Essay

Inner Power

By: Linda Silfies, 1/15/2012 3:17:01 PM

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Married twenty-five years to an abusive man brought many challenges. At any given moment he could be Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde. My challenges began on my honeymoon.
Over the years rage and violence became more frequent. Simple things would trigger him- like the day we came home from church to find the wood stove had gone out and the house cold. Our breath was a visible white mist as we spoke. Huddled around the butcher block with our winter coats still on, we fixed ours hot dogs while waiting for a nice bed of embers to form. When I reached across in front of him for the ketchup, he threw the bottle across the room and slammed his plate down so hard that everything- hot dogs, onions and relish- flew everywhere.
Over time his verbal abuse stripped me of any sense of well-being, stole my spirit, and depleted me of self-confidence and self-esteem. I always felt inferior- not just t him, but everyone- so much so that I could never give my opinion about anything, it was too risky. I would nod in agreement about everything. My inner power was reduced to a dying ember about to be extinguished. His lies were incessant. He would look you squarely in the eye without blinking and weave stories that would make Ernest Hemingway look like an amateur.
He wasn’t always so indifferent and cruel. He had his warm and fuzzy side too- which is part of what kept me trapped. He’d often come home from work with a bouquet of flowers for me for no apparent reason. In public, he would shower me with affection. All of those “warm and fuzzy” moments, though few and far between, were the nicest part of the marriage. Now that I look back, it really wasn’t much to go on.
His abuse was never just verbal- the physical abuse had escalated as well. There were many occasions when I feared for my life. On one occasion he had me by the throat, squeezing and yelling two inches from my face, the veins in his neck enlarged, exposing the beating of his heart. His nostrils flared like a bull ready to charge, he towered over me snorting and ranting. When I heard crunching in my neck I thought it was all over. He just let go as I slumped to the floor.
On that last occasion, something inside me clicked and I knew that was going to be the very last time he would ever physically or verbally abuse me. From that moment I began to plot my escape. I saved money, applied for schooling out of state, and was accepted to the school and the work-study program. I lived with my mother, which meant an hour’s drive each way, but I didn’t care- it was my road to freedom.
Some changes are a long time coming- but just as sweet. Since then I’ve become stronger, more self-assured and free to be me.

Changes In Life

Becoming the woman you were meant to be

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