Valentine's

Ok I felt weird posting this before valentine's day but this feels relevant.

Valentine's Day 2019. 

I had been married for a month and two days and I couldn't be more proud. Things were tight financially but we were getting by. We had agreed no gifts as we were trying to cut unnecessary spending (or at least I was). I asked if I could still make us a special meal for our first valentine's as a married couple. He agreed, and requested beef stroganoff with no onion and no mushroom (it would be like requesting pizza with no sauce and no cheese). 

I told him I'd figure it out. What I actually figured out was if you throw anything in the food processor long enough you can hide it. Yes, I absolutely pulled the same trick as many parents with picky toddlers. And yes with some distance, I now absolutely see how that was a reflection of a much larger issue.

I grabbed the ingredients after I got off work and even grabbed a bottle of sparkling cider as a treat. He was a bit late coming home so I decided to make it extra special. I quickly curled my hair. I put on my favorite dress which was now hanging quite loose. It only registered as abnormal because it fit perfectly when I bought it six months prior. I shrugged it off and continued to push forward with my plan. Red lipstick to match my high heels and the pattern on my dress. Pearl earrings and a matching necklace. 

I was waiting, hopeful and excited to spend Valentine's with my husband. He came through the door and instantly flipped a switch. "Why are you wearing THAT?!?" 

"Oh. Uhm. I know its probably overkill. I just thought you'd maybe... uhm. I don't know. How was your day?"

"Bad."

"Oh I'm sorry. Do you want to talk ab-"

"No. Because YOU made it bad"

"I? What? How?" 

"WTF did you buy on Amazon?!?"

"What? Oh. Uhm a laptop charger. Mine stopped working and.."

"And you just COULDNT go without?!?"

"Babe I get my work schedule via email and I don't have a smart pho-"

*I carried our plates to the table*

"And how much did you spend on this f%$king dinner?"

" I... a little more than normal, but not much, and the charger was only nine dolla-"

"I DONT CARE HOW MUCH IT WAS"

It happened so fast I didn't have time to process it. My head was turned to the right, staring at the bouquet of red roses sitting in the center of the table. I had a rough day at work a couple days ago and he brought them as a surprise to cheer me up. I remember feeling frozen. Staring, gaze following every vein in every petal. My knee was throbbing. I hit it on the table when I flinched. But the pain didn't register. My hands were still up. Palms facing my husband. My right hand guarding my face and my left crossed my body in an attempt to shield my head.

He just tried to hit me. 

He actually pulled back and tried to hit me.

 When I was able to turn and face him, he looked almost as surprised as me, though his right hand was still poised mid air. As he slid back from leaning across the table we both sat in stunned silence for a moment. I was numb from the shock. Tears burned and threatened to roll over. I finally asked "What WAS that?"

"Well, you... I...."

He burst into tears and begged for mercy. Begged me to understand that he "just lost control". Sobbed about how his Dad had once punched him; how his mom had drawn blood by back handing him with her wedding ring on. 

I told him I was so sorry that happened but I didn't understand what had just happened. He talked in circles about how he was treated as a child. How I really needed to talk to him before I made purchases. How he loved me with everything he had. How his love just "looked different than mine". 

It made my head spin.

Then he tearfully apologized. Told me he loved me and kissed me. He begged me to allow him to show me how much he loved me. 

I was still numb as he led me upstairs and dinner sat uneaten on the table. I was still numb as he undressed me. I was numb through the entire process. 

I came to in the shower after the fact. 

I had mentally blacked out. The last thing I honestly remembered was him grabbing the cups of my strapless bra, and yanking them down so that the underwires dug into the tender skin between my ribs. 

In the middle of standing in the boiling hot water, arms crossed tightly across my chest, I "woke up" to the distinct thought if I could slice my skin down the middle and step out of it, I WOULD. I processed it as a passing intrusive thought, along the same lines as chopping vegetables and thinking that could chop a finger off. The kind of thought that you shake your head to clear it like an etch-a-sketch and move forward with your life. 

I tried desperately to ignore the thoughts of Why didn't he see how detached you felt? 

Why didn't you ask him to stop?

It's not really assault if you don't tell them to stop, is it? 

Would it make a difference to him?

It was the first time I remember realizing that I had blacked out. And honestly it made me wonder what was wrong with me. I made the mistake of sharing my concern after it happened a few times. He used it as reason to tell me I wasn't remembering things correctly. How could I be sure my accusations of him were correct if by my own admission I was blacking out? Its only now, after a fair amount of research that I've figured out it's a pretty normal reaction to a significant trauma. 

So what does that day look like from the outside?

Well, unfortunately it looks like this.

I was terrified of anyone finding out. I thought they would tell me it was my fault. That this was normal growing pains. That I was ruining his reputation. He said he was sorry and that should count for something right?

When I left I got a lot of "I had no idea" and "you all seemed so happy". Honestly that's how I wanted it to look. But the weight of that dissonance was a heavy one to bear.

Abuse very rarely looks like abuse from the outside. But that doesn't mean that it's not happening or not valid.