Causes of Domestic Violence

When I was in abusive relationship I often discussed with him why he was so crazy. Not that I used that word of course, but I asked him many times why he felt compelled to hit me. Usually after he beat me up he'd be contrite and apologetic for a while (this is known as the honeymoon phase) and willing to talk about. He often talked about how his father abused his mother and how scared it made him, but he also said after he became grown he understood why his father hit his mother. Other times he would say it was like child-rearing: he hit me to teach me to behave better. At the time I also believed in hitting children for discipline so this kind of made sense. Or he would say if I just did exactly what he said he wouldn't have to hit me. The problem with that was I often did not know what he wanted until after he 'corrected' me. He would tell me exactly what I did wrong after the fact.

It was nuts.

I've been surfing around the web trying to find out what causes domestic violence. Check this out:

First, there is learning to abuse. Learning to resort to violence comes from three factors:
1) instruction by others to act in violent or threatening ways,
2) modeling of violent or controlling behavior, and
3) reward of controlling and threatening behavior
Read more

The last one I find especially interesting. I was stumped at first, thinking How did I reward him for controlling, threatening, and beating me? The answer, of course, is I stayed. I rewarded him by staying and participating in that sick relationship. I continued to have sex with him, I continued to take care of him, I continued to turn over my paychecks to him, I continued to behave in a loving and accepting manner towards him. Yes I said that what he was doing to me was wrong, but my actions showed otherwise. By my very actions I was telling him that I believed in and was accepting of the way he treated me.

Tired of Feeling Haunted

You know the real reason I started this blog? It is because I am tired of feeling haunted by this experience. I'm tired of the flashbacks and the quiet uneasy feeling of never feeling safe. I started sleep with a knife under my pillow again, and I begged my husband to keep a gun in the house. I don't even 'like' guns but there it is.

When I left this man I told myself I would never be willingly victimized by him again, that I would try my best to fight back. He told me over and over and over again that if I left him he would find me and kill me. He told me that there was no where on this earth I could go where he couldn't find me and kill me. This man hated me then and probably hates me now, and assured me many times that he wanted nothing more than to destroy me.

After telling me how he would kill me if I left, he would often turn cheerful.

As if what he said was some big declaration of love, and not insanity.

I have built a happy life in the 15 years since I left. For a couple of years after I left him I lived in watchful fear, then I felt like if he's gonna get me, he's gonna get me. I can at least try to live a happy life. I slowly built up my self esteem. I got therapy. I volunteered at a women's shelter. I dated again, and eventually met my husband. I went to college and started writing.

Everything seemed ok. But last year I had women friends and family involved in violent relationships. I had to tell them I couldn't support their decision to stay as I could not involve myself in such craziness. It triggered a lot of bad memories for me...demons I thought I'd long exorcised.

I am considering getting counseling for this again. It is my hope that finally writing my story will help ease my mind. I've only told bits and pieces. But I need to understand why this happened to me and get closure on it. Some things are unspeakable but I will try to write what I can.

Subscribe to Beyond Battered by Email

The First Time He Pushed Me

It was December 1989 and cold. We were on the highway driving back from somewhere in his old rusty car when the car started making noises. He pulled over and the car rattled to a stop. He got out and started messing around under the hood. Then he came back to the car and told me we needed to walk to the next exit and get anti-freeze or something like that. I told him I wanted to wait in the car with the baby as the car would still at least turn on and emit heat.

He said No, come on, it's just a few minutes. So we're walking and walking down the highway, I'm holding our daughter who at the time was 6 months old, when I realized where we were and just how far the next exit was. I stopped and told him I wanted to go back and wait in the car. He told me No, come on. I repeat myself, he repeats himself. He does not seem especially mad, just kinda tired and slightly annoyed.

Then out of nowhere he pushes me down. As I fell I clutched my daughter and tried to roll so my body would cushion her from harm. I landed on my backside with my feet sticking in the air. I was so shocked. I didn't quite understand what had happened. I looked up at him with what must have been a shocked and quizzical look, because he said That's right, I knocked you down. Now you're going to listen to me. He pulled me up and started yelling in my face. I panicked, and with a common sense that was later to leave me for a couple of years, took off up the hill on the side of the highway. He stood at the bottom yelling for me to come down, then slowly started climbing after me. I kept backing up, still holding my baby.

I remember looking at all the cars whizzing by and wondering why no one stopped to help me. He caught up with me and I gave up. He dragged me down the hill and marched me down the road. Suddenly there were bright lights flashing behind us...it was a cop. Someone had called in that they saw us on the side of of the highway; they saw him push me and were concerned.

The cop asked us what happened. I didn't say anything. Then he asked me if I was ok and if I wanted a ride home or to call my parents. I said no. He looked at me for a long time, then snapped his walkie down into the holder. He told us Wait right here and went back to his car. My then-boyfriend looked at me and mouthed the words Thank You. I felt relieved and knew he wouldn't be mad at me anymore. It was like I totally forgot all about being pushed down while holding the baby, and totally forgot my terror in trying to get away from him on that hill.

That was the first time he pushed me. There were many more pushes to come.
Subscribe to Beyond Battered by Email