Voice Over Artist Abuse

It's really quite stunning that I'm still in this relationship. My last post about emotional abuse was in 2009, and now it's 4 years later. Where did the time go? Where did my resolve go? Why am I still here?

In my house, my abusive wife has started a career in voice over:  recording her voice for contracts she gets over the internet. All well and good, except that she does most of the work in the closet of the master bedroom. And when she's recording, the rest of the house has to be QUIET or the microphone she uses, an expensive and very sensitive Neumann, will pick up the tiniest of intrusions.

So, me, my kids, and my wife's elderly aunt all need to be on our best behavior while she does these recording sessions, or we'll have hell to pay from her. Her elderly aunt takes the biggest brunt of it. She's getting senile, she's very hard of hearing, so you always have to raise your voice a little with her to get anything communicated. This morning, before recording began, she really gave her aunt a complex, telling her what she should and shouldn't be doing, the point of bringing her aunt to tears. And this isn't the first time. I heard her aunt muttering "I wonder if this is what hell is like..."

The M.O. of an Emotional Abuser

Never lets anything go. If you cross a line, make a mistake, the abuser never misses a chance to remind you.

Everything is a problem. Nothing is ever right. Nothing can EVER be right. The abuser has to control the agenda. The abuser has to be sure everybody knows he/she is the victim.

Here are some interesting examples of abuse I've experienced just this evening:

"Why did you leave that vacuum cleaner here?" Earlier in the day, I'd been reminded several times that the refrigerator condenser needs to be vacuumed. In her mind, that meant I should do it right when she asks. Otherwise, she'll keep reminding. I deliberately wait until later in the evening, when I'm ready to do the job. I go to the laundry room, take out the vacuum, set it up near the refrigerator. I walk out of the room and she immediately yells after me, "Why is that vacuum cleaner out? Please put it away!" I don't answer, I go upstairs to retrieve the foot stool that I will need to actually do the job. This is a classic example. Unless she asks me to do something, she can't imagine that I'd ever be doing anything right, because "I'm shiftless" I guess. What the fuck.

"You can't watch THAT TV!" I am living in another room in the house; not the master bedroom. We recently put a TV and cable box in here, so eventually we can use it as a workout room, and there will be a TV to relieve the boredom of working out (actually I prefer listening to podcasts, but that's obviously just me). Because she's angry at me, she comes in and takes away the remote controls and proceeds to go hide them somewhere in the house. She makes the excuse that because I wasn't 100% into the idea of buying the TV, that somehow I must be punished and can't use the TV.

"Here's a pillow, you'll have plenty of time to pursue your porn." She throws a pillow at me, and locks the master bedroom. I on the other hand, am staying in the spare room, which has no lock. When I go to this room, I experience constant confrontations. She comes in when I have the light off, and turns the light on, yells at me, and leaves the room, with the door still open and the light still on. This feels like a very deliberate imbalance. I have to say, the light turning on feels like getting the 3rd degree. These are behaviors I would never dream of doing to anyone, but they are second nature to her.

Living with Constant Abuse

I live with a woman who is emotionally abusing me, my kids, her aunt and mother. This happens every day, whatever I say or do. Tonight I had a friend over to play some music, and at the end of the night, when tempers usually flare up between us, she said, "you're such a jeckyl-and-hide with your stupid friend, asking him to stay to watch a movie." I replied, "I'd much rather spend time with him, than with you." Tit for tat.

Of course, it didn't really go that way precisely. When you receive constant emotional abuse, it stirs you up inside, disorients you, makes you question your sanity. Why would a sane person put up with it? Last night, I chose to be on the couch in the spare room. Tonight, it seems to be a mutual thing. Our night ended with her yelling "get out of my bedroom," as if it was something she was choosing for me.

I followed up with a private deliberation with myself. I told myself once again, I need to get out of this marriage. My life will never improve with this constant source of self-hatred. Oh, now I remember what set her off. We had been watching a movie, "Good Night and Good Luck," which I chose on NetFlix. She of course fell asleep about 10 minutes in. I said, good movie, and that it will be probably be one of those films that take us a few weeks to watch. She blamed me, saying I'd been practicing piano for a half hour earlier, and had delayed our watching the movie until 10pm. Fair enough. I made the off-handed remark that my body has been doing better on less caffeine; I had drunk mainly decaf all week and my digestive system seems to be operating more healthily. Then I said I limited myself to two cups of regular coffee today, which is Saturday. She replied, incredulously, "how is that limiting yourself!?" Well, I said, compared to how much I normally drink, that's quite low. Things unraveled from there. She continued criticizing, and she said she couldn't care less about the caffeine thing. I said it was obvious she really doesn't care much about me at all, mainly because of her daily behavior, not what she says.

Meh. This posting is a jumble. But it reflects my state of mind most of the time. I need to find a way out. I need to grow some balls, and move on with my life. I need to divorce this woman.

Healthy Toes

About 15 years ago (1995 or so), I was on a business trip and had some pain in my left foot big toe. Little did I know that it would develop into a nasty case of toe nail fungus that I would carry with me until this year (2009). I start off with this topic, because it is a metaphor for inaction. My toes developed this condition, but I preferred to hide it in my shoes; avoiding wearing sandals; avoiding looking at it. It also became a symbol of why I couldn't be loved. I was in a relationship that I began back in 1984, and now that I had this fungus, I felt like nobody else would ever be able to get past it. I was stuck with my relationship, I was stuck with the fungus.

Ironically, I also became married at about the same time as I developed this physical malady. I married this woman, whom I met in 1984, because it seemed like the logical next step in my life. We were both finished with our higher education. I went to graduate school and she went to law school. What was left but to get married, and start a family. Seems logical.

Little did I know, getting married would begin a process of bringing up deeply repressed issues. Within the first month of marriage, we found our family in crisis. Even on our honeymoon, I found that I didn't just have eyes for her. We were in Mexico, and of course, the opportunities for my eyes to wander were numerous and distracted I was. A month later, I found myself seeking out the attentions of other women.

How did I get myself into this mess? And now in 2009, after going through so much, why do I still find myself so unsettled, even though I now have a family of a wife, a son and a daughter. Why do I dream of being single again? I'm writing this blog to sort this out. This year, I finally decided to do something about the toe fungus. I got a prescription from my family doctor, took pills for two months, and lo and behold the toe has cleared up. There is hope.