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Rated: GC · Non-fiction · Biographical · #2320142
Forgiveness does not apply in these "relationships"
Forgiveness towards a person who abused you in a relationship is not a healing method for survivors. We spend the entire relationship forgiving them for abusing us over and over again. We make excuses for their behavior. We validate their feelings and listen to their stories from their past and their childhood about what happened to them to "make them" this way. They want us to legitimize them and their abusive behaviors so they can excuse themselves when it happens again, and it always happens again.

They want us to tell them that what happened to them in their past causes them to abuse us so it makes it ok. They use their past, and they use any refusal from us to go along with their requests as a reason why they are unable to control their emotions. This gives them a "justified reason" to continue the abusive behavior, and for it to escalate as they are just trying to "get their needs met". We listen to them throughout the relationship as they cry about their pain and how hard it is for them to have had to endure suffering as a child. We listen to them cry about how we are the cause of further suffering because we don't "help" them by acquiescing to all of their demands for attention, sex, food, specified sleeping schedules, and particular methods of cleaning, putting groceries away, and even folding clothes.

We have to validate them for their behavior and it just gives them a reason to continue the abuse. They want Forgiveness so they can feel justified in their continued behavior and patterns of abuse. They never feel remorse and they are never truly sorry. We forgive them and then they continue to abuse us over and over again. And the abusive behavior escalates over time—every time we forgive them it gives then more power and more reason to feel like their actions are ok and acceptable and understandable because of their past and their difficult experiences and what they endured as children or as teens or as young adults.

There are many people who endure difficult childhoods and abuse that do not continue the pattern of abuse because they do not want their children, their loved ones, their friends, their family to have to experience what they went through. We who experience great trauma in our childhood know that it is wrong and it is unacceptable and we do not want to hurt our children and our loved ones in the same ways we were hurt physically and mentally and psychologically. We go out into the world and we see that others have love and treat each other with respect and do not abuse and otherwise harm each other physically, sexually, and psychologically. We realize that there is another way that doesn't cause long lasting pain and trauma for survivors.

Forgiving the perpetrator of the abuse validates their behavior and does nothing to address the harms they have caused to our psyche. I live with the effects of my abusers every day and I can never get back what was taken from me. I can never look in the mirror and feel that I look acceptable or that I am an acceptable human being worthy of someone elses love. I cannot love myself and how I look. I cannot love the skin I am in. I cannot look at myself and feel or say that I am beautiful and worthy of love or of anything truly "good". No matter what, even the people who have said they love and care about me, they say one thing, but then their actions and further words do not match. Their statements are always contradictory. They belittle and talk down to other women who are strong and powerful and make comments about other women’s bodies. They constantly compare us to other women and expect us to adopt traits and behaviors they like from them because they find them to be submissive or "pleasing" and they compare our worth and value based on our lack of these traits and behaviors through shame. Through making us feel ashamed of ourselves and of our bodies, our appearance, even the way we speak, write, move, and interact with other people and the world and even simply how we perform daily activities. They constantly tell us how that if we just did things like this or did things Iike that, did things "their way" then everything would be "better" and they would be happier and feel better; therefore, we would be treated better, but that's all lies designed to make you feel ashamed and worthless, designed to beat you down so that you are easier to manipulate and control.

Yeah, it will all be so much better... for who? Better for them? If we just wore our hair like this or dressed like that then it would be so much better, don't you see? You look so much better when you dress like that. Why are you wearing that? You don't want to go out like that. You look like a homeless person, lol. Why don't you take your hair out of your hoodie? Why don't you get your hair done and cut and bleached, it looks so much better when you make yourself all fake, but hey, you know I like women who are natural.

Then, when you don't take your hair out of your hoodie and you say it doesn't bother you and you feel fine about it, they pull your hair out and then tell you, "There, that's better. Stop wearing your hair like that, it looks bad. Leave it out of your hoodie." Then, you have to feel uncomfortable all the time and like no matter what you do or how you dress or wear your hair it is never ok. It is never your decision because your decisions are "wrong" because you just don't "think" properly.

