I grew up under the poverty line, some may say on the wrong side of the tracks, under the love and care of a single mother who made it her mission to raise her two children to the best of her ability. It was a happy childhood free from abuse of any kind and although we were poor I can’t say life was that bad. I was “gifted” from a very young age and always watched people around me like a hawk. Although I received no formal education I became very adept at human psychology watching the swirling dysfunction in the lives of people around me.
I have witnessed so many women in relationships with absolutely horrible men, sometimes for decades. Although intellectually I had always understood Battered Wife Syndrome, Stockholm Syndrome, and all the other syndromes, I still couldn’t quite comprehend why some of them would stay. Sometimes they’d be with men who seemed to make it their mission to tear them down, to verbally berate them, to punish them for existing, to convince them they were dirt. Other times the abuse was more subtle but no less emotionally damaging like being constantly manipulated, used, or gaslighted, and at the far end of the spectrum were those woman who suffered all that as well as physical abuse. Two women I knew had stories that shook me to the core. The first was in a relationship with the father of her now grown children. He had paranoid schitzophrenia but far more dangerous than that he was an absolute asshole, no mental illness required there. My mother tried for decades to get her away from this man as he was abusive in all ways and to make matters worse she was also the sole breadwinner for the family. The relationship ended when she found herself dragged to Florida from her home in Maine. In some shitty motel room he made her do jumping jacks for twenty-four hours straight. She knew if she didn’t comply he’d kill her this time. When he fell asleep she slipped out the door and escaped back home. He woke up, noticed her missing, and thought he’d killed her. He turned himself into the police. Though she’s been free of him for several years now she still talks to him… and he’s still in the lives of all three of their adult children. It’s mind boggling.
The second incidence was with a younger woman, in her twenties. She was involved with another complete asshole. Their relationship ended when she threw herself out of a car going eighty-four miles an hour because she believed that was her best choice for survival. He was throttling the gas going ever faster telling her he was going to crash – so she leapt out and rolled down the embankment aside the road breaking nearly every bone in her body. He left her there as he sped off. Against all odds she survived and broke up with his miserable ass but not before he came to visit her at the hospital – with an engagement ring in hand.
Having witnessed all this I always wondered what made woman stay with these jerks. I mean what could they possibly offer?! What kind of life could they be having when every movement is controlled by some prick?
I remember when I was young I used to believe everyone could be redeemed, no matter how many shitty things they had done in their life, as long as they put the effort into changing for the better. It was a comforting humanistic view. It also bit me in the ass over and over again as I started to collect people in my life who had severe mental illness, were just downright bastards, or for whatever reason just wanted to fuck with me. Over time I cut the toxic people out of my life like a surgeon removes a cancerous tumor and I was better for it but there was one person I couldn’t quite get rid of and it was me.
You see I live with chronic physical pain that limits a great deal of what I can do. On good days I am fine and can do anything within reason. On bad days I lay in bed wishing someone would have the decency to put me out of my misery. The worse part of it all is it’s pretty random most of the time. Eventually I came to realize my body was no less of a bastard than the men I spoke of above. It punished me at random for things I should never be punished for (like moving, not getting enough sleep, or eating.) It controlled everything I did – I’d avoid certain activities, certain foods, certain situations, all in the hope it wouldn’t come down on me. It isolated me – I couldn’t function in a normal life having a job and friends besides. And worse of all it when it couldn’t gaslight me it convinced me to do the gaslighting on myself!
Gaslighting is when someone questions your sanity to make you look like you’re the crazy one when you’re clearly not. It’s a vindictive, cruel, controlling, and emotionally damning thing. I have no respect for anyone who uses it on anyone else and yet I do it… to myself. When you look perfectly healthy people feel obliged to tell you so and then some go farther to say, “You can get over this thing! Surely it’s not that bad!” Or sometimes they think I am some sort of welfare queen trying to get a free and easy life off the hard work of others and will tell me as much. And since my illness started in my teens I had doctors telling me my pains were psychological, I just wasn’t ready to leave the nest or deal with the stresses in my life, that all I needed to do was learn how to get my shit together and everything would be fine. Although I know all of these statement are at best ignorant and at worst malicious it’s still hard not to internalize them and when that happens I find myself questioning my own reality. Well maybe it is just depression. Well maybe if I do just take vitamins and a walk every day I can change my life around. Maybe I am just being overly dramatic. This is the worst thing of all. You are your own worst enemy. With every thought like this I would beat myself up. It’s basically like repeating that you’re not good enough for anything over and over. It’s a wonder how I have any self esteem left. And even when I realize these things the hard truth is I can’t break up with my body. It’s here to stay whether I want it to or not.
I don’t question myself anymore but it took me thirty-some-odd years to accomplish this level of self awareness and confidence. My struggles are real. I’m not saying they’re worse than anyone else’s struggles, I am not joining some huge pity party, I am merely taking responsibility for my own reality and owning my own life. Are there days I wish I could just wake up fine and carry on? Of course, that’d probably be every morning, but I do the best I can and have learned that is as far as I can go. It’s not fair in any regard but fighting through internalized psychological warfare isn’t going to help anyone, especially myself.