My Other Abusive Relationship

When I first moved here it was without specific ambition.  I spent the first few months floating around with no certain idea of what I should be doing.  I had met you briefly years ago, and fallen in a childish love.  Since I was not sure what I should be doing, I sought you out, wondering if you’d remember me.  I thought you might be able to help me fulfil my dreams.  For a month I relentlessly pursued you until we finally had the chance to meet face to face.  I was nervous.  I was sure you wouldn’t remember me from our first meeting; I had been just a kid.  I told you what I wanted but you offered me something else.  Desperate, and having no other options, I took it. 

I dearly wanted for thing to work out, but we were not communicating well.  I brought this to your attention and we came up with a solution.  Then things were really good.  I enjoyed my time with you.  You bought me a phone, having paid for my plan ever since, so that we could stay in contact.  We had great conversations.  We laughed together and worked together.  I felt like I was getting things done, and enjoying the process.  But it was like I only knew one side of you and that side left.  You changed and suddenly I felt lonely.  I worked alone, and you didn’t even seem to care what I was doing.  I tried to motivate myself, but I wanted more than anything for you to come alongside of me and tell me I was doing it right.  Even if you had told me I was doing it wrong that would have been better than the silence with which you punished me. 

Then she came along.  I am sure she was quite nice, but I could never overcome my jealousy and befriend her.  She was needy and you looked after her.  She liked Boston Cream doughnuts so you always brought them for her.  She didn’t know much about the transit system, so you bought her a bus pass and showed her around.  You invited her over for supper.  You joked with her and took care of her.  You watched over her every need.  I know I’m fully independent.  I know how to buy my own bus pass, and yet how I longed for you to buy one for me.  How I wished that you would take the time to bring me my favourite food.  I wanted to be thought about.  I longed to be cared for, but I felt neglected, just as neglected as I had before, but now I saw you pouring your energy into her.

Even after she left I was too badly hurt to say anything.  I knew largely that I had been in the wrong and so I couldn’t accuse others.  My jealousy was venom that ate at my soul, not something I was proud of.  It was over a year after she left that I had the guts to mention to you that I felt abandoned.   You never knew where I was, and as far as I could tell, you never cared.  My heart slipped further and further from you.  Occasionally you did things to get my hopes up.  You’d take me on trips, take me out for supper or hand me cash.  At times I’ve felt like I am using you.  You don’t ask me for much, but you give.  Sometimes I wish I had more to give you, or rather, I wish you wanted me more.  I wish you valued me, or even needed me, but you don’t seem to care if I come or go.  I’m not a better person because of our relationship, and I don’t think it will affect you if I leave. 

I keep looking at the door.  I imagine getting off my chair and walking out.  What would it look like if our relationship ended?  How will it change the way people look at me?  Most people, except those who know me well, think our relationship is healthy.  They think I’ve made a godly choice in choosing you.  The people who know me tell me to get out of the relationship.  They see it sucking away my life.  They think I can do better.  The reasons I have to stay are increasingly poor reasons.  I’d have to pay for my own phone bill.  No more free trips.  In the fall, my laptop died.  You gave me a new one.  Would you want it back?  Laptops, a phone, trips; those are no reason to stay in a relationship, but I am not sure I can be independent.

I keep hoping our relationship will mend itself, but I haven’t done much to aide in its healing.  Your apathy towards me causes me to cease caring.  I want out of this relationship.  I am not sure when to leave.  Neither am I sure how to leave.  I don’t want to cut ties completely.  Slowly I’ve distanced myself from you more and more.  I think I’m ready to say goodbye, but something keep holding me here.

Married Life- An Allegory

For twelve years I’ve been married, half my life.  I couldn’t have known what I was doing when I first agreed to the idea.  I thought he was my only chance.  It hadn’t occurred to me at the time that other men might come along and sweep me off my feet.  They haven’t.  I’ve been true to my husband through the worst of it all.

The first few years I was his willing slave.  Like a young child willing to do the most ridiculous tasks to please her heartless older siblings.  My husband said jump, and so I’d jump and high as I could, over and over again.  I became so tired, so lonely.   