Or, you don't use a knife and fork properly so the man grabs your fucking cutlery out of your hands while you are eating and cuts up your food like a fucking child in front of a group of adults at a Christmas function, so you can sit there and feel belittled and humiliated in front of people you barely know while he laughs and says, "You're just like a kid and can't even cut up your own food and oh, look isn't it so cute." No, it's not fucking cute and it was never ever fucking appreciated to have my fucking autonomy taken away from me over and over and over again. To have some creepy fucking man spy and listen to how many times I get up in the night to go to the bathroom and then text me out of concern the next day while I am working to ask if I was "ok" because he heard me get up and take a bunch of small pees throughout the night. What kind of creepy fuck does shit like that? Spy on his wife and constantly creep on her and what she does at all hours of the day and night?

I never had any fucking privacy in my own fucking home! Couldn't even make my own decisions about food as he constantly insisted thay he shop at Costco on the weekend before he went out riding with his friends all weekend, so I had to make a list of what I wanted instead of just going to the store to get what I wanted when I wanted it. And if I did not put anything on the list by Friday he would get mad and decide what I needed for the week for food and other stuff from the store. I never wanted anyone, and I still don't want anyone to fucking buy my food and clothes and tell me what I should eat and how I should dress. That is not for someone else to dictate to me. That is something I get to decide for myself as an adult.

Oh, and then he would complain about how much food I ate and how quickly I went through all the cheese and the mayo and the peanut butter and the honey and the ketchup and the Larabars, and how quickly I ate all the salad and the fruit and vegetables. He complained constantly about how much I ate—even when I was skeletal skinny! And then he would get even more mad when I would eat "his food". Like he would get mad if I opened the fridge and used "his" margarine or "his" raspberry jam. And sometimes I would want something sweet so I would have a granola bar or a cookie every so often and he would get fucking mad about it!

So I was not allowed to even eat what I wanted when I wanted. I had to make a specific list that needed to be ready by Friday evening. And he said if I wanted to eat cookies then to let him know and he would buy me a box of cookies, but I didn’t eat them routinely. Maybe once a month around my period I would crave sugary stuff so I would eat some cookies or granola bars. And why was that such a big deal anyhow? He actually fucking counted the granola bars and cookies and would monitor how many were left every day. Not sure if he also marked the spot on the bottle and jars of stuff in the fridge also to monitor how much food I was eating, but it wouldn't surprise me. I know when I did eat some of "his" food he would always "know" because he would get mad at me the next day and ask me if I ate some of "his" jam and why am I eating it and what am I eating it with because I don’t eat bread so what am I even using jam or margarine for. What the fuck is that any of his business to know exactly every fucking bit of food I eat and how I prepare it and when I eat it? Did he read the instruction manual for how to be the perfect Nazi guard or POW camp warden? Like what the actual fuck!

Then, when he saw me changing my clothes and looking at myself in the mirror in different outfits, trying to decide if I wanted to wear something or not, he would ask me why I was changing my clothes and if I was worried about looking fat, and then he would say, oh you are not fat, you don't need to worry about being fat, but then he would tell me at other times that I don't need to worry if I have gained weight because I exercised so much and would lose it quickly. And all the too small clothes he constantly bought for me was another obvious conflicting thing he would do to "encourage" me to lose weight, while also telling me I was not fat, but then also complaining about how much I ate and monitoring everything I ate.

And not only would be complain about how much I ate, but he would complain about how much I exercised and how much time I spent on the computer researching and studying–even when I was in university full-time and had to study! He complained about how much time I spent playing video games and how much time I spent at the library and why do I take out and read so many books. He complained about how much time I would spend cleaning the house and why did it take me so long to clean the house/condo and why didn't I just stop cleaning, or stop exercising, or stop reading, or learning and just spend all my time with him instead?

