“I HOPE I DIE ON THE TABLE, SO I DON'T HAVE TO LIVE LIKE THIS ANYMORE!” He screamed at me.
I’d asked to inspect the new car we were getting before we signed and paid for it.
“HE’S DOING US A FAVOUR! HE”S HELPING US OUT!!! YOU ARE LOOSING IT!”
Three hours ago, as far as I knew my husband and I had a pact. We’d both agreed to look at the car before signing, paying for and taking it home. There’s too many reasons to list why we wanted to do this. But getting it home and then getting it back to the car dealership is VERY long, difficult and expensive should something be wrong with it when we get it home.
He’d gone into town and spoken to the car salesman who was now “doing us a favour”. We’d waited 7 months for this car.
It seemed my husband had switched teams. He was no longer doing what he and I agreed to, but what he and the car salesman had agreed to. It wasn’t the first time I’d been put on the bench.
With several of our sons struggling, in the months before, I wasn’t sure that this was something I could handle right now. I again felt wounded. No team mate, no support, not compassion and understanding just demands. Demand and insistences that I do what I was told and when I was told to do them. No questions asked.
“DON'T TELL ANYONE WHAT YOUR CONCERNS ARE, THEY’LL THINK YOU’RE NUTS!!!” I started to question my own judgment. No, my sanity. I could feel the grief welling up inside of me. Was I too going to be institutionalised like my mother and grandmother before me? Like my son just was? Is this how it all happens? A disagreement between me and my loved one?
I felt sick. Sick with fear, grief and “what-if” scenarios run through my head.
“I thought we were a team, I thought we agreed.” I said bravely.
“I DON”T WANT TO BE ON YOUR TEAM!!!! WE ARE NOT A TEAM!!! HE'S DOING US A FAVOUR, I'M DOING YOU A FAVOUR!!!”
It’s not a favour I asked for, I don’t want that favour, I want to know the car is in a good condition before we get it home.
“YOU’VE GOT THAT AMERICAN SHIT GOING IN YOU AGAIN!!! YOU WANT TO KNOW TOO MUCH ABOUT EVERYTHING!”
I take note that he is attempting to humiliate me and belittle me because of my cultural background. I acknowledge I can no more change this than the colour of my eyes. 0-7 years old are formidable ages and I can not remove that learning, not that I would want to.
I wasn’t certain in the moment, but I am now, that these words, this behaviour is domestic violence behaviour.
I laid on the lounge and shook with rage, grief, emotional pain. But I didn’t say anymore. I didn’t try to understand his reasoning anymore. It felt futile.
The cycle has been there for 20 years (probably longer) but I’m only seeing it for what it is now.
Floods of memories about my parents fighting came back to me. It was the same but without the physical violence.
I thought we were OK. I thought we would make it.
I realised we would have made it if I had stayed in my shell and just let him be the head ruler of our home.
The problem with that is though, should he happen to pass away there would be a new head ruler of our home and it would not be me. I would be at the mercy to whom ever stood in his place. They “would just be trying to help out.” and the cycle would start all over again.
As I laid on the lounge, I tossed and turned. The hours rolled by roller coaster cars. Only the cars were being flung off the track just like my thoughts were throwing my attempts to sleep off the track. The last words he said to me before he went to the bedroom of our holiday home was "“I HOPE I DIE ON THE TABLE, SO I DON'T HAVE TO LIVE LIKE THIS ANYMORE!”
It echoed in my ears repeatedly. What I hear there was that he would rather die on the table than spend any more time with me.
“I DON”T WANT TO LIVE LIKE THIS ANYMORE.” He screams at me on previous occasions like this one.
“I DON”T EITHER!” I scream back, but neither one of us is prepared to do anything.
According to him, “We’ve got no place to go and no one will look after us.” This is his concern should we separate. It’s not mine.
Mine is, “Where can I find a job with my skill set and where can I find to live as far away from here as possible? When can I start travelling?” I’m not worried about someone taking care of me.
I doze off and woke at 2am. (I got two hours, I thought to myself, maybe I will get some more). We drove to the hospital in absolute silence.
In the waiting area of the hospital we sat, saying nothing.
It was time to go back to the surgery waiting area.
He murmurs to the hospital receptionist asking her if I could go back with him. He’ s needle phobic and faints easily.
