“Puppet, you don’t understand. I love you. I love JJ and we are a family.”
The frustration builds inside me, “we were for a time, but Brett it didn’t work.” The words tumble from my mouth before I can stop them. “You have some demons you need to face. I can’t help you and neither can my son. You have to get healthy.”
Instantly, his tone is sharp. “Oh this is my fault! I told you my expectations. It’s not hard, Josie. You failed to meet my needs. I didn’t give up on us, you did. I simply punished you. A consequence for disobedience. That’s life. Like a child, they fail to do something they are instructed to do there is a punishment. You got what you deserved.”
I push back the tears. I failed. He’s right I did, but not like he means. I failed to pick up the pieces after losing Jonah. I failed to remain clearheaded as I navigated life as a widow. I absolutely failed to see the red flags and run the other way.
“You made a vow to me forever. I didn’t walk out on you. I didn’t change the rules between us, you did. I didn’t do anything but love you, embrace you, and take care of our family. You broke your vows; you brought this pain on us both.”
The guilt consumes me. I have to silently talk myself down. His words don’t have power anymore. I’m not a child; I’m not his child. It is not his responsibility to give me expectations, commands, orders, or any fucking thing! More than that it isn’t his place to punish me!
“You didn’t punish me, Brett. You beat me.” I say the words letting them sink in. It has taken me months to admit this is how bad things were between us. Even now, I can only manage to whisper it. “You abused me, Brett. No one should live in fear of their spouse.”
“You’re afraid of me?” he asks softening his tone. How can he not see it?
As much as it kills me to admit, “yes, I am.”
I want to be the superhero mom who isn’t afraid of anything or anyone. To do that would be to lie, not only to Brett, the world, but most importantly I would be lying to myself.
I am done doing that.
I am done explaining it away.
I am done justifying his behaviors.
I am done accepting his actions.
I am done trying to tell myself, more importantly my son, that this is some type of love.
Love doesn’t hurt.
Full stop. Do not move. Do not pass go. This isn’t a board game of life.
Love does not hurt.
Jonah loved me, his love didn’t hurt. The loss of it, though, destroyed me.
My love for my son doesn’t hurt, I would move mountains for him.
Brett, his love hurts.
It kills emotions.
It crushes my confidence.
It hurts physically.
From all sides, every direction, Brett harms me.
That is not the way to live my life. Most importantly, it is not the life to raise my son in.
I have never experienced domestic violence before. My parents have checked out and lost their minds, sure, but not once did either of them put their hands on me or my sister. I didn’t grow up being talked down to, belittled. I have never once encountered anyone who took pleasure in bringing hurt to another soul. Not like Brett.
He loves my pain. He gets off on it.
After every attack, when the adrenaline slowed, he had to have a release.
Whether I wanted to or not.
