1SageSparrow

Raw and honest truth from a survivor of domestic abuse.

[1sagesparrow]

Daring to Dream: The Only Thing I Ever Wanted

What do you want to be when you grow up? “A single mom survivor of domestic abuse,” said no little girl ever. One of the reasons I stayed in my abusive marriage so long is because I’m a dreamer.  I had a huge dream that involved love, laughter, and life built around a family of faith.  A man after God’s own heart who would build a family with me.  I would love him and he would love me and we would love our children.  Whatever we did, our lives would be guided by our faith in the Lord.  There would be years of joy and love and more dreaming along the way. I was naive, not that I could ever have that dream, but that it would be with the first man who said he wanted to be with me.  Just because a man pursues a relationship with you does not mean it is healthy.  

I was naive.  I didn’t understand how devastating a pornography addiction could be to a marriage.  We were still dating the first time I walked in on him masturbating at the computer.  He told me it was only because my very presence aroused him so much that he had to help himself.  I actually felt guilt.  I was naive when I saw how badly he treated his mother, yelling and criticizing her, calling her stupid.  I didn’t understand that it was more than an isolated damaged relationship.  Over the years, I would often recall the first time I saw him verbally tear down his mother as he would tear me down in a similar way.  I was naive when I visited his family home and overheard his father berating his mother and dismissed the thought that the man who said he loved me could ever sound as hateful as his father did.  I was naive to not see how he drank himself into a stupor when something depressing happened in his life, naive to think that this wouldn’t continue into our marriage.   I was naive to think I could love him out of his addiction, depression, anger, and destructive behaviors.  That him simply saying he didn’t want to be like his abusive father meant that he wouldn’t simply because he knew what it was like. 

Habits die hard. I’ve heard it takes thirty days of consistency to start a new behavior pattern or break an old one.  Changing behavior can be very difficult even when you genuinely want to change.  How many of your new year’s resolutions ever make it past January?  Have you ever tried to support someone through their new year’s resolution?  Did those make it to February any easier?  Have you ever assumed that someone in jogging clothes must be a well-seasoned runner, disciplined and making progress? 

Expecting an abusive, controlling person to change because you love them unconditionally is like expecting someone to lose weight because you bought them a pair of jogging shorts. I figuratively bankrupted myself buying him an entire jogging wardrobe.  He was like one of those people who take selfies of their apparent workout, but they’re not sweating and their water bottle hasn’t been opened.  Any time he put on the clothes of loving, Christian husband and father, it was for show.  Just like any well photographed social media post, he made sure the rest of the world saw his best imitation of someone running the Christian race, and could be overly doting to the kids and I in church, gaining ‘likes’ along the way.

Seeing the truth of the masquerade was painful, but it was sometimes less painful to believe the delusion, to hope his latest performance meant he was finally becoming the man he had the potential to be.  So I lied. He has to work over the holidays [on his hobbies].   We can’t come for Christmas [because I’m afraid if I ask again, he’ll get worse]. He just has had a long day; he’s not normally so rude [usually, he’s worse]. He’s a good father [in his own mind]; but he just doesn’t like the baby stage [or any other stage that might inconvenience him]. Yes, the kids love to play with him [until he loses his temper]. I lied to church members.  I lied to my family.  I lied to my own children.  I thought I was building him up like wives in a healthy marriage should, but really I was covering up his sin and enabling him to be abusive by not standing against the abuse sooner.  Abuse is like cancer.  Left untreated, it grows and festers until there are more cancerous cells than healthy cells.  Symptoms are similar.  Chronic fatigue, pain, your normal activities are replaced by the demands of the cancer.  It ends up controlling your life.  At some point, family and friends become concerned.  But when they ask how you’re doing, you lie.  The cancer isn’t that bad.  I can live with this cancer.  I’m confident this cancer won’t kill me.  You think I have cancer?  I couldn’t possibly.  

