I was puzzled by the changes in Hal after we married. But, I’d heard repeatedly that it takes time to get used to being married, that adjustment time is reasonable. I thought it could all be worked out, that we could talk about any problems, come to reasonable conclusions and find solutions. He’d been so reasonable, so logical, so respectful of my own thinking before I married him. I had no reason to doubt that it would continue.
But, it was different now, he was suspicious of my motives when I wanted to talk about something personal between us. There was a subtle shift, to the effect that he felt he had to protect himself from me, that I was an adversary. It seemed that nothing was ever actually settled in our discussions. He’d agree to something, after a long debate about it, but he’d not change what he was doing, or if he did, he’d simply find a new way to do essentially the same thing.
He’d make me late, but insist it was me who was always tardy, and that it was inconsiderate and embarrassing to him for us to show up late. Then he’d punish me in some way for making him late. The punishment could be anything from forgetting something important to me, accidentally trashing something of mine, a thousand variations. I didn’t connect, at first, what would happen afterward as punishment, but realized eventually, that that’s what was happening.
The way he’d make me late would be to remind me repeatedly about what time we needed to leave, then, at the last minute, or near it, suddenly ask me to do something for him or take care of something in the house like close the windows. He’d distract me, and then quickly add something for me to do. Because I didn’t know what he was up to, and because I’m a courteous and helpful person, I’d do it. When I figured out what was happening, I confronted him. At first he denied it, was shocked that I’d even suggest such a thing. But, I persisted and proved it. He then admitted, yes he did that. He was so sorry, he had no excuse, didn’t know why he did it, must have been his bad upbringing. I think that was the first one of the cyclical abuse, deny, repent, promise, and then begin all over again sequences I later learned is one of the central identifying features of abuse.
He was emotionally unavailable most of the time. He’d also switch from one personality to another within moments. He could go from acting childlike in a cuteish manner if he wanted something from me or mildly didn’t like something, to being a cold, frozen faced and totally unapproachable robot if he didn’t like my response, or seemingly for no reason at all. He might leave the house as one personality and come back as a different one.
One of the things I found particularly unsettling and unsatisfying was that he’d routinely turn off and on with me. That is, he’d turn from me to his book or his work like turning off a light. I was just not there to him. He’d actually ration time for talking with me, stopping what he was doing and saying, “I can talk with you for thirty minutes now.” At the end of the time, he’d turn away, go back to what he was doing as though I did not exist. No working together and conversing as we worked, little casual interaction during the evenings or on weekends. Every part of his life, I was finding, was planned, and executed to plan.
Because I’m a spontaneous person who doesn’t plan her day that way, I’d not have a ready answer when he’d ask me “What are you going to do today?” I’d give some vague answer, or say, “I don’t know,” not being accustomed to being asked that sort of question.
He would then take that as an indication that my day was his to plan, and he’d make “suggestions.” Those suggestions were my marching orders for the day. If I didn’t find that satisfying, he’d then become hurt, or impatient, or accuse me of not wanting to be cooperative. Then, he’d either pout, with some form of disagreeable experience awaiting me later, or he’d try to argue me into doing what he wanted me to.
Before going to a social event he’d suggest to me what to say and not say, how to behave, and recap it and correct me afterward. I was not someone who needed such advice. If anything, I was more socially adept than he was and less likely to commit a faux pas. But, this had the effect of making me feel like I was somehow not quite up to the mark, inadequate, gauche, flawed, an outsider in an area I’d not felt like an outsider before, among my friends and acquaintances and in new social situations.
Outings, recreations, entertainment's, visits from guests, tended to go wrong somehow. Something would happen to spoil it, or diminish it, more often than not. He’d be offended by something I’d supposedly done or not done, or he’d try to embarrass me, or do something “accidentally” that inconvenienced me, or forget to do something essential that he’d said he’d do, or do it in a way that ruined it, or in some way took the edge off the pleasure. Or he’d just not “be there,” he’d be emotionally flat and distant.
You’d think that all this would have been obvious to me, the way I’m laying it out now. But, it wasn’t. It was in hindsight that I put all the pieces together. There were some good times too. I thought he was just inept, and had a few rough edges. I’d gone to school with him, I knew he was a capable and intelligent person. I’d seen him with other people’s children, I was sure he’d be a great father. I was married for life. We’d work it all out, I’d find some way to do it. I’d never even heard the term “abuse” and the identification of a habitual “punisher” that I read about later was years of searching beyond me at this point. I was full of hope and determination. I’d learn more, and then we’d fix those little things that weren’t working.
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