being thirty-three years old,
decked out in a Halloween ensemble,
enjoying the night as much as the kids were.
He said hello, and I distractedly reached a hand to the scarf on my head and explained, "I dressed up too..."
Have you ever been there? Conscious of other people's opinions? Feeling the need to explain and prove yourself, your life, your choices?
I have....for more significant things than Halloween costumes.
I had barely entered adulthood. After spending one-on-one time with him, I discovered a very different person than I had encountered at local events. We were not compatible with each other. I was not what he wanted in a partner, so he tried ruthlessly to mold me into the woman he desired. I had grown up in a community that idolized dating and marriage and was uncomfortable with singleness. Not having a clear mental picture of a healthy relationship or how a man should treat me, I avoided the exit signs and frantically strove to prove myself, to convince him that I was worthy of the title "girlfriend."
He didn't like that I had interests and goals, a life apart from him. He wanted a wife,"not a piano player," and asserted that I would never be that good at music anyway. My hair was never as straight as he wanted. He suggested a retainer to make my lower teeth a little more perfect. He hoped my youthful 90-pound body did not become any larger and told me frequently that I would get fat, due to my snacks during the day. He wanted to get married immediately, but I wasn't ready. Aside from simply feeling that we were both still young, I had begun recognizing some red flags. My hesitancy enraged him. Every date turned into an argument, as he yelled at me for not being a "real woman." A "real woman," he said, would be ready to marry him. He suggested in disgust that I would probably even be okay with my life if I was still single at 30.
For our last Christmas together, he presented me with a marriage workbook. I was not interested in even opening its pages, but since he pressed, I read parts of it with him and dreadfully learned more of his future plans. He believed that, as the man, he should get to make all my decisions for me. He wanted me to take care of cleaning, cooking, laundry, ironing all of his clothes, writing out all the bills---do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. He would mow the yard and fix the car if it broke. I knew that I would probably naturally do a lot of those things for my husband anyway....but the thought of someone commanding me and running my life did not feel right. I know that some couples may operate like this; I know that some people interpret the bible scriptures about marriage like this, and I don't like to debate beliefs....but it did not feel right for me. Communication failed; when we tried to discuss our differing opinions, my first sentence was met with his shaking his head and the two words: "You're wrong." I had moments I felt I could not deal with the emotional roller-coaster any longer, then he would present me with some type of gift and a promise to change---always short-lived. The anger never turned into physical violence, but I began to question its possibility. I often noticed myself inching closer to the door as his criticism and outrage escalated.
Once I finally got out of the relationship, I felt an incredible peace and relief. My first thought in the mornings was, "No one is going to yell at me today. No one is going to tell me I am a terrible woman." I had the occasional tears over the disappointment of it all, but mostly felt free and thankful. I discovered that being single is not nearly as awful as being in an unhealthy relationship.
And I learned the uselessness and waste of time trying to control other people's opinions of me---trying to convince them to deem me worthy and acceptable. I still have moments when I fall back into that human tendency of trying to make sure people approve and don't think negatively of me, even over trivial things like Halloween costumes...
But more often than in the past, I have come far enough to catch that habit and remember that I don't need to explain myself to anyone.
When have you felt the need to explain yourself or control other people's opinions of you?
He didn't like that I had interests and goals, a life apart from him. He wanted a wife,"not a piano player," and asserted that I would never be that good at music anyway. My hair was never as straight as he wanted. He suggested a retainer to make my lower teeth a little more perfect. He hoped my youthful 90-pound body did not become any larger and told me frequently that I would get fat, due to my snacks during the day. He wanted to get married immediately, but I wasn't ready. Aside from simply feeling that we were both still young, I had begun recognizing some red flags. My hesitancy enraged him. Every date turned into an argument, as he yelled at me for not being a "real woman." A "real woman," he said, would be ready to marry him. He suggested in disgust that I would probably even be okay with my life if I was still single at 30.
For our last Christmas together, he presented me with a marriage workbook. I was not interested in even opening its pages, but since he pressed, I read parts of it with him and dreadfully learned more of his future plans. He believed that, as the man, he should get to make all my decisions for me. He wanted me to take care of cleaning, cooking, laundry, ironing all of his clothes, writing out all the bills---do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. He would mow the yard and fix the car if it broke. I knew that I would probably naturally do a lot of those things for my husband anyway....but the thought of someone commanding me and running my life did not feel right. I know that some couples may operate like this; I know that some people interpret the bible scriptures about marriage like this, and I don't like to debate beliefs....but it did not feel right for me. Communication failed; when we tried to discuss our differing opinions, my first sentence was met with his shaking his head and the two words: "You're wrong." I had moments I felt I could not deal with the emotional roller-coaster any longer, then he would present me with some type of gift and a promise to change---always short-lived. The anger never turned into physical violence, but I began to question its possibility. I often noticed myself inching closer to the door as his criticism and outrage escalated.
Once I finally got out of the relationship, I felt an incredible peace and relief. My first thought in the mornings was, "No one is going to yell at me today. No one is going to tell me I am a terrible woman." I had the occasional tears over the disappointment of it all, but mostly felt free and thankful. I discovered that being single is not nearly as awful as being in an unhealthy relationship.
And I learned the uselessness and waste of time trying to control other people's opinions of me---trying to convince them to deem me worthy and acceptable. I still have moments when I fall back into that human tendency of trying to make sure people approve and don't think negatively of me, even over trivial things like Halloween costumes...
But more often than in the past, I have come far enough to catch that habit and remember that I don't need to explain myself to anyone.
When have you felt the need to explain yourself or control other people's opinions of you?
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