Left Out & Left Behind

One of the things I hated most about living with my abusive husband, is so seemingly small. I guess it could be seen as petty. Sometimes with abuse it is the little things that are hardest to take. You can learn to cope with the yelling.. not so bad if you drift off in thought while standing there taking it. You memorize the insults. How much can they hurt the hundredth time that he said them? I already believed they were true. But the little things, the seemingly unimportant things, those are the ones that are like a knife to your soul, each and every time.

For each of us it is something different. For me, it is being left out or left behind. I hated that if we had people over, I was always sent to do something in the kitchen, or to nurse the baby in the other room.Why did the guests never notice?Why does no one ever notice? Instead, I got used to hearing, "We would have loved to have spent more time with you. Maybe next time, maybe when the baby is older..."

I hated when he would tell me that he was going out to do something with his friends, or going out "for a break" by himself. Didn't I deserve a break? I spent all day, every day in the house with the kids, while he left the house every day. And if I asked about being allowed to go somewhere, I always got the same old story. "Who will watch the kids while you are out? You will either have to take them with you, or just not go."

It's not that I don't like leaving the house.. but it becomes scary after a while to venture out into that vast unknown. What if I go to the wrong place? What if the wrong person talks to me? What if I look too friendly/ What if HE sees it? What will happen when I get back home? Better to not take that chance. Better to avoid causing problems...

Of course, when he gets home, I am supposed to be happy for him. I am supposed to ask him how it was, if he enjoyed it. If I don't then it is obvious to him that I don't care about him.. and that is just another backlash that is so much easier to avoid. You get really good at putting on the mask. It is the same mask that you put on when other people come over to the house. The same mask you put on when you are allowed out of the house. It is the mask of nothing is wrong, and I couldn't be happier.

I wear the mask. I smile and ask how it was. I listen to him tell me every detail, very attentively.. just in case he asks me a question. And inside my soul dies just a little more as he spoils it for me.. but it is not like I would ever be allowed to go anyways..maybe it is for the best.