Dojng what? Sitting on the back of a motorcycle while he rode it all around the island? Standing in front of Tim Hortons talking about bullshit that has zero impact on anything that actually matters in this world? Complaining about how people drive and about kids skateboarding and having fun? Or hanging out with him while he watched stupid sitcoms and reality tv bullshit? He would barely get through an episode before he would be sleeping and snoring loudly on the couch. No thank you. He stunk and was shallow and boring and not at all intelligent. I would rather read or study online and read about all the human rights and democratic issues amd environmental concerns and other stuff online—stuff about wars and news and genocides and terrorism. I spent a lot of my time signing petitions and writing letters to political prisoners and educating myself on as many things as possible.

Oh, and I spent lots of time volunteering as well in addition to learning and doing advocacy "work" on the computer—while I ate my cheese and gobs of mayo with zero shame while he told me what I was eating was gross and disgusting and not normal. Sometimes, I like to eat natural no salt peanut butter straight from the jar with a spoon. It doesn’t make me feel ashamed. I did this as a kid even. But when he saw me doing it he told me it was disgusting and why didn’t I just put it on a piece of bread like a normal person. And sometimes I would eat peanut butter with a banana or with apple slices or even with Larabars. I would often dip the banana or my apple slices right into the jar, which thoroughly disgusted him. He told me how gross it was to do that and how dirty and disgusting it was and didn't I worry about germs and stuff. He told me how gross it was to drink from the containers in the fridge and he would get mad if he saw me doing it. He would tell me to just use a glass like a "normal person". But I rarely wanted a fucking glass of anything and if I only want a sip of something, then why the fuck do I have to put it in a glass? That just created more unnecessary dishes for me to do.

Around my period, I would eat peanut butter with dark chocolate or even some ice cream sometimes. That also made him mad and he would yell at me and accost me the next day and ask, "were you getting into my ice cream last night? Why are you eating ice cream?" I am not sure why I needed to explain why I was eating something "different" than what I "usually" ate. But anytime I would decide to eat something "different" than "usual" or if I decided I didn't want to eat apples anymore or if I decided I didn't want to eat salad amymore because I was sick of it he would tell me that I was impossible to buy food for and complain that I wasn't "consistent" with what I ate or how much I ate.

I never used to feel shame or regret for eating these foods. He pushed hard to make me feel ashamed and confused and feeling "bad" about what I was eating and how I was eating. He would ask why do I eat with my hands, and tell me "that's so gross and disgusting, and ew, gross that piece of whatever fell on the counter so throw it away, don't eat it, ew that's nasty why would you eat that you are going to get sick". He would ask all the time why don't I cut up my food and put it on a plate like a "normal" person. It was fucking endless harassment!

Somewhere deep down inside I know I am quite healthy and in shape. And on some level inside my mind I know I am not fat. I just see myself that way in the mirror. The only time I don't see myslef as fat is when I am literally skin and bones. And I know why I became that why and I don't know if that will ever change. It started during my relationship with my ex, Ryan Andrew Hake because of the fucked up shit he did to me surrounding food and so many other things. He constantly commented about my body while looking at it and pointing at it in the mirror. I wrote lots more about this aspect of this abusive relationship in my book. Anyhow, I don't look in the mirror much now, and that's ok. I just make sure my hair and face looks decent after I take a shower and before I leave the house. And I also make sure my clothes look "nice" for things like job interviews and other similar events.

Anyhow:
I never deserved to be humiliated and controlled and abused in this manner, especially surrounding my food choices, my body, and how I do my hair and what I wear.

Christ, even children are encouraged and allowed to choose their own clothes and have a say in what they want to eat. Teenagers and older children often prepare and cook their own food without their parents telling them or having to make anything for them. I was making my own food by the time I was 10 years old. Even when I was younger I was allowed to make basic foods for myself. I used the stove and oven to make food as a teenager all the time. And I didn't feel shame or guilt about what I ate or worry about what I aate or how much I ate. It never concerned me at all, despite magazines and orher bullshit media.