Eventually something else happens that shakes your world and you decide to get an expert opinion.  Turns out, it is indeed cancer and the only option is surgery.  Getting the cancer out requires a severe no tolerance policy.  Surgery leaves deep, painful scars that can take a long time to heal, especially if you aren’t intentional to let yourself heal.  You still remember the cancer.  It’s impossible to forget.  There’s always a lingering fear it will return to claim your life one day.

But you can’t live your life in fear of the cancer returning and have any kind of quality life.  I had to make a choice.  Do I focus on preventing a reoccurrence of the cancer to the point where I think about nothing else and those thoughts consume my life?  Or do I bravely walk into my new cancer-free life, daring to dream again?  For me, not dreaming is a sign I’m not trusting God to make my life beautiful.  I know his best for me wasn’t abuse.  God is a God who blesses with abundance and I know only he has the power to restore the years taken, years I know I missed opportunities to serve, years I missed the opportunity to be the mom my kids need, one who makes decisions based on God’s will, not the abuser’s will.

I am ready to truly live.  God created me for a purpose.  “For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.” (Ephesians 2:10).  I’m walking into that new life day by day.  I can’t live in regret of not stepping out sooner or in fear of stepping out at all.  I simply must take a step, like a toddler learning to walk.  There are days I feel like an absolute failure.  There are days I’m still filled with intense fear.  Those days are fewer and further between.  Replacing them are the days filled with a deeper purpose.  Praying before making a decision and being able to have peace, knowing it’s of God.

I am ready to dream again.  If and when God chooses to send a man into my life who will love me and my children as his own, I will cherish him.  Not from any selfish motive to fulfill my dream of love, life and laughter, but rather, I know he would be sent straight from God.  I’ll know it’s him when the same peace I have in choosing God’s will for my life is the answer to my prayers asking for confirmation.  There would also be no other way to explain a man with enough love for me and my children, who would accept us for who we are in spite of the trauma we’ve endured.  

Only God knows if and when he will fulfill that particular dream, but God has stirred up more dreams in my heart and I am thankful for those as they develop.  A dream to advocate for survivors.  A dream to live free for my children and me.  A dream to write, to let God use my voice to help someone else.  I no longer dream naively.  My dreams are founded in a secure hope that rests in the Lord, that if I allow him to lead me, I will walk confidently into my future filled with the good plans he’s prepared for me and the good dreams he will gift me as a blessing. 

“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.” (Jeremiah 29:11)

I dare to dream.

https://1sagesparrow.wordpress.com/2019/10/21/daring-to-dream-the-only-thing-i-ever-wanted/

[1sagesparrow]

Sleeping with the Enemy: The Prostitution of Abuse, Part 2, What is sex like with an abuser?

  Part 2: What is sex like with an abuser?

This is the second post in a series. PART 1: Becoming a Prostitute *Trigger Warning* This post contains graphic details about sexual abuse.

Continued from Part 1: …Being married isn’t an excuse to ignore basic human rights of decency.  In a loving relationship, there is freedom to say no.

However, we’re talking about abusive relationships, and how is the non-consensual sex in this abusive marriage context any different from non-consensual sex in a prostitute’s life?  The difference is that if a prostitute gets the help she needs to leave that lifestyle, she is applauded for her courage and new life and not letting herself be used anymore.  Know what common advice is given to abused women when they go for marriage counseling?  Just have more sex.

