shaking the soda can

I'll never claim to be innocent where I'm not. There will be some who read this and go "You were both assholes" and you'd be right. But in domestic violence there's always more than meets the eye. 

The thing about domestic abuse is that the moment you hit the wall and can't be manipulated the way they want, is the moment they start setting up their story for why they couldn't stay. In my case I was "controlling and manipulative" I was "just plain crazy". (If ALL of their exs are "just crazy" run far and run fast.) 

Most of us have at least one past relationship we're not particularly proud to share. I personally have a couple. But as reluctant as I may be to declare those relationships I wouldn't call them crazy. They were hurt, or broken in ways that didn't mesh with the ways that I was.

The more open and vulnerable you were with an abuser in the beginning, the more ammunition they have at the end. They know exactly what drives you nuts. They know how to gaslight in order to get reactions to back up their narrative. 

Those little things that you tell them in confidence get "accidentally" brought up. Those habits you've said make you upset are put on display. That thing they thought was funny that made you feel invalidated? They'll do it for show then make a point of announcing to anyone who chuckled that you actively try to prevent them from displaying this "amazing talent". 

When you finally snap and lose your temper, you end up with reactive abuse.

With me it was the impressions. My ex was pretty good at impressions. Was he the next Robin Williams? No. Was it enough that the average person would chuckle and say "He's pretty decent" yeah. 

I enjoyed them, encouraged it even. I would specifically tee up questions or comments for him to respond to with his favorite impressions. Partially because it was entertaining but mostly because it made him happy, and it was a small thing I could do for him. But there was one glaring issue. He wouldn't turn it OFF. 

It became clear this was a defense mechanism that had worked in the past. If I asked a question he didn't like all of a sudden I was talking to John Lennon. And not just the voice but answering AS the person being impersonated. If we argued suddenly I was speaking with The Doctor from Doctor Who; "How could you be mad while out here in wibbly wobbly timey wimey space" but I was mad. 

I was frustrated and unnerved by the fact that I was trying desperately to have important conversations with my boyfiend/ fiancee/ husband and instead I was discussing going back to school with Matthew McConaughey and planning a family with Max Goof. I told him over and over that I didn't want a future with these random people. I wanted a future with him, and as such wanted to discuss it with HIM. 

Usually he took this as an opportunity to turn blame on me. I was impolite for interrupting his impersonation. I was a boring stick in the mud for even wanting to have these conversations. I didn't understand what trauma had led to this (because I didn't want to discuss it with batman) and as such was responsible for putting him in an unhealthy headspace. 

While he made a point of telling me and his friends how much he adored me, he also made a point of making fun of me when we were all together. My intelligence, my tendency toward anxiety and depression, my hopes, my fears, NOTHING was off limits. There were people who couldn't remember my name but knew I struggled with self worth. Others that didn't know my hair color but knew the ways I self harmed when anxiety took over. And because he presented it as a joke, others felt it was alright to jump in to make fun of me as well. 

For a long time I stayed quiet. He made it clear I wasn't allowed to tease him about anything, so I didn't know how to react. There was a point where I was keeping hemeroid cream in my purse to hide my puffy eyes after crying. I was frustrated beyond measure. Eventually I started snapping back rude little responses. 

He commented on how I was a cougar (I was less than a month older) I responded it was an odd choice of terms considering the stereotypical cougar is after a conventionally attractive man. He commented on my intelligence being annoying in front of some of his friends. I commented that as least I wasn't so self absorbed that I made the Greek god Narcissus look low maintenance. I knew I'd pay for the comments later but I was so tired of being the group whipping boy I didn't care.

Reactive abuse is basically the equivalent of shaking up a can of soda over and over then opening it in public. Everyone sees the explosion. They see the sticky, wet mess and it makes sense to bystanders when the person it exploded on comments how crazy it was to have such an extreme reaction.

What nobody saw was the person shaking the can in hopes of getting a chance to put on a show. 

Eventually I changed my approach and began providing the missing context.

We were at a gathering with some of his friends when he started doing his impressions. I smiled and nodded along until he hooked a thumb at me and commented to his friends in a stage whisper "Don't know why she's laughing she HATES my impressions. She's told me to stop all together 😆". 

I stepped up to him and laced my arm through his as I said "Oh sweetheart. You must have misunderstood. I only asked you to stop when I'm trying to have a serious or meaningful conversation with you. I enjoy them greatly, just not while we're talking about paying off your student loans or if we're able to have children after my chemotherapy treatments. I simply have a preference those conversations be with my husband. 😁" 

I'm not saying that I am the model for dealing with reactive abuse. The jabs were rude. Should I have stooped to it? Absolutely not. Did I do what I felt was necessary in order to survive? Yes. Even in providing context I effectively made everyone surrounding us uncomfortable.

So what can you do? If you're in the situation, do your best to not react. If they don't get a reaction it's no longer fun. If you simply want to be an ally, as you go forward in life, keep an eye out for those explosions that don't seem to match the interaction. There might just be someone shaking the soda can before it goes off.