I was a marvellous wife, doing my best at everything.  I served him well but I wasn’t sure that I was loved.  I let painful thoughts enter my mind.  If I died would anybody care?  Was I valuable at all?  I was told I must trust my husband.  After all, he loved me.  It was his job.  So, I told myself that, and when I was feeling alone, I would talk to him, though I was never sure he was listening.  I knew he must be, but his body language never communicated that.  When he didn’t reply to me I’d read something that he had written to me long ago.  I started writing notes to my husband.  In them I’d let him know how I was feeling.  I’d talk about my friendships and ask for advice.  Maybe he thought I’d learn better if he didn’t tell me what to do.  He let me discover things that he already knew. 

                For the first six years of our marriage I spent time with him every day.  I convinced myself that he was interested in what I was saying to him and even more committed to me than I was to him.  I wasn’t sure how that was possible because I vowed, in my young age to never leave him.  No matter what.  So committed was I that I dedicated the whole of our seventh year of marriage to getting to know him better.  I wanted to know the things that made him happy.  I wanted to know how I could serve him.  I wanted to know the things he liked, but ultimately I didn’t want to just know information about him, I wanted to know him personally.

                I cannot lie.  That year was filled with many things.  I spent much effort trying to please him, but also trying to please a friend of mine.  Though it was a friendship with a boy, I don’t believe it hindered my relationship with my husband.  He was well aware of the friendship, and often invited hang out with us.  Ultimately the friendship wasn’t healthy.  I wanted the boy to be more like who I thought my husband was.  I had ideals and he did not live up.  Eventually I asked the boy to leave my life.  I didn’t need that friendship, I reckoned, because I had my husband as a friend.  I clung to my relationship with my husband, hoping that it would fulfill me, but it didn’t.  I pursued him.  I wanted to get to know him better, but I got only more knowledge and nothing intimate.  I thought he was supposed to be pursuing me.

                I moved to a new city with the hope that there I’d be able to serve him better.  I had hoped that there I might be able to spend more time with him.  I was willing to move where ever he wanted.  Nothing changed.  My husband had told me to jump, and so I spent day after day jumping, but eventually I got tired.

                When a man is never around it is easy for a woman to start wondering if he really loves her.  I remember one special moment we spent together in the past few years, but there should have been many more.  Or am I too demanding?

Sometimes people talk about my husband.  They’ll mention a nice thing he’s done for them.  It makes me angry.  Don’t get me wrong, I am glad he is doing things for other people.  I once thought that was all that mattered.  I didn’t care if he spent time with me if he was helping out others.  But I want him.  I want him to do something for me, just once.  I want him to take the time to be intimate with me, even if it is only for a few minutes.  I want him.      

As his wife I feel expected to tell stories about him that make him look good.  But I either have to make them up, or rely on stories that others have told me.  Sometimes I don’t even believe their stories myself.

One thing I must mention.  In the past 12 years I have never gone hungry.  There has always been money in the bank and food on my table.  When I thought my husband was hinting that I should get a job, I did and I hate it, but I know I have more money than I have earned.  It is possible that my husband likes to do things for me without me knowing and so all these years I have credited him for the food in my belly.  But now, I am just not sure that it was him.  I know many kind and generous people who continue to care for me, and it easily could have been any of them. 

                I’m still lonely.  I thought I’d never be lonely if I married.  I thought my husband would be around all the time, making sure I was okay.  I was counting on him.  I thought it would be wrong to rely on anybody else.  Now I am not sure that I ever should have relied on him.  I’m trying to make some new friends.  Not just people I think he’d want me to be friends with, but people I want to be friends with.  Not just people whom I can serve, but people who might serve me.  Maybe it's selfish, but I don’t want to be lonely anymore. 

                I thought once I was married that I would be able to curl up in my husband’s arms and rest, but my to do list keeps growing.  Whenever I have a moment to breathe, he is never around.  I try to enjoy the time by myself, after all, I am an introvert, but I keep looking to be fulfilled.  Maybe it was foolish to trust that he would satisfy me, but he promised me an abundant life together, joy and peace.

                I’m miserable.  It’s not my fault.  I keep trying, and I keep waiting, hoping that today will be the day he shows up and does his part.  I fall asleep alone.

                This year my dad died.  I begged my husband to show up and comfort me, but mourned his death alone.  I hardly mourned it.  Within a week of his death I was back to work, trying to serve my husband. 

