The pain was below my left shoulder, radiating down my left arm and up to my jaw. I ignored it for a few hours and convinced myself it was muscular when I began having shooting pains through the center of my chest. I was at home with my daughters, who were 4 and 8 at the time. Their father was at work downtown, about a 40 minute drive away from home. I didn’t dare call him because I didn’t want him to think I was being a drama queen or making a big deal out of nothing, as had been said before. I successfully fooled myself for a few hours until it eventually became so frightening that I got light-headed and clammy. I decided the smartest thing to do was call 911 and have the paramedics take a look. The smartest thing, yes. Easiest? No. I knew that meant some big bills would potentially come our way and I was not eager to be fussed at about it.
I called 911, talked it over with them, then while waiting for their arrival, I called my neighbor across the street and my dear friend Ann to come get my kids. I think my neighbor made it from his house to mine in 3 leaps, despite being in his 60s. I’m fairly sure Ann broke some sort of land speed record that day and I was grateful for a lack of police presence on her route. Still, I had not called my then-then-husband at work. Even as I was carted off in an ambulance I told Ann she should probably call him to let him know where the kids were, but that she didn’t have to rush about it. I calmly told the kids I would be okay but it was just the smart thing to do to go have a doctor check it out.
Over the years I had a number of health problems that I have now linked to the stress of being in an emotionally, psychologically, sexually and financially abusive relationship and the constant environment of worry and anticipation. I had chest pains, occasional panic attacks, chronic gastrointestinal problems, headaches, sleep issues…and I’m not entirely convinced that my 3 miscarriages weren’t at least partly a result of extreme physical and emotional stress. What made the physical situation even worse was the constant work to keep the horrors of our home life a secret, to put on the pretty family face in public. The shame, the embarrassment, the juggling act to try to keep things calm at home and look nice to the outside world took a huge toll.
Ann told me a few days later (after she calmed down from being furious about it) that when she called my now-ex-then-husband, he angrily said, “Let me understand this. My children saw their mother taken away in an ambulance? Whose idea was THAT?” When he arrived at the hospital, he wasn’t the slightest bit nurturing or concerned, he was mad. He kept commenting on how much the ER bill was going to be as I lay there apologizing. He quizzed the nurses about when I could be released. Fortunately for me, a dear friend from high school turned out to be the charge nurse that day, so I was well informed. As it turned out, they couldn’t find cardiac problems (thank God) but strongly suggested I see a gastroenterologist for possible gall bladder problems. I had to negotiate an appropriate time—financially—to go to the doctor, who ordered a series of tests. It took another month before I had the guts to tell my then-then-husband about the tests and schedule the appointments. When the bill came, I read it, hid it and was nauseous for days until I finally showed it to him. His comment, “Do you know what we could’ve done with this amount of money?” I dunno…Buy you another $1200 watch, a more expensive motorcycle or trade your Mercedes in for a newer model? The gastroenterologist could find no problems with my gall bladder or g.i. tract in general which, to my ex, meant that I was making up the entire thing. In Captain Crazy’s view, I was just a lazy hypochondriac who was trying to get attention and sympathy.
Emotional abuse is about the abuser being more important, in his or her mind, than those around them. It is about the desires and urges of the abuser, who has a completely skewed view of how the world should operate. The worst part is that, as you are desperately trying to hide the fact that you are being abused, you internalize all the pain and anger which will manifest in physical and psychological illness. There is a cost to your life, your happiness and your bank account. It becomes a vicious cycle where you frequently feel too physically ill to participate in things you enjoy doing and you fall more and more under the control of your abuser. I gave up doing many things I enjoyed because I just didn’t have the energy to do them.
Once I escaped my multiply-abusive marriage, I became healthy as a horse, started playing sports again, hiking, kayaking and many other things I love. Although my time is limited by other responsibilities of life, I am not limited by someone else’s influences. I received confirmation that my previous illnesses had been a result of abuse when I had one more episode of severe chest pains followed by faintness and sweating. It was shortly after my ex-then-husband began to threaten to come take my home and sell it out from under my children and me so he could take the money. Although I knew the house had been deeded over to me and his doing that was impossible, I suffered the same reactions as I had before. I knew then that I could never let his vicious attacks, especially now that we were no longer married, take up residence in my body.
