Archive for category emotional abuse

Screaming Inside, Does Anyone Hear?

I feel like screaming right now.  How can a good evening turn sour so quickly?  Tonight, after dinner, I sat on the couch cuddling with LittleG as EmCee sat in the kitchen entertaining his long time friend, Dee.  (All names have been changed to protect identities).  It was just past bedtime for LittleG and of course, the rowdiness kicks in – climbing on me, pulling my hair, tickling me – all in the name of fun – you know the last dance before the evening ends.  So EmCee begins to walk past the TV as in saying (time for bed), and LittleG goofing around says, “I can push you.” and so he does… and EmCee says “Oh yea, well I can walk right through you.”

And so he does, only he accidentally knocks LittleG into the wooden and glass coffee table and LittleG’s head hits it so hard, I flew off the couch to carry him to the kitchen for an ice pack – immediately.

But no sooner than I can get my hands on ice, LittleG is screaming, “You don’t care about me.  No one cares about me.  My family doesn’t care about me, my friends don’t care about me.”

He goes running upstairs, but before he goes completely up, he pokes his head over the banister, “When I get older, I’m gonna blame you, like you blame me for everything.”

Words of a child.  Not my words, even though later on, EmCee firmly stated to me that the only way a child would say that is if he heard it from me.  No, my dear, EmCee, don’t be fooled by a child’s ability to perceive.  He’s not dumb, nor is he stupid.  He is quite smart and very well aware that you, EmCee, blame everything on everyone, but yourself.

It’s time to look in a mirror, EmCee.

After I comfort LittleG upstairs and finally get him to bed, I am fuming.  Sure it was an accident, but EmCee’s behavior last night combined with tonight, was just a bit too much for me to take.  So I broke.

But here’s a quick run down of last night (2/3/11) that kind of prompted tonight’s battle:

Last night, I called EmCee from the car and said, “I’m making meatloaf, mashed potatoes and carrots for dinner, is that alright?”

EmCee: “Why don’t you make meatballs and spaghetti?”  (His favorite thing, but he would eat a whole box of spaghetti himself if i let him).

LittleG: But I want meatloaf!

EmCee: But you don’t eat meatloaf.

LittleG: But Mommy says it tastes like meatballs.

Me, to EmCee:  It’s easier if I make meatloaf, its quicker.  It’s late already and I have to pick up your mom.  If I have to run to the store to get basil and sauce, its going to be very late by the time dinner is ready.  Besides, I thought you liked meatloaf?

EmCee: “Fine, but make meatballs tomorrow when Dee comes over.”

(Sounds good so far right??”

At the dinner table:

EmCee sees LittleG picking at his meatloaf, “What’s the matter LittleG?”

LittleG: “Nothing” (quietly)

a few moments later, LittleG: “Mommy, this meatloaf tastes sour.”

Me: “Ok let me taste it.”  (I taste it) “Its not sour, LittleG, that’s the way it tastes.”

LittleG: Well, I don’t like it.

EmCee: “You ruined my dinner.  You RUINED dinner for everyone.  It’s all because of YOU that Mommy made meatloaf. I wanted spaghetti.” (In his condescending, I am God tone).

How childish, EmCee is.  I made EmCee apologize for his comment almost immediately, I refuse to sit there and watch my son be treated like that.  I told him that just because LittleG is 6, doesn’t mean he doesn’t have feelings.  EmCee reluctantly apologized.  It wasn’t until nearly midnight that EmCee told me that he realized he was wrong.  But I don’t think EmCee actually understands the degree his words can scar LittleG.

Tonight, after bed.

I explained to EmCee that his words scar LittleG and I can’t take it anymore.  I tell him that for 2 years we have been going on like this and its not improving.  That I’m not happy.  That we are two different people.  That he would be happier with someone else to fuck.  That I am not the same person anymore, I have changed.  That I can’t take that every night there is an argument or a disagreement in the house.  That I have to walk on eggshells to know if he’s in a good or bad mood.  That I have to tell LittleG “Don’t do that, you may get Daddy angry.” That his temper can change on a drop of a dime, and we have to be little soldiers or he gets upset.

I told him “I will not tolerate your abuse anymore!”

