Chapter 9 – Lies and more Lies
Over the next few months, I still find things: he would close the curtains, lock the doors and tell me “You asked for this.” I would forgive him the next day but it happened again and again and again. Days became weeks, weeks turned into months, and he became better at this.
He started to choke me for longer, CLUTCHING my head in his hands while telling me he feels like smashing my face into the wall because that is how I made him feel. He has gotten good at leaving no visible marks to the eye. I usually had bruises on my neck, arms, legs, and sometimes my upper body.
He would cry so naturally, apologize profusely and promise that it will never happen again. He would be so remorseful that I even felt bad. He would convince me that it was my fault. He would justify his actions, because as he put it: You are acting crazy.
It was April 2017 and he worked in Klerksdorp over a weekend. Let’s call him WB (as in wife-beater) left early the Friday morning and was supposed to be back Monday afternoon; this is not unusual; the company usually has stocktaking over a weekend.
WB called the Sunday evening to check if we are okay, he mentioned that they are done and he was going to the movies at 8 PM. Klerksdorp is a two-hour drive and I wondered why he would stay another night just for a movie? So I asked ALONE? Simple question right?
He yelled “YES” but proceeded to tell me how crazy I am, that I’m paranoid and making him feel like shit for not trusting him. Any, in fact, all questions were met with this tirade, again and again.
By now I have figured out how to keep his phone and iPad synched. I could track his whereabouts quite easily; you know the advantage of social media and location location location is quite astounding at times.
According to this technology he was in Pretoria, and I sent him a screenshot. I asked him to please explain and he sent his location, with this condescending text: “I hope this makes you happy because it doesn’t me. Have a good night”
I informed him that a pin location can be changed and I sent mine saying I was at Clearwater mall from the comfort of my bed.
I asked for the receipt of his movie ticket and I never got a reply to this, but instead, I got a picture of a slip at some garage in Klerksdorp to prove that he just bought headache tablets because this is what I cause – headaches.
WB added: “I have nothing further to prove or say to you. Everything I say or do is being investigated and questioned, but I brought this on myself”
Again I apologize for being the crazy one and not trusting him when he is telling me the truth.
Did I believe him? Yes, and No. I knew he was lying but was still desperately trying not to come across as crazy, because what if he is telling the truth? Then he would prove that I am crazy, that there is something wrong with me.
That week in our therapy session he could not wait to boast about how he has proven with the receipt of the headache tablets, how paranoid and crazy I am. How I cannot accept anything he says and that I always find ways to not believe him, and all he wants is for me to trust him again.
The therapist asked to see us individually in the next few weeks which gave me the chance to tell her what was happening, BUT, I never mentioned the physical abuse.
In fact, I didn’t tell anyone for two years about the beatings and choking, and with the therapy not working, I decided to quit that and just be.
With no one to speak to, and with WB capably manipulating me and beating me and staying out every other weekend (stocktake again), I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t think, I was just a mess.
His affair consumed me in every way possible.
Was I crazy? I was definitely consumed.
Self-medication was my only rescue but this temporary solution was getting weaker; and then I was dealt another distressing blow.