She looks to me and said, "Oh, sorry, it’s a really tight area so we can’t...” I stop her in her tracks. “He asked you, I didn’t, you need to address him.” I realise I was too terse in my response to her. They head back to the surgery area but not before he wants a kiss goodbye. I do not comply. He puts on on my cheek and squeezes my arm. It’s a ploy. It is a ploy that he does when he wants to regain control of the situation. The compassion and sympathy ploy. I’m not playing. He wants things to go back the way it was. He wants things amicable and nice again.
He will have to go back 20 years or more to the first time he told me, “I don’t feel anything for you anymore.” And more words like:
You’re loosing it. (He plays on the knowledge he has that this is one of my biggest fears because of generational cycles of institutionalisation.)
You’re acting just like an American! (Too curious, too staunch about right and wrong, too loud, etc.)
Don’t tell people what you really think, they will think you’re nuts! (He’s gathering a mob mentality in my head. He’s right everyone will think I’m crazy.)
You’re just going to do what you want to, aren’t you? (A good wife will let her husband lead and she will follow always.)
If you keep acting this way, (talking to him and trying to understand why he is so upset) I’m going to leave you!
You can go ANYWHERE YOU WANT. (Later saying, no you can’t go there by yourself, you couldn’t make it. - A bus trip with other ladies to a beach destination.)
You can DO ANYTHING YOU WANT. (Oh you can’t do that, it’ll be expensive/time consuming/difficult.) I feel shoved in a box. So much potential, so little actual permission.
I let you have access to our bank account any time. (You want to spend all this money but we have to live on it for the rest of our lives. I spent 0.85% of our very healthy bank account.)
But we both stayed.
I drove myself back home to the holiday house. I contemplated packing my belongings and leaving for our permanent home letting one of our sons pick him up from hospital tomorrow. But I didn’t. This is not their mess to get involved with.
I tried to sleep but the thoughts kept whirling through my head. This is DV, isn’t it? I started to Google. I found a list. I don’t like to use that expression - DV. It’s not the same thing that I grew up with as a kid but then again, it is.
Roses and Rainbows
I wanted to show up with roses and rainbows today. And eventually, somehow I will. Life is just being a bit more “life lesson-y” right now than I was prepared for.
Before coming to the keyboard, I laid in bed and thought of fantastic words and got myself out of bed to write them down.
As usual they drift away through no fault of their own. They play games with my other thoughts weaving in and out of each other.
It’s like rainfall that turns into a waterfall, these trickling thoughts, and then the deluge happens. Worry and grief. If you’ve ever had those feelings you might know how they can snowball.
I don’t think my husband is a bad human but I do think that he takes pride, adoration even, in saying that he is “old school” and that this behaviour is perfectly acceptable because he is “old school” or even that it’s the Australian Way. (Many many Australian men and women would fervently disagree.)
So Why Am I Writing About This?
I’m writing about this as a reminder, to myself and other women. This isn’t considered good or kind behaviour. This is a form of Domestic Violence.
Do I want to leave? Absolutely not, but also Absolutely. What I want is for him to see how this behaviour is hurtful and disrespectful and counter intuitive to a family circle where kindness, caring and compassion is.
Is that going to happen? After 20 years probably not.
But what I can do is change myself, my thinking, my support, my learning, my comprehension of AuADHD and keep learning more about me and navigate my way out of this situation.
I will leave.
I’m not sure how or when.
I don’t even know how to navigate getting out of this situation but I will and I know that it will be a slow process. Process being the key word.
I will not jump ship and run away into the darkness never to be seen again. I will baby step my way out of this situation.
I’ll be setting up my own bank account.
I’ll be finding a job where I can use my skills but also learn new ones.
I’ll be talking to legal support to learn what my rights are and the best/worse case scenarios.
I’ll be looking for somewhere new to live, my own small, quiet, safe space.
I’ll be looking for a way to be amicable with him. I don’t hate him, I hate the cycle we are in.
I will be finding in-office counselling for added support.
It may be months but I will.
Finding the Joy
While I am pacing myself through out this added journey, I have to find things to be joyful for. It’s a matter of self preservation.
This is what I found this week to bring me happiness.
As I share my story, I hope to inspire others who may find themselves in similar situations. The road to transformation is seldom linear, and it's filled with both setbacks and triumphs. Through vulnerability and strength, I'm charting my own course—one that leads to a life of authenticity, empowerment, and the pursuit of happiness.
Life's storms may be unpredictable, but within us lies the power to navigate them with resilience and grace. My journey is a testament to the fact that even in the darkest of times, the pursuit of self-discovery and a better life can guide us toward brighter horizons.
Love,
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