To Wife-Beaters Everywhere

If the idea of wishing another human life to be taken from this world has ever entered your thoughts, you cannot, must not be alone.



I can hardly believe that I am the only person who has seriously considered the slow and painful death of someone she once loved. For twenty-five years, as a matter of fact. Sure, I see the same undercover shows on television that you do. You know, the ones with the hidden cameras, undercover cops in a parking lot or in some sleazy hotel room. I once watched these shows in awe and disbelief that people could be so cold, so matter-of-fact about being responsible for removing a soul from existence. But, they weren’t like me. For whatever reason, they were not functioning on the same level of existence as those of us who had one foot, at least, planted in reality. These people were either too rich or too poor. Too dumb or too greedy. Too ugly or too beautiful. Too fat or too skinny. Too much not like me - just an average woman with an average life with average challenges and joys. Until a few months ago. 



Sometimes life really is great, but sometimes our non-objective perception of life is in the way of the painful reality of it. As for my perception, it was horribly clouded by what I wanted my reality to be. Denial is a great defense mechanism until it gets in the way of staying out of  harm’s way. I have come to the stark realization over the last few months that I have been in denial for a very long time. Years, even.



Seven months ago, my husband beat me so badly that I still cannot sit normally, nor can I do anything physical like run or go to the gym or even go for a long walk. This was not the norm in our family, but it had happened twice before in the last seven years, so it really didn’t come as a huge surprise. What was a surprise was just how bad the beat down was compared to the previous two times during which he basically just left some bruises and sore ribs. This time, not only did he break my tailbone and do some serious damage to that whole area, he managed to rip out about half the hair on my head, and I’m pretty sure he left me with a concussion  from slamming my head into the railing on the stairs, as well as into the wall. Oh yeah, there were quite a few kicks to my head too, so I’m not sure what exactly left the most damage.



And just what horrible sin had I committed to deserve such punishment? Well, I had actually left out to run an errand, run into a friend and decided to have a few drinks, which turned into a few more, and by the time I arrived home, I was pretty much wasted. So apparently, making the mistake of having too many drinks with a friend rates up there on the scale of punishment to require a horrific beating. This from the man who spent the last twelve years of his apparently miserable life drinking anything he could get his hands on every day starting around 7 p.m. until 2 a.m. The weekends were even more fun. Friday it would begin at about 6 or 7, and wouldn’t end until Monday morning around 1 or 2. From Friday evening until Monday morning he would only leave his bed to eat, get more to drink, or to go to the bathroom. So, I guess staying at home getting blotto isn’t sinful, but going out with a friend to avoid this wonderful life I had was punishable by death. Yes, death. The next day, he made sure to let me know how hard it was to keep from killing me when he had choked me until my body went limp. Then he made sure to make it clear that he wished he had gone through with it and the next time he probably would.



So, did I learn my lesson? Nope. I still drink too much on occasion, so the lesson didn’t really take. So take that as a clue wife-beaters everywhere: beating her will not teach your woman a thing. She will still make the same mistakes that deserve your punishment. She may just get a little better at hiding or covering up those things she knows will incite your wrath, but she will never live every moment the way you think she should. So how about you mix it up a bit, get over your insane control and ego issues, go see a therapist and try not to make everyone around you as miserable as you are. Hopefully she will find the strength within herself to pick herself up and leave your sorry ass. I finally did. And I won’t be going back. I may never be able to run again, but at least he didn’t damage me so badly that I couldn’t walk away.



So although I occasionally have fleeting thoughts of having him ”offed”, I’ll leave that to the idiots who manage to end up on t.v. and then in prison for attempting to follow through with those thoughts. It is enough for me to know that he must live with what he has done to my body, probably permanently. He can’t begin to know the damage he has done to my soul and spirit, but he will never have the love of his life back.