Help Claire Stand Strong

It is hard to write something like this. I am sitting here in the dark of our hotel room, the light of the laptop's glow the only illumination. My girls sleep cuddle up with our puppies, safe for now. Yet, someone's absence is a painful reminder of why I am here, to begin with. Where do I start? Shall I start the first time Sean scared me? How he punched a hole in the wall above my head all because I was homesick. Not even a month after our wedding. Or perhaps I should go further back to before our wedding when I expressed how frightened I was of being hurt again. His answer was, "I would never hurt you." I knew then, as I know now, that is a lie. Shall I start the first time the abuse got physical? How he smacked me across the face because I accidentally sprayed Windex on him, getting it in his mouth? Then told me it was my fault. Only married for four months at this point. I shouldn't forget to mention how I was sobbing in agony on the toilet, miscarrying our first baby alone at six months married. All while Sean slept after becoming angry when I tried to wake him.

I wrote that entry a week ago, terrified but feeling an overwhelming sense of relief. It's been 15 years since those first few instances of abuse. I convinced myself Sean could change grow out of his random fits of rage. Kept waiting for marriage counseling, stress management, retirement out of the army, anything to help Sean become the man I kept getting glimpses of. I came to the realization recently that Sean will never be that man because those glimpses are all lies. Smoke and mirrors, to keep me imprisoned in a world of his making. It took one word to wake me up from the nightmare my life had become. Narsaccist. Also commonly referred to as Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD).

I started reading this book recently by Don Barlow. He said, "Phycologists characterize narcissism by their grandiose sense of self-importance, a lack of caring or empathy for others, need for endless admiration, and a belief that they hold some special place in the world and should be recognized as a unique and beautiful creature." That meant Sean's career or education was more important than anything else. He would constantly gaslight me for not supporting him, stressing him out, or distracting him. When I asked for help with the kids or time to take an uninterrupted bath, I always knew his answer would be no or let me check my schedule.

Everything wrong in our life became my fault because how could Sean ever be wrong? I was the over emotional one, the "crazy" one. He couldn't possibly be the reason we got into debt because he never checks the bank account and expects to buy whatever he wants. How could Sean possibly be responsible for my inability to tell him no after years of verbal, physical, and sexual abuse? Threats of divorce after forgetting to kiss him at the airport. Being yelled at if Sean's numbered socks weren't paired together correctly. Watching him flip out over Aiden, not doing something or doing it incorrectly. Seeing the same fear in my son's eyes as my own of making a mistake for being human. Watching him hit Aiden on the head so frequently, Aiden now flinches away from being touched. I couldn't do it anymore when Sean refused Aiden or any of us therapy due to mandatory reporting laws.

I couldn't lie and tell people we were happy; kids were doing well. I couldn't be blind anymore. So after Sean crushed my hands around my phone and harassed me for hours on end, I had enough. I packed up my van, the one he insisted I sell and left. I tried to bring all my kids, but Sean stopped Aiden, convincing him of something in the mere moments I was getting my girls and my dogs in the car. I drove away sobbing, wondering if I would ever see my son again but knowing I would fight anyone and everyone for my kids.

I took six hundred dollars out of our joint account to hide out while he transferred the rest into a private account. He lied to the bank, saying we were legally seperated and getting a divorce and I would have access to the funds. I do not. I spent the extended weekend in a hotel, scared but feeling so damn liberated. I knew I had more to do to protect my kids, so Tuesday the 18th, I spent most of the day at the courthouse getting a protective order. I watched him be served with the order when he showed up at Aiden's school while we were leaving. I also contacted DHS and told them about the mental and physical abuse Aiden and the girls had experienced. Had my father-in-law removed from my house and got home by Wednesday. I have since spent every waking moment going through every scrap of evidence I have to prove the abuse and trying to find an attorney. I started a bookkeeping class to get some up-to-date experience to add to a resume and am trying to sell anything I can legally claim as mine to provide for my kids.

I have been fortunate to have a family willing to help during this trying time, but even still, I have been cut off financially and have no idea if any of our bills are paid. Six hundred dollars disappear fast when hiding in a hotel with two kids, two dogs, and a few essentials. I don't believe in asking for a handout, but I am not ashamed of needing help. It will take time for me to become self-sufficient, and in the meantime, I am asking those who can for help.

Thank you for listening to my confession and my plea.

Claire