Avocado by Anonymous

Published July 14, 2013 by manysmallvoices

Contains some swearing. Due to the subject matter of posts on MSV, some contain strong language. This post details dialogue as it happened at the time.

Avocado

by Anonymous.

“What are you doing?”

I was holding an avocado, already halved, with the knife poised above the stone. Whack, slice, twist the stone out. Dispose of it.

“I’m taking the stone out”.

A dark and angry look over my partner’s face.

“ You’re not doing it the way I told you”.

“Okay, but this way works fine, too. See? It’s out now”.

I went to put the bits I didn’t need in the bin, and my partner stepped in front of me. “No, but this is just another example of how you don’t respect me. You don’t care what I say. You won’t take my advice, because you think I’m a fucking cunt, and you know best”.

I was shocked.

But not really, because every conversation we had was like this.

I felt like I was being backed into a corner, with the room getting smaller.

Every day there was less margin for error and everything I said could be misconstrued into some kind of slight against him.

“Well, you don’t know best. And YOU’RE the fucking cunt, not me.”

My partner pushed past me, knocking me sideways and into the washing machine. “Ow. Hey. HEY, look” There was no point in trying to tell him he was being rough, but before I could remember that, I’d started to tell him how he’d pushed past me really roughly “Oh, what now. Have I hurt you? Why don’t you call the police then, you stupid twat?”.

I let it all wash over me. That was it now, it was 8pm and the next six hours would be an assault on everything I’d ever done wrong towards him. He’d demand to sleep away from me that night, saying that I was my fault, I was too unreasonable and emotional. He’d shout, and when he woke our children up, it would be my fault again for not leaving him alone. Then the next day he’d go off to work. Ignore me all day. Stay late. When he got home, some time around 1am, he’d expect me to apologise for my awful behaviour. And I would. I always did.

Onions. I never diced or chopped onions in the correct way either. He’d tell friends a joke, about how in our first few days of living together, we’d had an almighty row about the best way to cut onions up. It wasn’t a row, because I didn’t get my side across. And onions weren’t the issue. I wasn’t doing anything to his standard. The day I moved in, I put the washing machine on the wrong setting, and with his entire family in the next room, he screamed at me, calling me a massive fuck up cunt. I’d been made to apologise to his family for his tone, it was my fault after all. Instead of being embarrassed or telling me it wasn’t my fault, they’d told me that was how he was and I’d better tread carefully.

I walked on eggshells, for years. It was never enough. Even if I sat totally still and said nothing, there was some part of me to be viciously attacked. Everything I did was wrong, and everything I did was disrespectful and everything I was, offended him. Stupid me, my fault again. Once, my partner’s sister said “Well you know he’s a bit verbally abusive, what did you expect?”.

What did I expect? I expected my partner’s family not to palm him off on me, because I was now a new outlet for his disgustingly crude screaming tirade’s. I expected them not to back off, sit back and let a out a big, 15 year waiting, sigh of relief that he had another scapegoat now and they didn’t have to ‘deal with it’.

“He’s your problem now”. No. You saw this coming. You are his family. You recognise this as abuse, him as an abuser. You could have stopped it, you could have said something, anything. When he was screaming at you, and punching doors, driving off drunk and blaming you, you could have called the Police. Instead, you sat on your hands and waited for his next partner to come along, someone weaker and more vunerable this time, someone who wouldn’t leave him like the last three.

I guess, temporarily, they all got what they wanted. His family are very angry with me. I know because they’ve told me. “He’s a broken man, you’re meant to love him despite his faults”. Actually, they’re angry because they have to deal with his ranting and paranoid behaviour now.

And. I. Do. Not. No more. Never again.

***

We are looking for your stories of abuse to feature on our blog and make many small voices one LOUD voice. We will protect your anonymity at all times should you wish to remain anonymous, so please contact us for more details.

Domestice abuse damages in whatever form  and here at Many Small Voices we hope to gather the stories of those who have survived abuse into one resource to help and support those who are still victims. We also hope to support survivors through recovery once the abuse has stopped because the scars are still there and will remain forever. Support after abuse is just as important.

We are not experts, just people who are passionate that domestic abuse, in whatever form it takes, must be stopped.

If you think you or someone you know needs help please take a look in our links page to find a list of organisations that strive to help support victims of abuse.

One comment on “Avocado by Anonymous

  • One failed marriage and two kids later, I met a man I thought was the answer to my prayers. He turned out to be my worst nightmare.

    It was a whirlwind, long-distance romance. When he finally arrived, we were married 9 days after the airplane landed. I thought I knew him. I had no idea who this guy was!

    Right off the bat, he was not divorced from his last wife when he married me. I should have ended things right there! But I was already pregnant by the time I found out. But the alarming thing about that was that here was a man who would lie about ANYTHING to get what he wanted. RED FLAG!

    He was a control freak. He cut us off from family and friends. Then, he divided me from my own children. The verbal abuse was OFF THE CHARTS! Under the guise of being helpful, he gradually stripped me of access to the mail, transportation, and money.

    He was cruel with my kids. A rigid, legalistic disciplinarian, he crushed them with endless chores, locking them in the wet basement to mop up water that leaked in through the walls and floor. They learned to hate him. The environment in our home went from normal to ugly.

    My youngest daughter began to have an emotional breakdown. The doctors put her on Ritalin for focus and gave her pills for chronic migraines and insomnia. They gave her a mental diagnosis. She began cutting and turned to drugs to dull her pain. Her real problem was domestic violence. There was a monster living in her home. No one asked the right questions. No one believed her when she told stories of abuse. My kids left home to escape from the abuse.

    I stayed for 10 years. By the end, I had been erased as a person. I was planning my suicide to end my suffering. I left instead.

    Having been under the complete control of another person, FREEDOM is more than a word to me today. I will never be controlled again. Today, I love my life.

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