Me? Abused?

"You need to attend a domestic abuse support group!"

The words hang in the air. My denial refuses to let them in.

Denial, it seems, is the glue that holds the beast of abuse together.

I am 30-something. I have been married for 13 years. I am college-educated. I have 3 small children. My husband has a Master's Degree in Business. We both come from upper middle-class families. We go to church every Sunday. We own a large and spacious home. We attend barbecues with our neighbors. We gather with our families for Thanksgiving and Christmas and special occassions. We go to Disneyland and the beach for vacations. My husband coaches the kids in sports. He helped our oldest build his pinewood derby car for Cub Scouts. I am deeply involved in my children's schools. My husband tells me I am beautiful. That he is lucky he got me. He gives me wonderful gifts for holidays and birthdays. In many ways he spoils me. Cooks for me, lets me nap...takes the children out to play at the park. We go out to dinner and camping and everything that happy families do.

But I am not happy.

Underneath the thin veneer of domestic bliss lurks throbbing, palpable, out-of-control rage and pain. It has taken on a personality of it's own. It is the third partner in our marriage. I never know when it will rear it's ugly head. It is mean and ugly. It is insane. It's eyes are black. It's face is red. Once it appears, there is no force on heaven or earth that can coerce it to leave. It must exhaust itself...any words, any actions are like gasoline on fire...creating fierce, nonsensical eruptions.

It looks like my husband. But it is not...

It scares me.

It hurts me. Physically... Verbally... Spiritually... Mentally...

It hurts our children.

It has destroyed our family.

This blog is about my complicated journey away from It.