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marriage counseling and fixing whats not right:

My husband and self, both have many-yet different-emotional scars from our own childhoods.

Sometimes these differences really tear us apart.

I have my reasons-which i will not disclose here-(read my memoirs recalled madness: a personal account of manic-depressive illness by Emily Sturgill 2013-available off Amazon.com for more specific details-)

Anyways, i have my reasons, that

if somebody physical grabs me in anger or is violent at all,

during an argument, i will pretty much cut that person out of my life completely.

If that sounds insane or extreme, I apologize.

However, it is based on how i was raised-that a man should never hit a woman,

nor lay his hands upon her, while in a state of anger/violence.

This is a well-known trigger of mine, that my husband,

has mistakenly set off on separate occasions.

For his part- part of his past were living with parents,

who argued/screamed and yelled everyday.

Thus, his trigger is arguing. When and if we argue,

and he feels bad enough to yell or scream - he tries to grab me,

and force me to listen.

The intimidation of being grabbed

in anger really sets me off,

i never call the police or press charges.

i simply go into flight or flee mode.

i pack my shit and leave.

persons without a history,

of childhood abuse, physical violence,

in my case both parents equally were messed up

until 7th grade when my Dad sought therapy.

My mom did not go into therapy until i was 18.

So i don't even wanna go there-she was also bipolar.

She is the one, i take the most after.

Dad had OCD among other issues.

But after he got got help, things were better

for a time-at least better he and I.

Mom was another story entirely.

Anyways, about 2 weeks ago,

i was feeling threatened physically by my husband,

so after discussion with 4 different older strong women

in my life i decided to go stay at

a battered woman's shelter.

Because today is the 2 year anniversary

of our wedding and because he apologized

between 5-7 times, i agreed to comeback home.

its a work in progress.

but im hopeful , since he's agreed

to attend therapy his own self-

and face some of his own inner demons.

the hidden truth

May 28, 2013 by sexinthekitchensink in Abused-wife, criminal behaviors, depression, family, finding shelter, husbands, illness, infertility, loss of a parent, love, manias, manic-depression, marriages, memoirs, men are from mars, men vs women, mental-illness, mother-in-laws, negativity, pain, parents, poem-therapy and tagged secrets, lies, trouble, abusive-men, evil, submission, dominance, ugly-truth | Permalink

the hidden truth,
is that which haunts me…
everybody thought we were the perfect happy couple…
and I? how could I explain to our friends-our loved ones-
about The Dark Times….
about the hidden Truth?
That i married a classic-type of abuser.
That my beloved husband,
who i “loved” dearly was not only less than ideal,
but i was paranoid fearful of his anger. Of his angry outbursts.
That frequently, i felt unsafe, even during lovemaking.
I was scared he may attempt to kill me.
And i do not know why.
the fear seemed irrational, like another delusion of my bipolar mind.
Until a day two weeks ago where he admitted to “fantasies”?? I’m not sure what you would call then,”ideas” or “plans”?
That if his life ever got bad enough, he would fall back on the notion
of a murder-suicide.
by the way by murder-he meant me specifically and suicide
i guess was for him-not only was this a horrifying thing to say to the one woman who loves you-
it also helped me reach the realization, i was in constant danger.

I’ve been hiding out at a battered woman’s shelter.
i finally feel safe again.
it took some skill even in getting here because i had no money and no car.
but i finally made it Saturday afternoon.

I blame myself for not leaving sooner.
but in oh-too-many ways it was easier to stay.

i am grateful now, for my infertility issues.
that saves me from a lifetime of interaction
with a husband who is crazy.

I am so very devastated-that it had to-end this way,
but it was only getting worse.  Now i am facing loved ones with the Hidden Truth.
they do not understand how hard it is to admit….you are a victim.
that somebody scares you half to death.
that this man you “loved” is merely a shadow of his true self,
the side made up of complete anger and irrational darkness.

love hurt sometimes...

It should not,
but love hurts sometimes.

and sometimes it hurts you badly,
broken,bruised and battered;
ego lying broken
shardsof glass upon a floor.

but wait, there's more...
as a domestic abuser-
they will insist to everything that
theycan to guilttrip you into staying,

Guess what?
The answer is simple..Love itself-
it should not fell like the terror of Hell.

