With my hands on his shoulders, calmness stitched in my voice, and pleading eyes dripping tears, I begged for him to lower his voice…
I never realized how loud he could be when he was angry; until we moved in with my mom for that month in September.
Standing in my mother’s garage, his face inches from mine, he yelled for me to “SIT DOWN!”
Scared that he’d wake up my siblings or that my mom would bust through the door at any moment from hearing the intensity in his voice; I refused to sit down.
Convinced that I could get him to relax, I touched his shoulders and whispered, “You’re getting loud.” I wanted him to realize that the conversation just wasn’t this serious…to ask if we could table this until we’re both calm again…
But instead, he grabbed me…
And while trying to take a step backward to regain my balance, he proceeded to push me…
It felt like I’d been pushed from a cliff, completely trusting of the air and time slowed for that split second… I don’t remember trying to catch myself with my hands but my back broke my fall.
It fell hard against the top of an aluminum fold-out chair and the back of my legs hit the end of the seat…
Stunned from the impact, I immediately grabbed my back and bit my lip to keep from crying too loudly.
Before I knew it, he was crouched down in front of me!
He pressed his nose up against mine and through his angry eyes I could see the terror in my own.
I couldn’t tell you what he was saying anymore. All I can remember is him storming out of the garage door yelling, “I’m going for a Walk!” And the overwhelming feeling of relief as I pulled the door closed the behind him.
He had never pushed me or anything close to this before.
In a counseling session later, when described this moment, he said to our counselor “I just wanted for her to listen to me, so I sat her down…”
It’s so funny how innocently he described the moment I first questioned his heart towards me.
As if he whisked me up and escorted me to a comfortable place where I could hear him better.
His convincing tone however didn’t convince the counselor that evening.
Honestly, I didn’t know how to feel that night in the garage.
And here’s where I went wrong…
I began to wonder what I did to make him so angry.
And that if I would’ve just shut up and listened and let him get his point across before trying to speak, maybe this wouldn’t have happened to me!
I’m sure I sound so dumb…
But the truth is, by this point, I was conditioned to feel this way.
Conditioned to blame myself for his outbursts and lack of self control. Conditioned to apologize and take up for him, take care of him and be this twisted definition of a Submissive Wife!
It was Second Nature by the time this happened!
This wasn’t my fault at all and I should’ve taken what happened that night more seriously!
Maybe you’re in a similar situation and you feel it’s your fault. I want you to ask yourself if you’ve been conditioned to feel this way too!
This was small in comparison to what happens later in our story but remember I told you, that it always starts small, and it only grows from there.