My grandmother instilled in me to not worry about such things as my appearance because what is important is what is on the inside. Of course, she didn't encourage me to eat candy and chocolate at every meal, she encouraged healthy choices. She also said what was important was that I feel good and healthy. Go outside and enjoy going for a walk. Exercise, but don't make it the focus and obsess over it and how much you eat or exercise because she knew the more you focus on that the harder it is to self regulate—you often end up always worried about if you ate too much or if you exercised enough... and maybe you shouldn't have had that piece of cake so better focus on feeling ashamed of that and what other people will think. She said to just don't worry about those things because your body will naturally balance itself out. And weight is not important. What is important is that one moves their body regularly and eats a fairly balanced and healthy diet that works for them.

There is no one way of eating that is appropriate for all humans. We all have different nutritional needs and caloric requirements based on our sex, body composition, activity level, age, and even our health status/blood markers, amd many other factors. We don't even necessarily need to eat the same everyday. We all need the freedom to decide for ourselves what works for us and what makes us feel good. People who control and abuse other people in relationships do not accept this nor understand it. They think everything should be done according to a specific way and it must be their way because they know best. They know because, hey, it works for them and look how awesome they are, but they don't take into account that we are not clones of each other and we all have our own experiences, challenges, and unique ways of thinking and doing things, and you can't expect everyone to do everything all the same. That's like a communist fucking ideal where it's all done the same all the time for everyone. It doesn't work, it never has, it never will.

Guidelines are great, but we all must tailor things to what works for us as individuals. What works for us when we are 16 years old is not necessarily going to work for us at 25 or at 38 or at 72. Our needs and our understanding of ourselves can change over time as we learn to listen to what is on our hearts and what is true to our spirit. Many of us experience trauma that keeps our "self" suppressed. We sometimes end up having a hard time expressing our real needs and feelings and wants for ourselves because we are taught that we don't matter through the words and actions of others, others who do not have our best interests at heart or in mind—often those who were supposed to provide us with love and care and teach us not only acceptance, but to teach us to listen to our bodies, to listen to what is on our hearts, to follow our own dreams and aspirations, and to chase our goals.

Some of us experience such trauma from sexual abuse and physical abuse, which is often interwoven with psychological abuse and trauma as the perpetrators often shame us about our bodies and our actions—even those actions and behaviors that our abusers encourage us to do and to participate in. They tell us to do things and then when we do these things they call us dirty and disgusting and ugly and slutty. They tell us how fat we are and shame us for eating food. They oink at us when we eat food and then compliment us when we look like skeletons and our stomach caves in. Then, they remark about breasts and curves and "nice asses" on other women who have fat on their bodies. We can never be good enough because we are constantly told mixed messages by our abusers as they attempt to confuse us so that we will rely on then for direction. They want to make us dependent on them for validation of how we look and who we are while at the same time they humiliate and shame us for who we are and how we look.

I used to not worry about what I ate or how I looked, but after being repeatedly and severely sexually and physically abused as a teenager by Shane and Ryan, and then experiencing further sexual, physical and severe psychological and emotional abuse from my ex-husband, Kelly, I will never be able to look at myself the same way I did before the abuse. That doesn't mean I can't do things or function as a regular human being, or that I need to be in therapy or I need to take medication to help me to "feel better". I just accept that I can't turn back the clock and feel like I did before so many years of abuse. I find other things in life to focus on and feel purposeful and engaged in and try not to worry or think about superficial things such as how I look or what other people think about my body.

The best way for me to feel good about myself is to be working and interacting with other people. Talking to other people and helping them helps me as well. And it's not all about making me feel good either as I feel genuine joy and purpose through helping others and being encouraging to others. I was like this as a teenager and as a child too. It made me feel good to give and help others, but it's not some selfish self fulfilling thing I do to inflate my ego or pump myself up to say, "look at me, look how good I am" while I laud my accomplishments about all the stuff I do to other people. I mostly just like to help others as anonymously as I can without being "recognized". Most of what I like to do comes in the form of writing letters of support and encouragement and lobbying policy makers and government officials for change... and sometimes, it is good to share those things online for greater visibility and awareness of important issues. It is important for other people to learn and to know that there are people out there who are in need of assistance or whose lives are in danger. It is important to teach others that there are environmental or political issues or barriers that are inhibiting progression and important initiatives from being launched in many areas. Also it is important for people who are advocating for change and fighting for rights and freedoms to know that there are people out there who care about them and their struggles and their country, and that there are people out there across the world who are listening and supporting them in whatever way they can.

