He never hit her, as far as I know. He never needed to. He controlled her with his barbed words, his glowering silences, their his money and everything else. Her soul was battered into submission so much that any physical abuse would have been superfluous. She fought back with secrets and disapproving looks, resentment under the surface, and hidden tears, but ultimately she would always bow her will to his.
The irony behind all this was that she had been free for a couple of years, and her return to captivity was my fault.
My parents divorced when I was five. We moved away from my country, my home, my language, my friends and my family. I had to give away my dog because we could no longer keep her. Thousands of miles away from it all, we started a new life with my grandma and away from my dad. Everything had been shattered, fragmented into pieces. We tried to make a new mosaic, but sometimes I caught my mom crying when I surprised her.
God was still with me. I knew that and felt His presence. When I heard the Bible promise that if two or three agreed on anything in His name, it would be done, my heart grabbed onto it and wouldn’t let go. I would find other people to agree with me, we would pray for my family to get back together, and it would be done. I remember slipping away in the grocery store, running up to random old ladies and asking them to pray with me for my parents to get back together. My faith was unshakeable, even when I asked my dad once during a visit when (never if) he was going to marry mom again. He gently told me, “Probably never.” My jaw dropped in disbelief, then I jerked my head back up and began praying harder. Two and a half years after the divorce, my parents were remarried to each other.
It became our testimony. Look at how God had restored their marriage and our family! Oh, how God can change hearts through childlike faith! We saw hope light up so many faces. Except that though their marriage may have been restored, it wasn’t really transformed. It remained horribly fractured, even though they were now back together again.
There were good times. For awhile, he would be in a good mood, and the whole family would live on tiptoe, terrified of setting off the next rage. Surely things were really getting better, though. That last explosion was a low point, but it seemed so much better now. If only she could avoid setting him off by her poor housekeeping, not being appreciative enough, not praising him enough, by making any mistakes at all… We were probably exaggerating his reaction just a little, anyway. I mean, of course he was angry, but he had a right to be. If we would just try harder…
It wasn’t until some dear friends of mine began to come to terms with leaving abusive marriages that I realized that this was truly abuse. As I read through Why Does He Do That: Inside the Minds of Angry and Controlling Men by Lundy Bancroft, I would have to stop and put it down because I was shaking. This was my childhood. It also showed a very distorted, twisted view of my own marriage.
I didn’t marry my father. My husband is not an abuser. Most of the time, things were happy and peaceful between us. Yet, I had no idea what marriage was supposed to look like. I saw my husband through the kaleidoscope of my parents marriage. Any action, tone of voice or phrase that reminded my of my dad became a trigger. It warped my perspective and shifted everything into sharp, broken pieces. I would play out some of the same scenarios that I had witnessed. I would ascribe my dad’s motives to my husband, while I alternated between the roles of aggressor and victim. I’ve spoken with the same cutting, contemptuous tone of voice that my father used. I’ve reenacted my mother’s helplessness, resentment and passivity. Sometimes I still hold my breath, afraid of a reaction that doesn’t come. Just like the tiniest bump disarranges the picture in a kaleidoscope, I freeze inside when I think that something might jar the serene image of our marriage.
Even now, there are times when I am tempted to blame my mother, although she was the victim, not the abuser. I know that she was conditioned through decades of abuse. I know that it isn’t really my fault (or God’s) that she has been stuck in this marriage for decades now. She clings to all that she has been taught about wifely submission, and he continues to abuse her in nearly every possible way except through hitting her. Since the bruises aren’t physical, she doesn’t think it really counts. Yet most of the time, my dad and I were very close. He has many qualities that I love and admire, and I still feel the pull to defend him, even though he isn’t the one who needs defending and his abuse is indefensible. I’ve been out of their home for many years, but my perspective is still so skewed.
I love them both so much, and hurt so much to see the abuse continue and feel helpless to change it. As a child, I was convinced that I had the power to fix their relationship through my prayers. I don’t feel any faith now, just sadness, impotence and frustration.
So many people used to tell us that we had the perfect family, that we were a beautiful picture of God’s power to heal a broken family. The were looking at an illusion. And though it was with a very different spin, what I had learned to see in marriage was just as false. I really do believe that He mends the shattered, and that grace can take the pieces of our past and somehow transform them into loveliness. I just don’t want to look at a distorted image anymore, and some days it is hard to put down the kaleidoscope.
Image credit: schnaars on Flickr
Oh, Dulce. Gosh. I can’t even begin to tell you all the ways this resonates with me. The tiptoeing around to avoid rages, the desperate, desperate praying for my parents’ marriage and the years of dysfunction and unhealthiness that seemed unmovable even by the Hand of God.
And the kaleidoscope – oh yes. Oh, how I’ve projected my family issues onto my marriage. It is so hard to put it down. Sister, I am right there with you in it.
((((Hugs)))) Thank you so much! I am so sorry that you are going through it, too, but it helps so much to feel less lonely. Thank you for understanding.
Wow…this is a VERY moving piece. I certainly didn’t grow up with the same situation, nor am I married now, but I can see how relationships we had when we were young could impact those in our adulthood. I need to examine the kaleidoscope in my own life.