What is sex like with an abuser? It varies.  I’ve had the privilege to know many unfortunate women who have been sexually abused in a marriage like me so I will share their voices along with mine: * It was physically painful.  Animalistic.  There was no concern for my well being. *He would put sleeping pills in my drink so he could rape me while I was comatose.  Later, he would tell me everything he did to me and laugh hysterically about it. *It was actually good physically, the only time he acted loving towards me.  It kept me confused about being in an abusive relationship. *I was not allowed to visit my family unless we had sex first. *He forced me to watch porn and then he made me reenact it. *He wanted me to orgasm to prove his manliness, but he always hurt me, so I faked it to get it over with faster. *He got me pregnant and then denied I told him (more than once) I was ovulating that night and blamed me for “another mouth to feed.” *He would withhold sex along with affection as a tool to make me compliant in other areas of our relationship. *He took pleasure in calling me his whore, his b****, telling me he’s going to f*** me so hard while slapping my ass.  I had to repeat it back to him, telling him I was his whore, etc and to f*** me hard, etc.  I hated every minute of it.  I didn’t feel like a wife.  I felt like his whore.  I didn’t feel like I had a choice. *He would come home drunk in the middle of the night and I’d wake up to him screaming at me, and tearing my clothes before he raped me.  The next day he’d act like it never happened. *It wasn’t the physical act that was bad, but the emotional turmoil.  When I did orgasm, I felt like my body was betraying me because of how mean he was to me and the kids during the daytime. *My baby was born prematurely because he insisted on sex- against medical advice- and it wasn’t gentle. *He became angry and aggressive if I did not go along with his sexual fantasy/role-playing ideas.

*He tried to get me pregnant without my consent.

*He was so rough with me that I have lasting physical damage. *I used to close my eyes to make him think I was enjoying it, but the truth is I tried to forget it was happening while it was happening. My therapist called it disassociation.  To prevent further emotional trauma, my mind was trying to escape the awful reality of the situation.  But the memories still haunt me.

As a side note, more than one of the women’s voices represented here almost died after a failed attempt at murder by their abuser. Coming Soon: Part 3: Breaking free from the Lies https://1sagesparrow.wordpress.com/2019/10/04/sleeping-with-the-enemy-the-prostitution-of-abuse-part-2/

[savedbyamoose-blog]

I thought because he didn’t hit me it wasn’t abuse

[1sagesparrow]

This is why I started writing.  I want people to understand and I don’t want anyone else to have to suffer through abuse the way I did.

[1sagesparrow]

Sleeping with the Enemy: The Prostitution of Abuse, Part 1 of 3

PART 1: Becoming a Prostitute

*Trigger Warning* This post contains details about sexual abuse. Do you know where most prostitutes come from?  Young, impressionable girls fall for a man who fills them with dreams and promises of a better life.  They run away with this man and things are fine for a while, until they’re not.  The same man who seemed so loving at first, who they trusted enough to leave their family and friends– he mistreats them, rapes them, sells them to other men, and she knows leaving isn’t an option, because he’ll come after her.  Not to mention the shame of what’s happened to her is too horrific for her to imagine being accepted back by her family, even though it wasn’t her fault.

I consider myself as a prostitute.  Parts of my identity were stripped away from me over time until I had no idea who I was anymore.

I love singing, but he didn’t like it, so I stopped singing around him.  He didn’t like my hair color, so I dyed it for him.  He didn’t like my family, so I made excuses about why we couldn’t visit.  He didn’t like my friends, so I saw them less and less.  He made fun of my accent, so I changed my voice.  There was no way for me to even begin to fulfill God’s purposes for my life, because I wasn’t even myself.  But that’s just part of the prostitution. Sex.  Can we be real about what this is like in an abusive marriage? You end up “selling” yourself for many reasons.: 1. Generally, it makes the abuser happier, temporarily at least.  A happier abuser is a safer abuser, which means your kids are safer.  What do you think you would you do to keep your children safer?  Answer: Anything that you think might help. 2. You are still hoping he will change and that this intimate act will encourage that, because he’s told you that his “love language” is physical touch and you’re genuinely trying to be a good wife and save the marriage all by yourself. 3. Spiritually-influenced abuse.  For me, scripture was taken out of context to say that my body belonged to him and therefore, he could access it whenever he wanted and do to it anything he wanted. 4. You know that if you don’t, there will be repercussions.  What possible repercussions?  It’s impossible to know with an abuser.  He might not let you leave the house for the rare night out with friends.  He might be meaner to the kids.  He for sure will be meaner to you.  The threat of the unknown punishment is a powerful tool in the abuser’s pocket. Consent is essential in any relationship and just because you end up having sex does not mean you consented.  Just because you are married does not mean all sex or even physical touch is consensual.  Marital rape is a real thing.  Are you wondering what qualifies?  Did you feel coerced into sex?  Did you feel like you couldn’t say no, even if you never actually said it?  Did anything happen that you didn’t want to happen?  If you answered yes to any of these questions, that counts.  Being married isn’t an excuse to ignore basic human rights of decency.  In a loving relationship, there is freedom to say no. Coming Soon: Part 2: What is Sex like with an Abuser? Part 3: Breaking free from the Lies https://1sagesparrow.wordpress.com/2019/09/22/sleeping-with-the-enemy-the-prostitution-of-abuse/