“Well if you only played by the rules, I wouldn’t get upset.”

“Exactly, but who defines those rules?  You do.  You make the rules and we all have to abide by them.  If I want to go to yoga, you talk me out of it, if I want to go to the mall, I can’t go alone.  If I want to go out with my friends, you tell them just to stay here. Who makes these rules, I don’t”

“Well you don’t listen to me anyway… (goes off on a tirade of how he gives me all these “freedoms”, how he is a good father and always takes care of Gabe when I’m not around, etc…)

“EmCee I’m pointing out issues we are having.  Instead of acknowledging them and trying to resolve them, once again, you are pointing out things LittleG and I do.  You’re circumventing the real issues here.  Why don’t you just take responsibility for once?”

“I don’t have any issues, but you do.  Go sow your wild oats, go have your freedom and find yourself.  If that’s what you want, just do it.  Leave.  As a matter of fact I’ll help you pack up.  But be careful what you wish for.”

“Be careful what I wish for?  That sounds like a threat.”

“No, that’s not a threat, just be careful what you wish for.  But you’re going to regret it.  You’re going to regret leaving me.  This is a big mistake.”

(At this point, he takes his computer, and says goodnight and begins to walk upstairs)

“Are you just going to leave and not finish this discussion?”

“There’s nothing to discuss, I am done.  You’re going to regret it.”

“But you won’t even acknowledge the issues or talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.

(I follow him upstairs and he takes LittleG to the potty.  I get LittleG into his pajamas and EmCee proceeds to put headphones on and go to sleep.  The conversation is done.)

What I realized tonight, is that all I ever wanted was for him to acknowledge his mistakes.  But tonight, I realized he never will.  He will never accept responsibility for his actions or words.  And if that’s the case, there is nothing else I can do, except move on.

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You’re Ruining My Life

I confessed to the girls at work the other day, why I am in such a miserable and often bitchy mood so often.  Hearing the words come out of my mouth, I thought to myself, what I am saying sounds awful.  It sounds abusive.  It just sounds so wrong.  It brought one of my co-workers to tears, she couldn’t believe I was going through so much crap at home (I tend to hide things pretty well).  But I got the support I needed, I heard the things I needed to hear.

“If you don’t get away now, LittleG is going to blame you for the rest of his life for not protecting him.”

“If you don’t get away, LittleG is going to turn into his father.”

“If you don’t get away, you are ruining your chance of ever being happy.”

“If you don’t get away, things are going to get worse.  They never get better, e.  They never do.”

I know they are right, but in the end, I still make excuses in my head.

I have an appointment with a lawyer tomorrow.  I’ve tried twice to schedule this appointment but due to the crappy weather we are having in the Northeast, I had to cancel and reschedule twice.  (Actually, the first time he decided to stay home from work and I couldn’t just disappear for 3 hours – no way for me to justify my actions to him).  And then I realized, no matter what I do, I have to check in with him.  No matter where I go, he needs to know.  Sounds a bit control-freak, no?  But in honest and open relationships, wouldn’t you call your partner and tell them, “Hey, I’m going to yoga after work.”  I mean you wouldn’t just disappear, would you?  No, common sense says that you would call so as not to worry.

But here’s the catch.  ‘Hey, I’m going to go to yoga after work.” His response, “Do you really have to go?  Why don’t you take the night off, you’ve worked all day.”  (Yea, and that’s why I need yoga.  Oh, and it would keep me out of the house for another hour or two away from you.)

So I was thinking, what exactly do I tell this lawyer.  Of course I should explain why I want a divorce,  but I don’t want it to get messy.  I am the type of person that always says, “Why can’t we all just get along?”  But I know, I have to fight fire with fire and I have to bring out the big guns to get away from him.  But I don’t in my heart, want to air out all of our dirty laundry and I don’t want to claim the mental/physical/emotional abuse and sexual demands.  I just don’t want to.  But in the end, I know that unless he agrees to a clean and divided asset break, this is going to get ugly and it will go to the court system.

