sorry for all the pain you have experienced and I pray that you will find healing. You are worthy and beautiful and loved and you have survived – you will heal.
Suni’s questions do not surprise me, either. Yes, I love him. Always did, always will. And yes, I want to forgive him. I NEED to forgive him. Not for him, but for me. As I mentioned in a previous comment, those feelings of anger, sadness, resentment, etc. have taken up residence in my heart. I cannot, will not, live the rest of my life holding on to them. As a very dear friend recently said to me, this is an emotional release and a new freedom. Suni may not understand, but I understand perfectly.
My heart aches for all you suffered and I am glad you are finding the strength to forgive.