[1sagesparrow]

A Conversation with my PTSD

Living with PTSD is no joke, no simple matter of occasional, isolated episodes.  I hope this dialogue helps you understand what it’s really like. 

Me: OK, PTSD, today you are not going to control me.  You are going to leave me alone.  I’m going out.

PTSD: Ha!  I’ll always be with you.  Everywhere you go, I’ll be in your mind.  I control your body.  I control your life.  You’ll…

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[timbllr]

via weheartit

[1sagesparrow]

When you are the person you were created to be, you won’t allow people in your life that steal your joy.

[1sagesparrow]

A Conversation with my PTSD

Living with PTSD is no joke, no simple matter of occasional, isolated episodes.  I hope this dialogue helps you understand what it’s really like. 

Me: OK, PTSD, today you are not going to control me.  You are going to leave me alone.  I’m going out.

PTSD: Ha!  I’ll always be with you.  Everywhere you go, I’ll be in your mind.  I control your body.  I control your life.  You’ll…

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[bibicharlotte]

Abuse is a lingering memory I am too embarrassed to tell. It hides in the odd little quirks I have, and the fears that haunt me as I walk through every door.

Clover Bundy (via bibicharlotte)

Healing takes time and intentionality, but it’s possible.  Don’t give up!  I speak from experience.

[mybrainistotallyfubar]

i see a lot of shoutouts specifically for victims of rape and sexual assault, but not many for victims of other types of abuse. all abuse is inexcusable. yes rape and sexual abuse are awful, but they are not the only ways someone can be abused. so here’s a shoutout to all of us victims. we all deserve one.

shoutout to abuse victims for being strong enough to survive.

shoutout to victims who were sexually abused.

shoutout to victims who weren’t sexually abused.

shoutout to victims who were emotionally abused.

shoutout to victims who were physically abused.

shoutout to victims who were verbally abused.

shoutout to victims of domestic violence.

shoutout to victims of financial abuse.

shoutout to victims of social abuse.

shoutout to victims of neglect.

shoutout to victims of bullying.

shoutout to victims of passive-aggressive behavior.

shoutout to victims who were abused by a loved one (parent, sibling, friend, or anyone else)

shoutout to victims who denied their abuse because “it’s not that bad” or “it’s not as bad as it could be” or “at least it’s not ___”

shoutout to victims who constantly apologize for everything.

shoutout to victims who can’t speak up for themselves.

shoutout to victims who dissociate.

shoutout to victims who have flashbacks.

shoutout to victims who were traumatized by their abuse.

shoutout to victims who weren’t traumatized by their abuse.

shoutout to victims who developed PTSD from their abuse.

shoutout to victims who developed C-PTSD from their abuse

shoutout to victims who didn’t develop PTSD or C-PTSD.

shoutout to victims who haven’t yet or are unable to heal.

shoutout to victims who are in the process of healing.

shoutout to victims who have healed as much as they can from their abuse.

we are strong. we deserved better. and we can recover. 

