Gaslighting

Have you ever made a life choice that went south faster than a six second Vine? I'm not talking about eating gas station sushi, or getting a Japanese character tattoo. I'm talking about gambling on happily ever after with your childhood crush and having it turn into a six-year dance with the devil. Gaslighting was a term I became familiar with only after the uncoupling, and in hindsight, was more insidious than the alcoholism, financial abuse, and opioid addiction that accompanied it. What follows is an abridged telling of a much longer tale.

Like the slow drip of water torture, gaslighting is meant to make you crazy. It happens slowly, almost imperceptibly, over time. By the time you feel mad, it's too late. In the beginning, I was seduced by the thrill of love anew, we've all been there, beaming, glossed over and drooling like a fool, so I thought it was romantic that he wanted to be together all. the. time. I was not allowed to have a job, a car, or an allowance. Instead, he argued that we could make more money together than apart, and encouraged building his home repair business. I had no inkling that answering email, making phone calls, and preparing estimates would morph to include being on the job site full time, fetching tools, and doing heavy lifting. The housekeepers and landscapers were let go and eventually, my responsibilities included all the shopping, cooking, cleaning, and weed pulling. I was literally a one-woman show, which we fought about often. I had NO time to myself and very little time to spend with my children who held sanctuary in the basement. Time limits were put on everything from outings to Target, to saying goodnight. We were all essentially on house arrest for years, walking on eggshells, while he drank himself to sleep every night. After two trips to the ER for acute pancreatitis, he gave up drinking for Loritab. You'd be surprised how easily a protocol for chronic pain can be established. So, many whispered talks of leaving became a call to action after he began snorting his daily dose.

I'm no stranger to failed relationships, or to abusive relationships sadly, so how did I miss the mark with this one? I did everything wrong. I was motivated by fear. I ignored my gut. I moved too quickly. I forced something that was not meant to be out of sheer desperation and a small ray of hope, and as it often goes in abusive relationships, gone very quickly was the charming, generous, loving, captivating man who promised me the moon. He tried to drive a wedge between me and my children, getting so mad at me once because I was in the basement spending time with them, that he punched right through a six panel masonite door. He blamed us for losing random things (keys, pocket knives, combs) that would later turn up out of the blue. He would say horribly mean things under his breath and then deny vehemently that he ever said it. He was never wrong, never apologetic, always negative, complaining, combative, or deflective. Once, during an argument, he tried to make me repeat exactly verbatim everything he had said, which I said was childish, and then he berated me like a child for not listening. The environment was toxic and unbearably stressful. I became a shell of my former self, deeply depressed, and anxious. I had a heart attack scare that landed me in the ER with an overnight stay on the cardiac floor at the local hospital. He didn't come to see me, didn't even call. My girls and I were gone nine months later.

It took the three of us six years of saving birthday checks, Christmas monies and every extra dollar we could to have enough to move. This summer will be two years since we left and it's been a tremendous struggle financially, but I will gladly hone myself against the stone of this hardship every day and give thanks to the Creator that we are free from the asylum we were inhabiting. Every creative molecule in my body was suppressed for six long years. I had to shelve a manuscript for which I was actively trying to find a home. I am excited to say that it is currently under contract for publication! Now that I have the ability to return to my one true love, thoughts come at me like water from a fire-hose. Writing moments, I don't even know where to begin. I am high and emotionally overwhelmed in this space, as joy slowly returns where there once was none. Away from keys, I still struggle with anxiety and depression. I find it difficult to make decisions sometimes. I constantly second guess myself. I hope time, and a second...third...or fourth wind will heal what is broken. My oldest daughter has admitted that she will most likely seek counseling at some point in the future. My younger daughter already has. I frequently reach back and touch my eight-plus years of counseling archived from my second marriage. I'll never marry again. I'll most likely never couple again, rather, I like to muse being the eccentric old woman who regales others with storied lessons of my youth.

Peace!