                I know I shouldn’t blame my husband for my dad’s cancer.  It wasn’t his fault, it is not like he caused it or anything, yet a lot of my anger is directed towards him.  I hoped that he would have done something, anything.  He never showed up.  I can understand if he is busy with work or something, but I’m his wife!  Isn’t that a reason for him to come by and hold me? 

                I’ve been wondering if I’ve been lied to.  Maybe he isn’t the kind of guy he claims to be.  I don’t know why I’ve been fooled for so long.  I should have figured it out long ago.  I keep giving him the benefit of the doubt.  I keep hoping that he will come by.  I keep wishing that this year will be different, better.  Our relationship stays the same.  I’m not even sure it can be called a relationship, but a relationship with him is all I’ve ever hoped for.

                I promised myself to him.  I’d feel bad giving up now.  He might have good reason to be so distant, or maybe he is not as distant as I make him out to be.  I always try to justify his actions to myself and to others.  When he doesn’t come to an event with me, I tell others that he must have known it was for the better.  I’m tired of making up excuses for him.  I’m tired of giving him the benefit of the doubt.

                I’m still young.  I don’t think I can remain in this marriage for the rest of my life.  Would I be wrong to call it unfair, or even abusive?  I’ve trusted in his love, but I’ve never seen it.  I suppose there were a few times, but 4 times in 12 years is not enough and now even those times seem blurry.  Maybe I just gave him the benefit of the doubt before because I wanted to believe.  I wanted to believe that he planted the flowers for me, but maybe it was just the wind that blew the seeds into my garden.  Wanting to believe isn’t enough for me anymore.

                I wonder what my life would be like if I divorced him.  I know, it is wrong to even entertain such thoughts, but I can’t help but think.  Would I be able to form meaningful relationship after suffering in my marriage for so long?  Would I be able to heal?  Could I ever trust again?  There are some things I’d like to do.  Things I don’t do now because I know he wouldn’t approve.

                I’m tired of playing his game.  I’m tired of living by his rules.  And when I consider that he might be holding my back from real joy, from true love and from lasting peace, I don’t want to believe anything he ever did was good.  If he really is an evil husband, then it would be good, even right, for me to leave him.  I start looking for things to incriminate him, but whenever I find one my mind fights back.  It is as if I’ve spent the last 12 years of my life brainwashing myself to believe I have a lovely husband for it is impossible for me to hold other thoughts in my mind.  I’ve been living by his rules for so long that I need someone to tell me what to do.  I want someone to tell me to leave him.

                But I won’t.  I won’t leave him.  I am trapped.  I am his.  It is all I have known.  I cannot imagine my life without him.  Even though he has so infrequently been present, everything I do is for him.  I base my life on who he is.  I am his slave forever.  Somebody, please, come save me.

The Compound

I stole some ideas from my friend, and from a dream he had, and then I wrote this short story.  Enjoy:

The concrete walls were high and unyielding as if they were trying to keep people out, so I was surprised when I met two friendly men in white shirts with orange ties.  They looked to be barely 20, yet they were clean shaven, and presented themselves in such a way that I would have thought them to be much older.

With warmth in his eyes, the shorter one stepped forward and shook my hand “Hello and welcome.” He said with enthusiasm that could make one think we were newly acquainted long lost friends.  I was taken aback, intrigued.  I listened intently as he went on. “We are Recruiters for The Family of Purity.  I am Advisor Johnson and this is Advisor Peterson.”  With that introduction, the taller man stepped forward and shook my hand.  I wondered at what these young men, barely older than me, had accomplished to become Advisors.  I wondered what The Family of Purity really was, and if could I become part of it?

I was shocked when Advisor Peterson offered me a tour of looming compound that stood behind him.  Eagerly I took him up on the offer.  They unlocked the heavy doors to let me in.  There I saw a multitude.  Men, woman and children, all dressed alike in orange jumpsuits.  All seemingly with a task at hand, yet they stopped to greet me with a welcoming handshake and a smile.  Momentarily I noticed that I stood out.  Dressed casually in a t-shirt and shorts, it was obvious that I was not one of The Family.  I observed their interactions with each other.  Like a family they called each other by their names, or simply just brother, or sister or father. 

As I was taking this all in, and shaking the hands of those who approached me, the loneliness and emptiness of my life hit me.  Before me was family, a chance to belong and find meaning in my life.  I wondered what they would require of me, but I was willing to give almost anything.