More on my ex-husband:
My ex-husband was always incredibly impatient and always in a hurry. He had to schedule everything down to the minute and displayed a lot of obsessive compulsive behaviors, including around washing his hands, ensuring everyone else had washed their hands "properly", and being incredibly germophobic. He used to use his sleeve or napkins to open doors and would refuse to use public washrooms. Despite his germophobia, that didn't translate to his own hygiene as he frequently stunk very badly and would skip bathing appropriately. He would spend hours in the bathtub or with the hot water endlessly running in the bathroom while he sat on a shower stool, to the point of draining the hot water in the condo building as there would be no hot water for me to take a showe when I would get up to get ready for work. Despite his hours in the shower he still smelled badly like he had dried fecal matter still stuck to him. He would wear the same clothes for days and not even bother to change his socks and underwear daily despite having access to laundry facilities in the condo suite. He could do laundry at any time of the night or day. He would insist that his socks and underwear and clothes were fine because they still smelled okay. He would fling his socks and underwear and other clothing items in my face and tell me to smell them- and then declare, see smells like roses, but his clothes didn't smell like roses. They smelled badly like someone who doesn't bother to take care of their personal hygeine. He wouldn't even wear deodorant or antiperspirant because he said it irritated him, but he wouldn't use the natural stuff and wash his underarms properly either so he always stunk. He then would cover his stunk up by spraying himself down with Axe cologne and using lavender shea butter from Nezza Naturals.

He was so impatient about everything, including when anyone, especially me, would try and speak. He never let me finish my sentences and always interrupted me when I was trying to say something—whether it was to him or to other people, he always talked over me, and for me... like I didn't have words of my own to say or didn't know how to properly speak and express my thoughts.
He was so impatient with traffic, and frequently got road rage. At least once he actually got out of the vehicle to yell at someone for who knows what, not driving according to the "proper rules" and/or not using the right lane or travelling at the proper speed. He was impatient when I would be trying to open the door and get my keys out. He often would knock things out of my hand when I was trying to do things and he would grab stuff away from me that I was in the middle of using or doing something with.

When I would be getting my keys out, he would always be telling me to hurry up and ask me what was taking so long. When I finally left him it took me years before I could get my keys out and open the door without feeling anxious, like someone was going to come up behind me and start yelling at me to hurry up and to stop taking so long.

I would sometimes get home before him or arrive home and he would be out and about on his harley motorcycle. I always felt so relieved when I found out he wasn't there when I opened the door. Often when he was there he would run to the door to "help", meaning he would just unlock and open it while I was in the middle of opening the door myself with my key. It was not helpful. It was super creepy and annoying. Having someone sit there and listen for when you are coming down the hall and when you put the key in the door.

Anyhow, it was nice when I was alone, but I got bad anxiety and would feel very uncomfortable and frightened and on edge when I would hear him come back from riding his harley. I always knew when it was him only because his bike was so loud. It was impossible to ignore the loud sound (much like his incessant snoring at night that often kept me awake). I hated the sound of that fucking Harley because it meant massive drama and stress was going to walk through the door in a few minutes. He would dump and unload all his problems on me about work and his mom and everything else. He would ramble on for hours sometimes just looking for validation and for me to tell him that he was justified to be mad and to act in certain ways in situations at work and otherwise. He wanted me to then allieve his stress by giving him oral sex and performing other sex acts on him when I didn't want to. He insisted thay sex and riding his bike were the best and only ways for him to feel better and feel less anxious. It was the only "help" he needed to deal with his obvious mental stress, which I sincerely believe is a serious mental disorder. After living with him and knowing all the stuff he put his ex through and reading through his diagnosis via the transcript from his final ICBC settlement case, I feel 100% positive that he has serious mental disturbances. He is manipulative, he is a liar and he uses and abuses other people in his life—especially those who are the closest to him.

