Memories...

**WARNING - Contains material of a sensitive nature. Proceed at your own risk!**

Was reading over the various new posts on several blogs I watch and there was a new one from elif at "earth laughs in flowers". In it she talks about her EF's rage and abuse as well as his detailed comments to her about his police training and demonstrations on how easy it was to kill a person so as to strike fear into her as a child. As I read this, it brought up memories of my stepjerk's many abusive rages. Anything could set him off from coming home with a bad grade on my report card to ever so slightly overcooking the garlic bread for dinner. Whatever it was, when it happened, WATCH OUT! Suddenly he'd start screaming insults at you, like telling you how utterly f**king worthless you were. If you were lucky, that's all you got. There were times I got slapped across the face, shoved, had stuff thrown at me - once it was a phone book, it missed but when it hit the wall, the binding actually split and fell apart...that's how hard it was thrown - or he'd grab me and shake me violently and spittle would rain down on my face as he continued screaming insults and curses at me.

The largest percentage of his abuse was verbal, matched closely with physical abuse like slaps, shoves, pushes, stuff thrown at you, etc. There was only one occasion in which he truly beat me up and left bruises all up and down my side.

There was a boy at school, a black boy, who had apparently taken a sick fancy to me. I was not interested in this particular boy but he continued to pursue me. He had given me a very graphic note the day before. I can't remember the whole thing but, basically, he instructed me to meet him at the local park and to wear a skirt and no panties and went on to describe what he wanted to do to me. I had ZERO intention of meeting up with this boy and had planned on throwing the letter away first chance I got but, for whatever reason, I forgot about it and left it in my jean pocket.

Well, NM found it while doing laundry and showed it to SJ who FREAKED out. SJ is EXTREMELY racist. I once invited a friend of mine, another black guy who, though we were friends at the time, I had dated previously. We were supposed to do some studying for a test later in the week. When the boy arrived, SJ went into a rage and actually threatened to KILL the boy if he so much as set one foot in our yard. I remember being horribly embarrassed when I had to go out and explain to the guy why he couldn't come in and we'd have to study at school the next day, etc. Ironically, even my NM acted embarrassed - ironic because she can actually be quite racist herself - and actually came out and apologized to the boy and sat and talked politely with him for a bit.

Anyway, back to my previous story. So SJ was apparently already enraged about the letter, unbeknownst to me at the time. NHS and I were getting ready to go to school that morning and, as we usually did, we had our radio playing some music as we dressed and got ready to go. I don't remember what we were listening to specifically, but I remember it was popular at that time and was hip hop/pop type stuff.

I was on my way to the back bathroom and as I passed SJ in the hall bath, he remarked to me to "Turn that N*GGER shit off!!" I politely said to him, not intending to be "smart" at all, that all he had to do was ask nicely. Then I made a comment about everyone having their own taste and just as he preferred classical music, NHS and I enjoyed what we liked, etc. I turned the music down and again made my way to the back bathroom.

I had just gotten the water to the right temp and had bent over the side of the tub to wet my hair so I could wash it when I felt someone grab a fistful of my hair and jerk my head back. It clipped the faucet as it came up which hurt like a mother humper.

It was SJ and he was screaming at me for being a "smartassed little bitch". I believe there were several curses in there about my supposedly being a "n*gger lover" as well. He repeatedly rained blows down on my head and body. A few times he even picked me up, threw me to the floor and then kicked me - hard - as well. The whole thing maybe lasted a minute or two but it felt like an eternity. And yet, it was over as quickly as it had begun. SJ went back into his own bathroom to finish getting ready for work and I picked myself up off the bathroom floor do finish getting myself ready.

I remember being in total shock over what had just happened. Even now the whole thing seems slightly fuzzy and surreal. One thing I definitely remember though is looking up as my SJ walked away and seeing my NHS standing there with this detached look on her face. It occurred to me that she had probably witnessed the entire scene.

