Tag Archives: recovery

“Strange game.  The only winning move is not to play.”  WarGames

You may not even know he holds them, but the odds are good that, if you are in an abusive relationship, you have had these thrown at you more than once.

They are trump cards.

Abusers almost always have a trump card or two tucked into their pockets.  Just when you think that your reasoning might bring about a favorable resolution to a conflict, he pulls one of these babies out and drops it on the table.  Then what do you do?  You’ve just been undermined, shut down and dismissed.  The conversation is over, and you have lost.

 “I don’t care what you think.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Just go away and leave me alone.”

“I’m done talking to you.”

“I have made my decision.”

“Just do as I say.”

“You will submit to me.”

“…purify your hearts, you double-minded.”  James 4:8b

An abuse victim’s thought process is a paradox as her mind waffles between extremes  – a simmering resentment toward her abuser juxtaposed against a desperate, if destructive, addiction to him.  The Scripture says that “…the one who doubts is like the surf of the sea, driven and tossed by the wind.”[i]  It is a vivid picture, capturing well the tempest of confusion in which many an abuse victim finds herself as she endeavors  to make sense of the mixed messages she hears.

Dear friend, I have no idea how long you might listen before you decide to shut me out.  But what I have to say is important, and I hope you will give me just a few precious minutes to share what is on my heart.

What I need to say may change how you see yourself and even, perhaps, the course of your life.  Please consider my words.  My prayer in this moment is that you might give yourself permission to be completely honest with yourself.  Listen to what your heart says.  You will know if what I am saying is true.

You see, I know a lot more about you than you might imagine.  I know you think no one knows what is going on in your little corner of the world.

But I know.

 The sun had barely crested the horizon that morning, when I awoke in my daughter’s bed.  Turning over, I realized that, during the night, my neck and shoulders had turned to stone.  I rose slowly and began to massage my neck to release some of the tension and became immediately overwhelmed with an emotional exhaustion too intense for words.  The night’s horror returned to revisit in full force.

Fortunately, none of our four kids were at home – three had spent the night at their grandparents’ house, and one was at a slumber party.  The timing could not have been better, as the evening’s events encompassed a full range of terror and tears that ended without resolution long after midnight.  I had confronted my husband about the relationship he was obviously pursuing with another woman, and he raged at me for having the audacity to eavesdrop on the late-night telephone conversation I overheard him having with her from our bedroom.

It has been said that man is the only creature who runs faster when he is lost.

Sure enough, that was me – trying to survive in an abusive marriage, striving and praying and trying – running ever faster but always headed in the wrong direction.  At long last I found myself backed into a windowless corner where decades of denial had finally run their course.  It was then that I had to offer up my most painful of all confessions.

You see, up until that moment, I had held to my story, the one I had fabricated about my marital destiny, the one that ultimately led to the nightmare from which my children and I now needed to be rescued.  The original account affectionately chronicled how and where my husband and I first met, the way he doggedly pursued me and how our courtship and marriage unfolded.  Surely I had presented an image where it seemed that God had brought us together.

But so many years later I found myself virtually suffocating under a wave of conviction so overwhelming, it felt as though my heart might explode.