AWESOME post. I’m just sorry you had to experience that pain in order to write it…
Thank you so very much! It really is amazing how so many parts of our adult relationships are made up of unconscious elements brought from our childhood.
Dulce – this is a work of art. Hard, painful, difficult art – but also a thing of beauty and truth. I did not grow up in a family like this, but I have counseled many, many people who did. And it is so damaging. Beyond words damaging. It is a dreadful distortion of biblical teaching when anyone, man or woman, submits to another because ‘the Bible tells me so,’ and that other is an abuser. And abuse is not just physical. Verbal and psychological abuse, even spiritual abuse, are more common than we like to admit and this truth is one reason I so strongly react when people pull any biblical teaching out of context, but most especially, Ephesians 5. Marriage is not supposed to be a battle but a partnership, a relationship of mutual submission to one another and joined submission to Jesus. Thank you for writing this painful truth down and for sharing with us how lingering the after-effects can be. Blessings as you continue to process all these layers of pain.
Diana, thank you so much for beautifully articulating truth! I am so grateful for the work that you are doing to bring healing to other families! I appreciate your encouragement so very much.
Dulce,
This! This is just powerful. It really resonates with me. Having lived under the abusive relationship that was my parents – which also was far more emotional and verbal than physical (though there were elements of that as well). Being afraid of setting off my father and living with that fear. And taking all that baggage into my own marriage and not knowing what to do about it at the time.
You, my friend. Are very brave. Blessings to and prayers for you and your family as you continue to recover and thrive!
Thank you so much! I am sorry that you, too, relate to this story. You have done so much, though, to bring health and healing and create new patterns. I know that you are making a difference with your daughter and helping her to see clearly what healthy relationships look like.
Thank you for writing about this with such honesty and beauty. It’s never easy to write through our own recovery, much less find the courage to share it, but I’ve learned (read: *am* learning) the liberation of naming abuse and actively working to keep sight of the truth. While my story doesn’t involve my parents’ marriage as heavily, my father was also abusive, and the consequences from that can be so far reaching. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m right here with you, trying to put down the kaleidoscope and cling to grace.
Thank you so much! What you said about the liberation of naming abuse is absolutely true. I have been so worried about posting this, because it feels so much easier to just gloss over it. But “until we have faces” we can’t fully enter into God’s truth, and I am learning that in order for our pasts to be redeemed, we have to first acknowledge them.
Dulce, lovely, moving and raw. Thank you for sharing such transparency with us. It pains me to hear “It’s my fault.” Or that hollowness that comes when faith doesn’t seem to do any good. My friend. My friend.
Thank you so very much, Jen. Even when my mind knows better, it seems to take my emotions an awfully long time to catch up.
praying
Thank you for such a beautiful piece. My story is similar though my parents stayed together until I was in college and a lot of the reason behind my dad’s way of being is related to mental illness. Regardless of the details, I so relate to feverent prayers that go unanswered and taking all that baggage into my own marriage. And again, at this moment, I pray for change that I almost dare-not-hope will come to heal both my marriage and my father.
Hugs to you, Katie! I am so sorry for your pain, and join with you in prayers for healing for all of your family.
This is such powerful writing. It must have been, then and now, incredibly painful. Thank you for sharing your heart.
Thank you, Donna. The happy part has been how much deeper the trust has grown between my husband and me through this whole process!
I’m having a hard time responding to this… You know, our culture doesn’t really condone speaking ill of our childhood, even though we might go broken under the weight of it. It is however very healing to talk about it, to receive recognition. To have someone tell you: “well, this wasn’t ok, you have the right to be hurt”.
Growing up in the light in a broken and limp marriage is sure to set you off on the wrong foot when you enter a relationship yourself. I know.
Keep sharing and investigating. If you need to talk, you know where to find me.
Laura
Thanks so much, Laura! It is hard to speak of, especially because my parents are wonderful people in so many ways. I don’t want to make other people think badly of them. Finding the balance of speaking truth in love is so tricky.
Your story is similar to mine minus the divorce part. So much so that this was difficult to read. Thing is, I don’t feel like I have the freedom to say anything. Yet, what you describe is abuse and the woman stays pretty much captive and codependent. And yes, when you enter your own relationship you have HUGE amounts of healing to do. I’m so thankful my husband was so patient with me when he was my boyfriend. I was terrible gun-shy of having my ‘freedom’ taken away, and was so fearful of men and their wrath that it took us nearly two years from the time we met until we married. Thank goodness for his love and patience.
((((Lisa))))). I am sorry. And I totally get not feeling as though you have the freedom to say anything. I grew up with all of Gothard’s teachings about authority, and how saying anything that might dishonor them was evil and would be harshly punished by God. This is the first time I have felt the freedom to actually name it as abuse to others. I don’t want to hurt my parents, but I felt strongly that it needed to be told. Did you read The Worst Part of a Redemption Story? There is so much power and truth in that post, and it showed me that there is grace and glory to be found even in the parts of our past that we would rather hide.