And I know I need this conference tomorrow so I know how to proceed in the future.  The future being less than 6 months away.  It’s kind of scary, thinking about it.  I have never lived on my own, I have always lived with someone (be it my family, then my roommate, then EmCee.) Will I be able to financially afford it?  Yes, if I can keep our business.  If not, I will be broke.  But I will survive.  I have to survive.  I have LittleG to protect.  I can’t have him ever tell me, “Mom, You’re Ruining My Life!” Because I want him to be happy, healthy and feel loved.

Updates on EmCee’s outrageous behaviors:

  • EmCee has been up to his old tricks since my last post.  He’s indulged himself in 250.00 ice skates (because we were going skating and he refuses to rent skates).  I walked out of the store just when it was time to purchase, saying I wanted a cigarette.  It was my way of playing his game so I didn’t have to pay.  Screw him, let him foot the bill.  Only problem is he didn’t pay any bill, he used the company credit card to pay for his skates.  And when we got to the ice rink, he took one run around it and complained his back hurt.  Oh boo, hoo.  Maybe if you didn’t weight 300 pounds it wouldn’t hurt.  Poor LittleG didn’t even get a chance to learn to skate because we were rushed home so quickly. And I’m sure we will never see those $250 dollar skates ever again.  That’s some expensive “rental”.
  • Last night, the water pipe to the fridge decided it was going not to work.  EmCee decided he was going to investigate it and open it, and didn’t even move any of my papers out from underneath. (One of my home office desks sits under it).  My books and study material got soaked and LittleG’s art supplies did as well.  I barked, “Would it have hurt you to have moved my desk over 12 inches?  Or you could have asked me to do it.”  (The desk is only about 10 pounds, really lightweight, there’s nothing on it but a few notebooks and papers).  Just shows you how inconsiderate he is.
  • Not to mention how many arguments he’s gotten into with LittleG.  I keep reminding him to stop dropping the F-bomb when he speaks to our son.  Our son is 6, not an adult and deserves to be treated like a 6 year old and with respect.
  • To piggy back on the LittleG arguments, LittleG got his report card on Friday.  All A’s and A+’s! I was so very proud of him!  But in the comments section I see, “LittleG is a very bright young man.  However his behavior in class is often disruptive to other students and at times is disrespectful.”  Gee, I wonder why, let’s see …maybe its because he has learned first hand from his father that it’s ok to be a disrespectful, demanding person.  So now I have a conference with the teacher this week.  I’m debating on whether or not to let her in on what is going to happen by the summer time.
  • Last night our 19 year old employee posts to her FB a picture of a doughnut and hot cocoa from Dunkin’.  In the background there were the words (DD’s advertising for their chocolate lover’s month) “Reverse Boston Kreme”  – I made the comment, oh I love what it says in the background … it’s priceless! lol  Well EmCee saw that I posted on her picture and decided to make a comment of his own.  “Reverse Boston Kreme, I have stories about that, I know firsthand about Reverse Boston Kreme.”  The thing is, its one thing when you are in the office and joking with the girls.  Yes, its no surprise, we girls giggle about sex and guys.  It’s a completely other thing when your 42 yr old male boss makes a sexual innuendo on your personal FB page.  I told EmCee his comment was not appropriate, and told him to delete it before it was posted.  He deletes it and writes something to the effect of, “I had a really great comment on Reverse Boston Kreme, but I was scolded by my wife and was made to remove it.”  Real childish.  The girl writes back, “Do I really want to know?”  EmCee posts back, “No”.  Because honestly she didn’t, that would have been creepy.  But he is creepy, in the perverted sense, you know?
  • A few nights ago, he told me to “Go Fuck Myself” and in case you don’t remember the post back in November when I told him the exact same thing, his response to me was “You’re going to regret it you fucking cunt.”  Well when he said it to me, I turned around and told him the same thing, “You better watch your mouth or your going to regret it.”
  • Feisty I am.  I’m learning not to take his shit anymore.  Tonight, he looks at me and says over dinner, “You know you haven’t been too nice to me lately.” No that’s right I haven’t I’m tired of your shit, because you EmCee, you’re ruining my life!!! And I’m not going to take it anymore!

