Abusing abuse, When the concept of abuse is used by a manipulator

Relationships are filled with abuse of one form or another and sometimes it’s hard to make out what actually is going on.

Sometimes there are clear cut cases mainly because the abuser is a narcissist and without investigating further its pretty obvious.

In some situations it’s so much harder to work out, especially if one part if the abuse cycle isn’t honest, self accountable or transparent.

Three years ago I was arrested for punching my wife in the face. So there at a high level I’m a domestic abuser and violent  Fine, I accept what I did wrong and I accept that the way I delt with the situation that lead to it was wrong.

For years my wife has been abusing our money. it’s a shared resource, its shared between me, her, and two children. Add in there are other entities in the ‘relationship’, bills, expenses, the roof over our head. So we look at it two ways, I see it as “ours” basically a shareing of our shared resource. She sees it as “mine” as in hers.

This causes a real mismatch in how money is handled for the good of all of us.

Just before the punch in the face, she’d got herself into a real financial mess and then dumped on me to fix. She was in full denial, just wouldn’t openly accept what she’d done and took no steps to fix it.

What an absolutely terrible person she is.

So she went along to a domestic violence victims group, where they gave her the space to convince herself that she was being financially abused by me because I was sorting out the problem she’d dumped on me. If I was wired differently I should have walked away from her problems, letting her sort them out. Instead, I placed myself in harms way.

I accept I did the wrong thing by punching her, I accept that the way I went about trying to sort stuff out looks like financial abuse. I’ve made so many mistakes over how I’ve managed this situation. It’s basically been down to wanting to do the right thing for all of us.

But all its done is to make me angrier because no matter what I do, we don’t do it together.

So here we are two toxic people together, now how do we clean up this toxic mess and create a environment that allows healthy behaviours to thrive?


Boxing day 4:30 pm

I write my blog mostly from my MotoG and I find they the stock Android 5 keyboard to be absolutely atrocious I guess I should install a better one, but anyway I digress.

There is no simple way to put it, things in my family are fucked. I know my wife is rehabbing and has made a commitment to stop drinking and even though shes on around 12 to 18 units a day at the moment, its still difficult. It still less than two months since she accepted help and is holding herself together.

I still have a knot of resentment which I need to get past. Frankly, we could have a long way still to go. The gravity of alcoholism could still, very easily drag us down. After her last bingeing session I gave up. I find it difficult holding myself together as all the effort I put into keeping us together seemed to be for nothing. I gave up.

Should I continue to give up, I ask myself frequently. Put it behind me or carry on as is. So here are my choices.

Up and leave, put it all behind me and have nothing to do with her and the children (they are becomming behaviorally quite difficult as they have no good role models).

Leave with the children and try to turn things around by myself for them

Or stay and value the changes and make sure they don’t get worse.

I know there are many combinations, not just the three above.

So, I could discuss the pros and cons of staying or going. but I am an optimist, I truely believe that if we choose to make it better it will become better.

For quite some time my wife chose drinking, which made our life worse. Now she’s in the process of reduction and management, I find myself in a pit of resentment and venom.

A few days ago, someone told me that anger is like trying to throw a hot coal. By holding it you damage yourself.

Well, actually that’s not quite right. You’re throwing that burning hot coal at someone to get rid of it, to get rid of the pain. No one ever chooses to have a burning hot coal dumped in their hand, but she did it to me with her drinking.

Anger is a burning coal, but more often thsn not, thst coal is dropped on you and suddenly you’re hurt. You flinch snd react and throw that coal right back from where it came.

Back and forth, this burning hot coal of anger, hate and resentment goes. At some point it must go out, the laws of entropy dictate that. But for something to burn as hot as the anger and pain of a relationship in distress, not only uses up the the lump of coal. It also burns up our personal energy and we’re left empty.

So where are we at? She’s suffering because of my venom and resentment. Frankly, it stems from having an alcoholic mother of my own. I realise now that I had a black hole in my memory. These a time period in my childhood from around 10 to 14 that I have no recollection of. But every time my wife got drunk in charge of the children, it triggered something in me.

I’ve recently been having these illuminating dreams where my mother replaces my wife and I realise that my fears (which results in anger) that come from my childhood are being replayed when I experience my wife drunk.

So I have to move forwards past this and stop putting my wife in a position where she can fall back on bad behaviours because I hold this knot of venom and bitterness.

I have to turn it around for everyones good. But I feel I want something in return. I followed through with many of her failed ideas, mostly against my better judgement… too often I found myself in a position of “I told you so”. This afternoon I listened to her pain. I accept that she’s holding her own pain as well as taking hurts from me.

I promised her I wouldn’t talk about it again for a few days, but I realise that I’ll end up using it as a weapon. When I do talk about our past and she says ” you always go on about it”, I’ll be able to go. Ha! I didn’t talk about it for x number of days. Not good, not good at all.

So I have to find some way to pour the black venom and bile down a drain and leave it be.

Also, there needs to be some way to put the energy back into the relationship, not just for me and not just for my wife but for the children too.

