This is not my usual post. But itâs something I had to share. As you read this, imagine how your reaction would differ if this story were being told by a woman, talking about how her husband treated her.
I have been separated from my wife for over a year, though we continue to share a house. We live on separate floors. We share the house because we need to parent our son together, and because we canât afford to maintain two households.
Iâd like to tell you a story, illustrating one reason why I am divorcing her. This is an example of the treatment I have received over the past fourteen years.
This evening, while she was drinking her wine, my estranged wife took exception to the fact that I wanted to talk about how tense sheâs been. She said she didnât want to talk about it.
I left the room (so as to comply with her request).
I went upstairs to use our tiny guest bathroom. She began to yell and throw things around the kitchen, then eventually charged up the stairs and into the bathroom, just as I was finishing and getting ready to leave. She confronted me there, holding her half-full wine glass in her hand. Her voice got louder, her gestures wilder.Â
She complained that I had upset her by wanting to talk when she had told me she didnât want to talk. As I began to feel uncomfortable, I said, âYouâre saying itâs my fault you canât express your emotions responsibly like an adult?â
She said, âYes!! Itâs because you want to go off and take a vacation with your girlfriend!â Then she threw the contents of her glass in my face and smashed it against my bare chest.
The results are pictured here.
I stood there, with shattered glass at my feet, glass shards sticking in my skin, bleeding, for five minutes or so. I asked her to move so that I could leave. She waved the broken stem of the glass in the air and said, âLeave!! Whoâs stopping you?â
I told her she was standing between me and the door. I felt threatened.Â
She laughed and said, âYouâre 6 foot 3 and 250 pounds! You canât feel threatened by me!â
I said, âYou just broke a glass on my chest and cut me. Youâre standing there with the stem in your hands. Yes. I feel threatened.â
She said, âNo, you donât.â
I asked her to move out of the way and let me pass. I didnât want her to think I was pushing her or threatening her.
She held her ground, waved the broken stem and shouted, âGo on! Leave! Iâm not stopping you!â
After I asked her repeatedly, she finally moved a bit and I left, carefully stepping over the broken glass.
I have posted this here as evidence, and to help those who may think that size and gender make a difference when abuse is concerned. People who, like my estranged, think some have permission to feel threatened and some donât.
Abusers come in all sizes and genders.
She and I went to a half dozen therapists over the years. At each initial session, every therapist took a look at me, then at her (5â4â 150 lbs.). Then he or she would gravely ask my wife, âDo you feel safe?â
None ever thought to ask me.
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