Another thing he used to "tease" me about was my arms. He used to tell me I had Popeye arms. He consistently bought me clothes that were too small for me and then said that I would fit them soon because of all the exercise and healthy eating, but I kept telling him the t-shirts especially were uncomfortable because they were so tight around my arms. I have always been fairly strong in the upper body "for a girl" due to all the sports and climbing I did as a kid. I was not shy to grow muscles and always have enjoyed lifting weights. As a result, I don't have spindly "girl arms" so most shirts feel a bit too snug around my upper arms. When I told him the shirts were too tight around my arms he decided it was "cute" to tell me my arms were like Popeye arm, but, "don't get upset, it's just a harmless joke", but it upset me and I never found it to be funny.

After I left him and was living in Kamloops, I had one night in particular where I had an awful waking nightmare about him coming into my room and sitting on the bed next to me. He then proceeded to loom over me and laugh his stupid laugh while telling me I had Popeye arms while holding me down forcefully on the bed and trying to kiss me. I was struggling and turned my head to the side to avoid his advances, which I was not interested in. I felt so trapped and uncomfortable. I remember I was frozen and could not move. When I tried to open my mouth and scream for help, all that came out was a barely audible sound, like I had an awful sore throat and couldn't make my voice be heard. I was so terrified, and on some level I knew I was having a waking nightmare. I couldn't get up or make any noise or "wake" myslef up from the nightmare. Not sure how long it lasted, but I eventually opened my eyes and I was alone in my room. The only thing that was different was that he was not there and there was no weight pressing down beside me on the bed anymore. My heart was thumping hard and it took me a few hours before I even felt any semblance of safe.

When I first moved to Kamloops I had many nights where it was hard to sleep because I still didn't feel safe. I kept having a hard time settling to sleep because I frequently had bad dreams about my ex, Kelly Guy Burton, and how he treated me and spoke to me and abused me in so many ways for so many years throughout the "relationship".

To this day, I still hate the sound of motorcycles. Sometimes I feel very angry when I hear them or even when I see them. I especially hate it when they rev the engine. It's an annoying sound. I hate it. It often makes me so upset that I get briefly reminded of him and all the abuse I received and how badly he took advantage of me, the finances, and how he isolated me from family and friends.

I also remember how upsetting it was for me to realize how cold and selfish he was when one night I passed out in the hallway when I was in so much pain from menstrual cramps. I was trying to get to the kitchen to get Naproxen to take. My period had just started so whenever it began, it would be really heavy and painful. I remember there were drops of blood on the floor because I was bleeding so heavily. But I couldn't get up because I was in so much pain. Kelly came out of the bedroom and turned on the hallway light. He said to me, what are you doing on the floor? I told him, I was trying to get to the kitchen to take pain meds because my period had just started but I passed out because the pain was so bad. He stepped over me while I was lying on the floor, went to the kitchen to do whatever, then came back into the hall and stepped over me again and said, make sure you don't stay there all night. Then he turned off the hallway light and went back to bed

I was eventually able to crawl to the kitchen and took some naproxen. I cleaned myself up in the bathroom off the hallway and cleaned the blood up off of the floor. He would get really upset at me when my period started so heavy and I couldn't make it to the bathroom before bleeding on the floor. Despite me using the extra heavy flow tampons, I would still have overflow on the 1st and 2nd days, even when changing them every couple hours.

I have an IUD now, so I don't get much of a period. Sometimes some spotting, but that's it. I can usually tell when it's "time" because I still get mild cramps, but not as bad as before. The IUD implant I have often helps with those symptoms in women. I also totally lost my period for a couple of years after my grandma died because I lost so much weight. It came back after I allowed myself to put on a bit of body fat. Women have a higher body fat percentage than men and if we drop below 15-20%, we often have menstrual irregularities or ammenhorea.
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