I’m not so sure this time, how to put some vigour back into things. Somehow we’lk fibd a way.

The daddy effect at the school gate

Oh for fucks sake, fucking school gate mums, what a bunch of fucks. My eldest has been ostracised at school, none of the girls in her class’s will play with her, or invite her on play dates. Why? Because its a dad who is doing the school run.

My wife’s not working now and she’s doing the school run and the other mums are all over her, ”lets go for icecream”, ”lets have a playdate”… Grrr! Maybe it’s because I’m a bit too family orientated and I love my wife, so I won’t go slipping my cock into any ropey old bint (fuck! they are an ugly bunch at my daughter’s school – I’d have to owe my cock a grudge) or that its because I try my best to support my wife and daughters. But then I’ve seen a few of the dads and if I was gay I’d still be owing my cock a grudge and they are thick as planks, try and have a convo about Kafka, Miro, politics or social injustices and it’s like eating a bread sandwich, white, spongy and no flavour.

So in the space of two days my wife has got into the mum cabal, I’m pissed off, my daughter has had a shit time at school, has been bullied and all because a bloke does the school run.

Fucking cows, that’s an extra +1 to my nascent sexism and misogyny.

“Every man should be born again on the first day of January. Start with a fresh page.” -Henry Ward Beecher

When I found the quote in the title I knew nothing about Henry Ward Beecher, I quickly read the Wiki about him to discover that I knew of his sister Harriet Beecher Stowe, the author of Uncle Toms cabin.

So what do I get from this quote.

Every man should be born again on the first day of January. Start with a fresh page.

It’s an interesting sentiment, a touch impracticable, throw off the weight of our past and start afresh, except our personal histories make and define us. So here I am at the start of the year, I’m prepared and working towards shedding my negative attributes (my DVIP supervisor thinks I’m doing pretty well at changing), such as being angry, aggressive – although we’ll see next week when I speak about my annoyance over some of the other men in the group’s denial.

DVIP is good and bad at the same time. Good when you can discuss what being violent to your partner is, with men who have done the same and regret it and want to change. But not good when other men are in full denial, who talk from a script to avoid accepting what they’ve done and believe they are incorrectly convicted.

I look at DVIP and what I’ll learn as a positive thing, I’ve realised I have no empathy towards the effect of violence. I grew up with a lot of domestic violence and violence towards me. It’s difficult for me to process the lists that are handed out. The most recent one was a list of effects. When we were asked what we thought our partners had experience and to pick them from the list. I said that I’d have to turn it around and say the ones I hadn’t done which was three items from three pages of A4. I haven’t broken her ribs, I haven’t broken her limbs, I haven’t raped and I haven’t given her an STD (I’ve never cheated), the rest, yes. There are three in my group of seven who all reckon that they are the ones who have experience all of what was on the list not their wives.

I was amazed at their depth of denial, that they’ve done nothing wrong in their words and don’t understand why they are there. It’s pretty simple really, we have all been charged and convicted of Domestic Violence. Pretty bloody simple. I admitted guilt straight off, the others have gone to court, in most cases it’s very easy for a competent lawyer to argue against a conviction, unless the evidence is pretty compelling (sad, but true when it comes to domestic violence).

Being a perpetrator of domestic violence is not difficult for me to say but very difficult for many to hear. I grew up being punched, kicked, scalded and with a big list of healed wounds from my mother, step father, uncle. For a very long time in my life I vowed never to be like them but one day, nearly two years ago I did become them. Just as it started now it’s stopped, but the feelings of anger and violence are still there and I will not deny them.

Which is why sitting there listening to the denial is driving me nuts. I’ve spoken to my DVIP supervisor and he’s given me the green light to open up and speak about it. I’ve asked him to watch very carefully for the signs that I’m going to become dangerous to the others and the men I will be directing this at.

It would sort of be good to shed my excessive hyper-sexuality, DW my wife finds that sex four to six times a week is more than enough, rather than my preferred four to six times a day (you would think that after ten years of marriage my horn for her would have worn off).
Before DW I was a sex addict, but on meeting her getting engaged and married she has been the only one, her sex drive is high enough and she’s liberal enough that I don’t look elsewhere or get bored as I have with others.

I’d definitely keep my good attributes and build upon them – although I’m not 100% sure what my good attributes are.

Taking his quote at it’s most literal is too difficult, as it would require a form of amnesia that would blank the sum of the attributes that defines me, take the DVIP again, my wife wants the anger and controlling behaviour gone, but wants the positive anger (the one that can spur us on to change) kept and the ability to command and control a situation kept. So as you see its a bit tough.

The elephant in the room: my partners alcohol consumption and my attitude towards it.

We have a drink problem: it’s no where near as bad as it has been yet there is the big grey elephant in the room about it. My wife drinks, I know she drinks, she knows that I know, etc. etc. etc. It’s like a mobius beigel it loops around and never ends.  Where the problem of the elephant is, is that we can’t have an open honest dialogue about it, she gets sulky guilty, I sound angry ranty and we just orbit.

