Getting In, Getting Out!

            Joe was a classic abuser in the sense that he knew when he had mistreated me.  I would often come home to gifts or cards, all given with an apology.  I had lived more than three years of apologies. That was his way of making things all right between us.  I often told him I would have rather had him and me in a loving, respectful relationship than all the presents in the world. 

                        I was beginning to shut down emotionally.  I had shut so many people out of my life, not wanting anyone to know the hell I was experiencing.  I was embarrassed that my life was in shambles.  But I did not seem to be able to get off the downward spiral that my life was on.  I lost interest in many things that in the past I had enjoyed.  Fishing had become a chore and I could not even focus on football.  Those lacks of interest should have been a sign to me, but I was in so much pain I did not notice.  I was at the point that Joe could almost say or do anything to me and I would not show any emotion. 

                        Physically and emotionally, I was exhausted.  Lying to everyone

and to myself on a daily basis was taking my life from me.  I was tired of pretending to have the storybook marriage that everyone thought we had.  From the outside looking in, we had the perfect life.  Joe and I were always together, wearing new clothes, driving new cars, taking expensive trips, and I regularly would be showing off a new piece of jewelry given to me because he “loved me.”  The last piece of jewelry he gave me was for our anniversary.  We had no money at the time and he had traded work for the ring.  I insisted the ring was not necessary, given our financial status at the time.  He said he had to give me something because he knew his parents would ask me what my anniversary present had been and I needed something to show.  Quite a romantic thought.  He was concerned more about what others thought of him than what he thought of himself or me. 

                        Financially, we were drained.  Joe was a very giving person, which has its

place.  I supported his giving to others.   But he could not say no to himself, even to the extent of not paying bills in order to purchase cars, antiques, or any other thing he thought he could not live without.  We would have many phone calls every evening from bill collectors, wanting their money.  We were several months behind on our mortgage and once came close to losing the house.  We had our phone turned off several times.  That was almost a blessing.  I was so very tired of lying to people.  And Joe had to keep buying new phones because he would get so angry that he would beat them on the counter until they were destroyed.  Our furnace had broken and we did not have the seventy-five dollars for the part needed to fix it, so we slept in a house in the middle of winter without any heat until he came up with the money to fix the furnace.  There were many times that all we had for dinner was Chef-Boy-Ardee ravioli from a can.  Joe had even suggested that I get a part time job in the evenings, while he sat at home.  He could not have worked at night, because then what would I do?  I certainly could not stay at home by myself without him!  I went as far