Advisor Johnson broke into my thoughts.  “The Family of Purity exists so the all men might find happiness on this earth, and in the life to come.”  His words were a melody to my ear.  His song continued when he added “We believe that you can be happy, like the people here, if you follow simple commandments.  It is our hope that you give yourself to The Compound, because only in this Family can you find joy.”

“How can I do that?”  I shook with anticipation.

“I have The Pamphlet which you can read, and I trust as you read it that you will feel the goodness of The Compound and long to be part of it.”  As he said this he pulled a 24 page mini-book out of his pocket and handed it to me.  I was taken out of the moment as I lost myself inside the pages.  He was right.  This had to be good.  How could something with so much unity, with so much love, be anything but good?

When I was finishing the second page Advisor Peterson interrupted my thoughts.  “You’ll have plenty of time to study The Pamphlet later.  For now, come, let us show you further into the compound.”

I was torn.  I desired to continue to read the words of The Pamphlet, the words of life, but I also wanted to see more of the compound.  Slowly I found the strength to but The Pamphlet away and give the Recruiters my full attention.

I followed them in awe as I took in my surrounding.  The bright orange jumpsuits stood out against the muted walls.  As we walked towards the centre of the compound, we passed through a hallway.  On either side the grey walls were lined with men and woman in jumpsuits.  Their arms and legs were chained, bolted into the walls.

“This is a beautiful sight” Advisor Johnson said confidently to me, but I didn’t see the beauty.  These humans were chained; they were trapped.  How could anyone think the suppression of another was a beautiful thing?  Then I looked upon their faces.  They didn’t look miserable.  In fact, they were smiling, even laughing at times.  Advisor Johnson continued, “These men and women know about the evils of society, and have chosen to stay away from anything evil.  They are so committed to The Family that they are willing to give their life.  They have no desire to break free from the chains that entangle them.”

I wouldn’t have been able to believe The Advisor if I hadn’t seen the faces of The Family Members.  When I looked at the glitter in their eyes and the smile on their faces I knew that they would have it no other way.  We passed into the core of The Compound.  Here, both men and woman were in cells.  They looked out from between the bars as we passed through.  There was a solemn air about the place, and we spoke not a word as we hurried through.  Once out on the other side, Advisor Peterson explained what I had just seen.

“Those are the weakest Members of our Family.  Though they desire purity, if allowed any freedom, they fail to obtain it.  Still we love them, so we do all we can to enable them to live the purity they desire.  Inside the cells they face no temptation.  They are safe from the dangers of this world and the dangers of one’s self.” 

“This really is a family” I said amazed at how much they cared for each other.

“”Yes,” replied Advisor Johnson, “And it is a family of which we invite you to be a part.”

“What must I do?” I inquired eagerly.

“We invite you to prepare yourself to be born into the Family of Purity as soon as possible.”

“And how do I prepare?”  I was ready to do anything.

“You must show yourself that you are committed to The Plan of Purity.”  Advisor Peterson counselled “for the next week you must live to the standards of purity as are outlined in The Pamphlet.  Come with us, we will show you what we have in place to help you.”

We walked towards the exit of The Compound.  I noticed for the first time, armed guards standing at the doorway.  They were not concerning themselves with the people walking into The Compound.  They were watching those inside, and I wondered if they’d let us leave.  One of the guards took a step towards me.  I froze in terror momentarily until I saw the large smile on his face.  He offered me a handshake and introduced himself.  I walked into the blazing sun with The Recruiters.  I hadn’t remembered the sun being so hot that morning.

Along the outside of building there stretched an iron rod.  I hadn’t noticed it on my way in.  Advisor Peterson pulled out handcuffs from his pocket.

“What’s this about?” I asked.

“We want to help you to stay committed to The Plan of Purity.  We invite you to handcuff yourself to this rod so that you do not give into any temptations and, in so doing, forsake purity.  We hope that in a week’s time when we come back that we find you pure and ready to be born into our Family”

I took the cuffs and sighed deeply.  Slowly, but deliberately I attached one of the cuffs to the rod and the other to my wrist. 

“I believe you,” I told the recruiters as they went on their way.

“And we believe in you.” They replied.

Then I pulled out The Pamphlet, excited and ready to learn about The Family of Purity.