Be good to yourself. Nurture your body and your spirit. Find ways to laugh (America’s Funniest Videos never fails me). Pray or meditate. Breathe deeply. Shoot, pound the crap out of the ground with a hammer if you need to. Most of all, don’t forget that you are an awesome creation, of great value and worthy of respect.
Fly free,
AC
I called 911, talked it over with them, then while waiting for their arrival, I called my neighbor across the street and my dear friend Ann to come get my kids. I think my neighbor made it from his house to mine in 3 leaps, despite being in his 60s. I’m fairly sure Ann broke some sort of land speed record that day and I was grateful for a lack of police presence on her route. Still, I had not called my then-then-husband at work. Even as I was carted off in an ambulance I told Ann she should probably call him to let him know where the kids were, but that she didn’t have to rush about it. I calmly told the kids I would be okay but it was just the smart thing to do to go have a doctor check it out.
Over the years I had a number of health problems that I have now linked to the stress of being in an emotionally, psychologically, sexually and financially abusive relationship and the constant environment of worry and anticipation. I had chest pains, occasional panic attacks, chronic gastrointestinal problems, headaches, sleep issues…and I’m not entirely convinced that my 3 miscarriages weren’t at least partly a result of extreme physical and emotional stress. What made the physical situation even worse was the constant work to keep the horrors of our home life a secret, to put on the pretty family face in public. The shame, the embarrassment, the juggling act to try to keep things calm at home and look nice to the outside world took a huge toll.
Ann told me a few days later (after she calmed down from being furious about it) that when she called my now-ex-then-husband, he angrily said, “Let me understand this. My children saw their mother taken away in an ambulance? Whose idea was THAT?” When he arrived at the hospital, he wasn’t the slightest bit nurturing or concerned, he was mad. He kept commenting on how much the ER bill was going to be as I lay there apologizing. He quizzed the nurses about when I could be released. Fortunately for me, a dear friend from high school turned out to be the charge nurse that day, so I was well informed. As it turned out, they couldn’t find cardiac problems (thank God) but strongly suggested I see a gastroenterologist for possible gall bladder problems. I had to negotiate an appropriate time—financially—to go to the doctor, who ordered a series of tests. It took another month before I had the guts to tell my then-then-husband about the tests and schedule the appointments. When the bill came, I read it, hid it and was nauseous for days until I finally showed it to him. His comment, “Do you know what we could’ve done with this amount of money?” I dunno…Buy you another $1200 watch, a more expensive motorcycle or trade your Mercedes in for a newer model? The gastroenterologist could find no problems with my gall bladder or g.i. tract in general which, to my ex, meant that I was making up the entire thing. In Captain Crazy’s view, I was just a lazy hypochondriac who was trying to get attention and sympathy.
Emotional abuse is about the abuser being more important, in his or her mind, than those around them. It is about the desires and urges of the abuser, who has a completely skewed view of how the world should operate. The worst part is that, as you are desperately trying to hide the fact that you are being abused, you internalize all the pain and anger which will manifest in physical and psychological illness. There is a cost to your life, your happiness and your bank account. It becomes a vicious cycle where you frequently feel too physically ill to participate in things you enjoy doing and you fall more and more under the control of your abuser. I gave up doing many things I enjoyed because I just didn’t have the energy to do them.
Once I escaped my multiply-abusive marriage, I became healthy as a horse, started playing sports again, hiking, kayaking and many other things I love. Although my time is limited by other responsibilities of life, I am not limited by someone else’s influences. I received confirmation that my previous illnesses had been a result of abuse when I had one more episode of severe chest pains followed by faintness and sweating. It was shortly after my ex-then-husband began to threaten to come take my home and sell it out from under my children and me so he could take the money. Although I knew the house had been deeded over to me and his doing that was impossible, I suffered the same reactions as I had before. I knew then that I could never let his vicious attacks, especially now that we were no longer married, take up residence in my body.
Be good to yourself. Nurture your body and your spirit. Find ways to laugh (America’s Funniest Videos never fails me). Pray or meditate. Breathe deeply. Shoot, pound the crap out of the ground with a hammer if you need to. Most of all, don’t forget that you are an awesome creation, of great value and worthy of respect.
Fly free,
AC
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