Since I was afraid to speak to NM about the incident - though when I think of it now, I don't see how she couldn't have heard what was going on...WHY didn't she come to see what was happening or intervene? Surely she head what was going on as it was a small house.. - I finished getting ready and made my way to the bus for school. Once at school, I went to the restroom with a friend to look at my body and noticed I had bruises all up and down my side.

When I got home that day, I attempted to talk to NM about what had happened but she didn't believe me. Even when I showed her the bruises, her response was, "I don't know how you got those but I DO know SJ would never do that to you." I also remember NHS standing behind NM with this smug look on her face. For YEARS I doubted my memory about this entire incident. It wasn't until about a year ago when I reconnected on FB with an old high school friend of mine that I realized I WASN'T crazy as the girl admitted that, yes, she remembered that day and had been very concerned for me when she saw the bruises. That incident is the only time I remember the physical abuse being that severe though, not that it matters.

SJ was also sexually inappropriate with me (and NHS in a way though nowhere NEAR the way he was with me) though he never actually touched or molested me in any way. For the most part it was stuff like "accidentally" walking in on me while I was in the bathroom bathing or trying to peek into my room when he suspected I might be dressing. He'd also make highly inappropriate comments about my "huge t*ts" or my "camel toe". It got so that I was highly conscious about what I wore when I was going to be around him and I made sure not to get too close or to put myself in uncomfortable situations with him for fear of what he might try. Being around him made me feel tainted or "dirty" in some way. It was as if the air suddenly became tainted when he'd come near me.

SJ had supposedly been sent to Catholic school as a young boy. I remember hearing horror stories about the horrid nuns and how abusive and mean they were. One story SJ like to tell in particular was about how they'd make bad kids kneel on rice grains on a hard surface. You could be there for hours, according to SJ. I don't know if it was true or not but he took this idea and made up a sort of punishment of his own called the "nose press". It involved standing with the tip of your nose touching the wall. Sometimes you'd stand there for a few minutes. Other times you could be there for an hour or more. What you did had no bearing on how long you stood there. Rather, it depended on SJ's mood and how merciful he felt like being at that given time.

The nose presses in and of themselves weren't so bad. I much rather would have had one of those than a spanking (or should I say a beating with SJ's belt?) save for one thing.........SJ would often come up behind you - or, more appropriately, ME - and shove me so that my nose was slammed painfully into the wall. It got so that whenever he'd have me do one of his "nose presses" that I'd stiffen and/or flinch if he walked too near me for fear he'd shove me and slam my nose into the wall. My nose never bled but there were times it felt like it should be bleeding for how hard he'd shoved my nose into the damn wall.

I can also remember SJ showing NHS and I karate moves and telling us how one could incapacitate and/or kill someone if he wanted to. For all I know, SJ never took a karate class in his life. But given his size of close to 300 pounds and well over 6 feet height, he was very scarily convincing to me.

If you were to ask me today, at nearly 34 years of age, if I am afraid of SJ, the answer would be most definitely yes. I've witnessed firsthand his blind rages and his sadistic comments and behaviors. I've seen the evil and coldness in him as he speaks very nastily about God and Christianity. The look I see in his eyes when he talks about those things, it's what I imagine it would be like to look into the eyes of the Devil himself. You can actually FEEL the evil in the air it's so potent around him. But mostly it's his physical violence that I fear, especially when he's in a drunken rage. I've seen him slam doors so hard they actually came loosened a bit from the wall casing. I've seen items thrown with such force that they shattered or fell apart - like that phone book - when they hit the wall or the floor. I've felt the strength in his arms and hands as he held me and shook me violently while he screamed at me. Worst of all, I don't think for a second that he'd stop to consider the effect his behavior might have on my ds or that he'd refrain from hurting me because ds was here at the time. He ever shows up on my door, I'm locking myself in a closet with my ds and calling 911.

Sometimes, like now, I think back on the stuff I've survived and been through and I can't believe that I'm not only still here but that I'm SANE. I also wonder what the hell took me so long to walk away from it all. But, the important things are that I DID survive, I AM still here, I AM sane, I have a wonderful, loving family with my dh and ds and my IL's who love and support me and I've finally found the courage to break free and walk away from the abuse and dysfunction.