As I say we can’t really discuss it, we have conversations about other people we know who have drink problems or anger issues in a straight forward open honest way, but our own interpersonal problem is harder.

I wish we could eat this elephant or kick it out of the room, but then perhaps its more like the blind wise men describing an elephant. Maybe we’re describing the problem the wrong way.

The difficulties of giving up work to be a stay at home parent, the loneliness and decision difficulties

I quit work a year ago to be the stay at home parent, the decision was sort of forced on me. We had a lot of difficulties managing the work life balance. My wife is very needy and insecure about work plus she has a drink problem. The beginning of last year, saw me taking increasing time off work to prop her up, make sure the kids were collected from school and looked after. While I was doing all this support my wife took it into her head to take out a load of payday loans with out telling me. She felt it was the only way she could offer support. Rather than discussing things and trying to find alternate paths.

So there she was not only needing the props for work, she was also needing the props for her own flawed decision making. So during this time I was stretched thinner and thinner, my own work place were a bunch of needy fucks too, demanding ridiculous schedules for poorly planned stuff and not really considering what they were asking.

Eventually, I broke, went on anti-depressants, sorted myself out, yet we’re not sorted out. My wife’s block on communicating sends me nuts. Here is a good but trivial example and it’s the build up of the trivial which pushes me too far at times.

Somehow my wife doesn’t feel the need to discuss important things that affect the families welfare, rather she wants to spend all her time talking about work and her work colleagues. Frankly, it’s tiring I don’t know these people, I know the work involved I just don’t see the need to bring it home. When I was working it would be a few sentences over and done with, I’m now at home lets focus on this rather than that. My wife prefers to talk for hours often repeating herself about it. It becomes boring and tiring. Suck it up, deal with it and recognise that work is like the playground, the more you let it get to you the more it becomes a problem for you. At the end of the day, your at home in a safe nice environment and you make it safer and nicer by leaving the troubles at the door.

The next problem is that she’s needy for support but won’t take advice on how to manage it. Here is an example of advice, check your phone balance daily, then you can top up in advance of needing it. Simple, straight forward to the point, it’s a bit stitch in time like. You know the proverb a stitch in time saves nine. Meaning solve a problem early and it won’t become worse later (I think she thinks that the stitches referred to in the proverb mean medical stitches – she often confounds me by not knowing what these things mean). So one of today’s trivial problems, I made her aware of something I was going to do, I needed a confirmation from her that she’d seen the text acknowledge the contents and agree or disagree with it. After half an hour which was my time limit for doing it still no response, on ringing her surprisingly she had not received the text. Sadly, my wife is a stupid liar, you know the sort who has to lie even though saying the truth is no harder. I’ve suffered too much of the lying to believe her in anything anymore, she lies like our two children. Did you eat the chocolate cookie, no, then why are your hands covered in chocolate, no they’re not.

So it leads to more and more frustration, which leads to anger, which leads to violence, which leads to guilt and sorrow which leads to atonement and the needy cycle begins again. Our own worst enemies as we perform some kind of Möbius strip manoeuvring around one another.

Anyway enough of this, I have to pick up the sprogs from school now.

Angry, miserably, anxious, and feeling stressed, this is when my addiction kicks in

Today is not a good day for me, I’m down to 17p in my bank accounts and this afternoon I’m taking my eldest DD1 for her first round of chemo therapy. I’m collecting her at 2 with DD2 her sister and schlepping them to the shittiest hospital in east London (and when an NHS hospital is shifty its really shitty). Thanks to the Glorious Ken Livingstone and the deal he cut with certain unions, thus hospital is totally fucked up. Admittedly, DD1 issues are being managed by GOSH which is superb, but they have shared care agreements with our nearest hospital.

So today I’m feeling stressed and anxious, and that boils over into anger, what happens next is a part of my little brain wants me to stop being like this and trips over to my sex obsession to stop me being a miserable bastard. Thankfully my sex obsession is mostly manageable, and revolves around porn, which I think is slightly better than chasing the actual act. So basically now I’m very horny and at home alone.

I wish DW was her so I could fuck her hard, not a rough brutal fucking (I’m top old knackered and unfit for that plus I have a cold) but a good long involved, switch position type that starts off with blowjobs, going down (I’d like to do some 69ing but she hates that position) and then the three standard positions, on her back, on her knees, on top and then finish on her back again before I empty a big creamy load into her tight creamy pussy.

It is a fantastic feeling burying your cock deeply into your partned, I love the sensation of being in her. She has a very neat little pussy and excellent muscle tone, I get to feel her gripping me all the time. Sometimes it can be a tad painful for both of us, because of size issues she needs to be relaxed and wet (hence lots of going down) also there is the issue of going to deep as a bruised cervix and going past it can be uncomfortable and painful. Having said that feeling the side my cock rubbing up against it is brilliant.

I do love being inside her. Sometimes I feel that I’ve let her down by letting myself go over the past few years. It was always a touch of pride that I could fuck someone into a state of shagged out bliss and unable to move. But you know what they say pride comes before a fall.

Anyway that’s now out of my system, on to the rest of the day.