[1sagesparrow]

Find your voice.  You’re stronger than you think.

[pepper-spirit]

Abuse: My Story

I met him online. On Kindred Spirits. Even though I don’t think he deserves the respect as he showed none, I will be referring to him as X from here on out.

He was nice. Always asking me how I was doing. And I know it’s simple but no one else really cared.

He understood me. Even though we never met, I felt like we were together. I have never even felt how I felt with X with people I have had physical relationships with.

He was different. It’s crazy to think that if I saw him on the streets, he’d just be another stranger.

After the talks we had every night for weeks, and eventually months, he started asking me for help.

To help him to find these random people on the internet. And it was weird, for sure, but I trusted him and I wanted to make him happy.

So, I complied. And I did research for him and I would stalk these people for him and give him information for who knows what.

And then eventually, I was through with it. He had me monitoring the facebook of this new mother. Looking through her photos just felt wrong.

It felt like I was reading things I shouldn’t. Like I was somewhere where I wasn’t supposed to be.

But then X decided that quitting wasn’t an option. And he threatened to release all of the personal things I had sent him. (I don’t wish to go into details) He said he even knew where I lived. And I quickly realized how much he knew about me. 

And how little I knew about him.

It made me almost want to throw up. How could I be so naive?

Regardless, after him trying to blackmail me, I stood strong. I deleted every correspondence I had with him, (which I regret now as they could have served as evidence), and blocked him on everything.

I still feel like he’s watching me though. That he found some sick way around the walls I put up and he’s reading this now. 

And that’s the worst part about it. That abuse doesn’t end when the relationship ends.

[1sagesparrow]

Proud of you for sharing your voice.  I’m just starting to share mine.

[domesticabusenoexcuse]

[1sagesparrow]

Loving yourself is not selfish.  Why would you love yourself any less than God loves you?  You are fearfully and wonderfully made.

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/1sagesparrow

[1sagesparrow]

Lord, let my suffering be part of someone else’s healing.

[sunsetquotes]

You can, you should, and if you’re brave enough to start, you will.

Stephen King; On Writing (via sunsetquotes)

I am brave enough! https://1sagesparrow.tumblr.com/post/187498255956/the-reason-i-write

[1sagesparrow]

The Comfort of Abuse

The Comfort of Abuse

One of the most common questions asked of a survivor is:

“Why didn’t you leave sooner?” 

There are several reasons.  How could she provide for the kids?  Where is she going to go?  She may feel that he will certainly find her and kill her so she thinks it’s safer to stay in the “normal.”  Many times there is religious pressure to save the marriage and guilt put on her to be a better wife…

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[1sagesparrow]

The Reason I Write

I am a survivor of domestic abuse.  This is why I write.  It’s my hope that through my writing, even one person would be helped. I yearn for women to be set free from abuse.  I am pleading for more people to rescue them.  I want to show what abuse is really like, without any sugarcoating.  I want to share the ugly truth, raw struggles, and real healing.   The song below has been my heart’s cry for a couple years now.  Living in an abusive marriage, I was so isolated from community.  I wasn’t really free to share how bad things were, how afraid I was all. the. time.  Singing this would remind me that I had everything I needed in Jesus and that he was taking care of me and I could be free in spirit while living in the abuse. Now I’ve been out of that marriage awhile and the freedom I’m finding is a beautiful thing.  One thing I haven’t had is a real voice due to the threat of retaliation from my abuser.  Now, with this alias, I can be safe to share what he threatened to silence.

I have a story to share.   I have a voice for a reason.   I will not be silent.     I am one Sage Sparrow. 

Why should I be discouraged? Why should the shadows come? Why should my heart feel lonely and long for Heaven and home? When Jesus is my portion, A constant friend is He. His eye is on the sparrow, and I know he watches me. I sing because I’m happy, and I sing because I’m free! His eye is on the sparrow, and I know he watches me.