My Divorce Story

“I want to get a divorce,” I sob into my hands, “ I can’t do this anymore”.  Dexter is sitting beside me while our marriage counselor, Sylvia, waits quietly across from us, watching.  We are in a small office with a large window, cheery light flooding the room. With the aesthetically pleasing decor, an Essential Oil diffuser puffing  “Citrus Bliss” gently in the corner, and a variety of calming sensory objects, the room was a perfect picture of calm serenity. But today, all the sunshine and Japanese sand gardens in the world could not disperse the overwhelming despair engulfing me. Dexter doesn’t look shocked at my statement, just quiet, like a tolerant parent dealing with an uncooperative and belligerent child. “Let’s just go and talk about this at home” he says calmly.  But I know he’s just trying to get me alone to convince me to stay. He knows that he will be able to somehow persuade me like he has all the other times before. When we’re alone, he always wins. I’m always trapped by his smooth words and twisting logic until I’m not only persuaded, but wholly convinced he's right. I forget who I am and what I want, becoming the docile and placating wife he designs. Not again, I can’t let him do that to me again, I remind myself.  “I-I’m so sorry” I whisper looking down at my hands, my voice barely audible.  I’m trying to stay firm but I can’t look at him. I feel as strong as a reed in a hurricane.  With his hand now gripping my arm, Dexter continues to press on me, urging me to go back with him.  His words begin to flood my mind, swirling around me, drowning me. I feel my grip loosening on my resolve. 
**********

two weeks after the wedding I started to feel different. I felt guilty constantly. I began to feel distant from my family and guilty if I spent time with them.  I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was walking on eggshells. I was anxious and depressed. Dexter was treating me differently, he was almost like a different person. What was going on? 
Following the advice of my mother, I began to read stories and blogs written by individuals who had been in abusive relationships.  In them, they described how they felt and as I continued to read the experiences of those people, I felt I was looking into a mirror.  I realized that we were in the same situation. The many voices expressing feelings which reflected my own were finally able to put a name to the strange phenomenon I was experiencing.  I wasn’t going crazy. There was something actually wrong in my marriage.  
At the beginning of this journey, abuse sounded like such a big word.  It invoked images of late-night drinking and bruises. I had a hard time believing that Dexter was abusive and that I was being abused. But emotional, mental, and verbal abuse works silently, imperceptibly eroding your self-confidence, convincing you that you are worthless and everything is your fault.  An abuser becomes the physical embodiment of that voice in your head that always discourages you, that hateful little voice that tells you that you aren't pretty enough, smart enough, good enough. They gravitate towards those who are insecure, using their victims’ own self-doubt to control them. This was me.  I was a perfect target for someone like Dexter. I came to realize that if you think you are worthless, then you’ll find someone who treats you that way. I never recognized before how little I thought of myself and how my self-hate could turn into this, how it could lead me to a relationship like this. 
As a year and a half passed, things got worse.  When we had been dating, he was so charming and kind.  He would go out of his way to do things for me and found ways to make me laugh.  But once we were married, I lived with a fragment of the person I fell in love with. Well, until I did something to upset him.  It might have been because dinner was late, or because I spent time with my sister, or because I bought a pair of shoes from Walmart.  If I did, said, or even felt something he didn’t like, he would punish me. He criticized everything about me telling me I was lazy, immature, or naive.  I lived in constant fear; I was a small boat dashed about on the unforgiving waves of his ever-changing emotions. 
Due to the constant psychological abuse, it was hard to see the repercussions this relationship would have on me and my future.  It is typical when in an abusive relationship, you want to pretend there is no abuse at all and that everything is fine. There is an oppressive elephant in the room and yet you somehow convince yourself that it’s not there: that elephant-shaped mass is simply furniture, the thing blocking out the sun is only the drapes, and that horrible smell is just a new candle fragrance called Denial.  
To keep the peace and my sanity, that was the way I lived. But one day, clarity struck.  I could no longer ignore the reality of my situation. This moment of clarity came while shopping with my mother at the grocery store.  Near the check-out line, we ran into a woman from my home ward with her eight children. All I really knew about this mother’s life was that she had been married to an abusive man for almost 20 years. This poor woman was overweight with greasy hair draped limply around her tired and bedraggled face.  Her mob of children were running everywhere. They were wild and just as unkempt as she was. She and my mother chatted and I listened to their conversation over the din of her out of control children. While listening to her woes, framed by the dismal state of her and her children, clarity and foresight hit me like a truck, or perhaps an elephant. I realized that if I continued ignoring the blaring issues in my relationship not only I, but my future children would suffer greatly.  Unconsciously, I had always vaguely believed that someday things would just get better. But, it wasn’t going to get better. It wouldn’t. Not unless I did something about it. 
Shortly after this experience, armed with my newly acquired perspective,  I went to the temple and asked God what I should do. The answer came swiftly but, I didn’t want to do it.  For all the awful things Dexter had done to me, I didn’t want to leave him. I felt like I couldn’t. I was miserable with him and yet I believed I was nothing without him.  I was overwhelmed and despaired that I would never be able to get out. Maybe this was just what I got in life, this was the best I could─NO. I was suddenly yanked out of the suffocating depths of defeat by several sudden realizations. God loved me. He would never want his beloved child treated this way.  I loved myself and was worth something. I was more than just a powerless victim. It was clear that Dexter had no intentions of changing. He was convinced there was nothing wrong and couldn’t admit he was abusive. He had made his decision, and it was time for me to make mine.

   **********

“No. I won’t go back with you”, I say, determined. Dexter looks taken aback, surprised at my boldness. I pull my arm from his grasp and stand up, moving away from him.  He stands as well, anger for the first time moving from his eyes to his face. He takes a step forward but at that moment, Sylvia speaks for the first time to ask him to sit back down.  Still standing I reaffirm, “I’m not going back to the house, I won’t change my mind. My sister is coming to pick me up and I will be staying with her for now. I’ll come back later this week to get my things, now please leave.”  My words are strong but I’m still shaking. I meet Dexter’s eyes and I can see outrage in his posture. For a moment, with balled fists, it looks like he will crack. But suddenly, the anger vanishes and his hands relax. His fury and frustration are replaced by defeat.  With very few final words exchanged, Dexter walks out of the room and moments later I can hear our car pull out of the parking lot.  

I’m outside now, standing next to the small river that runs by the counseling office, waiting for my sister to pick me up.  I have so many thoughts racing through my mind as quickly as the river beside me. What next? What am I supposed to do with my life now?  What is life going to be like as an LDS divorced 21 year old? How can I ever come back from this? As I watch the little stream babbling along its way, small but constant, I realize that like the river, life will go on.  I was once damned by my lack of self love and Dexter’s control. But now, I am determined to move forward and never let anyone, myself included, make me believe my worth is less than what it really is. 

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