Men get abused, too.
I’m not going to talk about the different types of abuse because I’m not a shrink. I’m going to talk about the abuse that I received. This will be on-going, but this is this start.
It started small. She’d make snide comments about me and blame it on the alcohol we, probably too much, drank. Over time, those snide comments turned from jabs to insults. I couldn’t do anything right. I was a piece of shit. I wasn’t worth anything. It got so bad, that I got rid of all of the alcohol in the house. She claimed that she couldn’t ever remember what she said, so almost every weekend for three years I got to remember being tortured, while she got to forget.
Then, the comments started getting peppered in to regular conversations while sober and by that time, I had started to believe them. I felt like a piece of shit. I felt like a loser with no life or friends. I felt like someone who wasn’t worth love.
It got worse when she started doing it publicly. She would make comments about my appearance, try and correct me or disagree with me every chance she got, and belittle me in front of my loved ones.
I was alienated from my family, from my friends. I was cold and bitter and hurt. I was angry. But, most of all, I was abused. My emotions, my fears, and my happiness didn’t matter. I went two years without hearing the phrase, “I love you.” This is the short of it. I just needed to get the words out. Why didn’t I see it? Maybe time will tell.