Love itself does not control your everything,
Love may help you if it is true-
However if Loves leaves you

black and very blue,
crumpled on, a floor-
telling you everything you do/or have done,
to push your man-(or woman)-your abuser into
attacking you, verbally, physically or worse-

Then thre is a chance of domestic abuse.

If you are in that scenario, im sorry dear,
but itis'nt love,
it isactually war.

So  packed yoursef a bag,
and getthe heck out.
That's the only choice you have left

Saving some Sanity for a Rainy Day

Saving Grace,
maintaining hope..in the face of terror.
realizing much too late,
what a fool i have been.

Sometimes, you learn
somehow, somewhere along the way-
to make excuses-
for somebody else's bad behavior.

You try to justify irrational
things which do not make sense,
by placing the blame entirely on
your own shoulders.

You tell yourself, that Love-
is everything, the only thing which matters...
And that he must "love" you-
he takes care of "you".
(but really he actually control you, and everything you do, and everywhere you go.)

Saving Grace-
an abuser is always so
"sorry" he hurt you,
that he promises never again.

and you wish this to be true.
you wish it with your entire
whole and stupid eager heart.

the heart he breaks and rips apart,
with just one more angry glance.
just one more dirty angry look too many.

and a new day dawns.
you come to a realization,
that maybe it is not entirely all your
fault-perhaps he has demons of his own.

ones he refuses to run down and face.
maybe, you are not always the crazy one?
maybe, you have more resources than you think.
maybe, you have more friends and family that may help you.

maybe they can help you
to help yourself
to save some shred of sanity,
to just save some sanity for
a rainy day.

Life is messy too; not just artwork by Emily Sturgill

Life is messy too.

Not just Artwork, self-expression, painting, drawing,sculpture, photography...

writing for example is another messy art;

thinking of things like:

libel,copyrights,slander,plagiarists, tabloid-journalists,badly written poetry,poorly written novels.....writers block.

But Life, on the other hand is frequently a different landscape,

altogether, a big terrain of heavily soiled tears.

disappointments, family feuds, emotional problems,

irrational and faulty logic,

thrown upon you,

like a fistful of sand.

then there are those persons,

who bully,cheat and lie.

Yes, as the saying goes, no one said life was easy.

or if they did, clearly they were mistaken or

simply full of shit.

no, life is a messy place.

A child's hand-prints on the door-frames,

dog-prints on the muddy kitchen floor,

lipstick on a collar,

a cat who shits outside its litter-box.

Changing an baby's dirty diaper.

house-training a puppy-dog.

Telling somebody you love them but...

you do not like living with them anymore?

How do you even do that?

I don't even know.

I passed the ball to my husband.

He is dreading the conversation he

must have with a family member later.

I would not want to bring the subject up my own self-

I'm chicken-little, I don't want to see the sky fall

down.

But Life is very messy.

if it wasn't

i doubt i would love, living half as much.

tired and wore out by Emily Sturgill

Tired and wore out, wore down,

exhausted both mentally and physically-

ill both mentally and physically.

Somethings just not right

i had another panic attack

last night.

the ones where i forget

the simplistic natural art

of breathing in and out.

gasping, groaning, doing

a freak out.

I'm not sure what triggered it??/

a little bit of nothingness-

a whole lot of everything.

Just really starting to feel,

the flip side of the coin

less than ideal.

the side with the sad face,

instead of a smiley happy face.

the sorrow i keep gathered

under my bed of feathers

sorrow breeds depression

while depression breeds discontent,

resulting into an

overabundance of frustrated tears.

I am just hoping,

and praying that /

this time will be different/

please do not let things

remain unhinged.

if they do,

i will surely break again,

right down the middle,

split in half.....

my bipolar skin-case

for all the world to see

to create a mockery

of me and my crazy-train

i rode in on.

but still lingers the sparse flower,

the reddest rose, itself contains

a glimmer of hope

for me to cling onto

yet beware the thorns.

yes, beware the thorns,

beware the thorns.

they are real,

and they make us bleed.