I Hit Back

I'm getting far too many search hits for "gut punching pictures," or its simpler cousin, "gut punching." This is all in relation to an entry I wrote about getting my ass kicked by Billy Blanks while doing a Tae-bo video, something I really need to be doing more often. I certainly don't have any photos of getting socked in the gut, and I'm afraid I never will. It's not my thing. I guess it is the thing for some other people. You learn something new every day, and in this case, it really is every single day.

Since this whole thing got me thinking far more than I should about such a subject, I came to realize I have never been punched in the stomach. My brother and I had some pretty nasty fights when he was still smaller than I, but I don't recall him getting me in the gut at all. We did some pretty awful kidney punches on one another, usually it was me putting the hurt on him, but no belly busters that I can remember. That may have happened had I not been smart enough to quit fighting once he got bigger and stronger than I was. But I was smart, and we just yelled at each other a lot and slammed our bedroom doors. Mom loved that.

Really, I haven't been hit much at all. I tend to avoid physical confrontation, and I was always ready to lay rubber if a boyfriend ever laid a finger on me. That conviction didn't apply to emotional abuse, because honestly, I didn't know what it was. And that made me vulnerable. For me, it would have been easy to walk away if I was hit, but it wasn't easy when I was being put down and manipulated.

Emotional abuse starts off small, so you don't even notice. You think it's a bad mood or that you did something wrong to justify the action. You immediately question yourself and make excuses for the bad behavior, because it's only small. You're supposed to excuse the small things, right? Then the small things become more numerous, and some of them get a little bigger, but it's gradual, so you just step the excuse-making up a notch. This keeps escalating until you are left wondering how you let yourself get into such a horrible situation. You feel bad all the time. You still make excuses and blame yourself. The abuser does such a good job of making nice in front of others, especially your parents, that they wonder what's wrong with you. You begin wondering what's wrong with you. You question your sanity. You want out, but everyone is telling you you're not trying hard enough. You try harder. You go to therapy. It gets worse. You make him move out and decide to deal with the ridicule, but it doesn't last long. He threatens to kill himself. He threatens to kill you. He threatens to kill your child. He goes into the psychiatric hospital. He promises to take his medicine. You take him back. He quits taking the medicine. He tells you how horrible it makes him feel. You feel guilty for trying to make him take it. He goes back to the same old thing. You make him move out again, but this time you're stronger. You're stronger, and you have a good reason to give everyone else now. You don't let him come back, but you do let him into your life far too much for far too long. You hurt someone else in the process. You slowly quit taking calls and quit playing the game. You go to more therapy. You finally get divorced. You manage to not repeat the cycle.

It's not easy. What's easy is letting your lack of confidence guide you right into the very same type of relationship over and over and over again. And nobody ever seems to understand why you can't make your relationships work. People don't believe in emotional abuse because the term gets tossed around like so many buzzwords, and because you don't have bruises or black eyes to show them. The bruises are inside. They are deep and invisible, and everyone's lack of confidence in you just aggravates them. It's a lonely, sad place to be.

I was lucky, because I had a friend who believed in me. I also mustered up a shred of confidence thanks to some intense counseling. But I don't ever feel like I'm normal anymore. I feel scarred, but like the pain of the abuse, you can't see it. The scars are in the same place the wounds were, and though they fade over time, they don't ever go away. Some things you defeat. Some things you overcome. Some things you learn to live with. I've had to do all three.