So, I have had it with him.  I’m learning to stand up for myself.  I will not tolerate living with someone like him.  I caught myself the other night, I actually sat on the opposite end of the couch – all the way away from him! I usually sit next to him.  I also haven’t been calling him as much during the day and I’ve been spending a lot more time in our office location, just so I don’t have to see him.  LittleG too, also asks to come to the office with me afterschool even when his Dad is home working, because he doesn’t want to hear EmCee’s mouth.

A change is coming, but not soon enough!

 

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Piece of Ass

Now, don’t get me wrong, I am definitely not a prude.  If someone was to call me a “piece of ass” I’d take it as a compliment, because your average 20-40 year old guy probably uses the term more often than not, and not in a derogatory way – its just merely a way of them saying that  the woman who has caught their eye – is sexy.   But there is a time and a place for everything, and there is also a way of saying it that can turn a simple phrase into something vulgar and disgusting.

EmCee has a way of offending me with his comments.  Deep down in my heart, I know that’s just the way he is – as my dear (deceased) grandmother would say, “He’s crude, rude and uncouth.”  (Mind, you she never met EmCee, but I know that famous phrase of hers would have been uttered if she met him).

So EmCee is a little rough around the edges sometimes.  I know he doesn’t always mean what he says.  I know he’s not the roses and romance type.  I knew this when I married him.

But after nearly 10 years of being together, you would think he would know me well enough to know what to say to get laid.

Tuesday night (Jan 18, 2011) I was watching TV, one of my favorite shows, The Good Wife.  After it was over EmCee starts flipping through the DVR and puts on the Playboy show Foursome.  I sit idly by, on the couch, watching not for the sex, but gawking at the stupidity of the episode’s cast.  After that show finished, EmCee pulls out a bag full of porn videos (that he picked up from his friend) and proceeds to put one in.

I start to doze off on the couch, after all it’s nearly 1 am and I was tired from working all day (and subsequently doing the household chores, dinner, homework and such).  But God forbid, I tell EmCee I am tired and want to go to sleep, he pouts like a 2 year old.

At 1:30 am as I am napping (I wouldn’t call it sleep), I get woken up, “Let me see that ass of yours.”

Excuse me?  The mere words disgust me.  Now, I understand every couple has 3 stages of sex – fucking (when you just have to have your partner for a quick romp), sex (when you just want sex and you love your partner) and making love (you know the soft sweet, kiss you all night, caress you and whisper sweet nothings in your ear).   Mind you, EmCee has only 1 version of sex in his repertoire – and that’s fucking.

Usually, our sex session will consist of: EmCee expecting a blow job – a blow job is his idea of foreplay and he gives nothing in return to arouse me or get me interested.  After he gets a little head, he then expects to fuck and everytime he tries to have anal sex with me (which at this point, I flat out refuse to give into).  Once he’s done fucking me and is ready to “bust a nut” (as he so eloquently calls it) he pulls out, cums on some body part and then walks out to clean himself up.

While I am left in the bed, unfulfilled, unsatisfied and left holding the vibrator to please myself.  That’s just a saying, not that I’m using a vibrator while he fucks me (I’m usually just praying that he finishes up quickly), but the point is, if I want to orgasm, at this point, I need to use a vibrator because EmCee is done “working”.  He will then lay on the bed, smoke a cigarette and watch TV ignoring me.

So then what’s the point of me having sex with him?  Give me one good reason why, I should have sex with him, when sex is a one way street?

And I’ve told him, time and time again, if you want to get me interested, why don’t you initiate sex, you know, touch me, talk to me, kiss me, go down on me (oral sex), do something … just don’t expect me to give you a blow job and get in the mood without even warming me up!  His response usually is, well I kiss you and you pull away, I try to touch you and you don’t like it, I’ve tried to give you oral sex and you don’t like it.

Yes, EmCee that’s because your level of enthusiasm for doing any of those things is rated at a -10 (negative).  You don’t put any effort into it.  I think you rather eat a bowl of spaghetti than touch me or try to arouse me.

So when EmCee tells me, “Let me see that ass of yours.” It’s no wonder why I am unresponsive.  Whenever we have sex it’s not pleasurable for me.  It’s boring, routine and quite frankly, I feel that I am just being used.  That’s not love.  Maybe in his head that’s love, but it’s not for me, not anymore.  I refuse to be used as a “Piece of Ass.”

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