You may judge, but I came here because I don't know where else to turn
The story might surprise you, but then again in this day of age it might not. I am a 23 year old female batterer – yes that means I hit my husband. I carried straight A’s through high school, excelled at three sports, and was selected as the most representative senior female by class and faculty vote. I started dating Tyler second semester of my senior year. He cheated on my in the first month of our relationship and 7th months into the relationship. He told me about this approximately 1 year after the second incident happened. I slapped him across the face. How many times have you seen that in movies? He told me he deserved it, begged me to beat him to a bloody pulp. I hugged him after that, told him I still loved him, and that I’d try with Christ’s strength to forgive him. He started going to church with me, was baptized and became a member.
In college I was an all conference athlete, 3.98 GPA student, leader of two campus organizations, and involved in campus ministries. I probably beat him 15 times in our four years of college together. I’d cry, I’d pray, I’d forgive him again, I’d talk to friends about it, my parents. My best friend laughed when I told her about the first two times I hit him, said it sounds like he deserved it. We were engaged our senior year. Everyone thought we were the perfect couple, campus sweethearts. He was still lying to me when we were engaged, still battling a pornography addiction. I turned my ‘righteous anger’ on that too, tried to beat his pornography addiction out of him, as if I were his mother and knew better than him.
My English professor was a self acclaimed feminist, told me my teaching degree was beneath my ability level, told me getting married would rob me of the chance to go to graduate school, said buying a house would be the death of my academic ambitions. She might have been right on all the levels. I might have been persuaded by her call to feminine power. I came to agree through doctrine and experience that men were fallen, and in part that it was my calling to save my husband from the sins that haunt men. In doing so I gave myself a sin that haunts very few women.
I’ve never met another female batterer. I don’t know anyone else who can hit their husband and cause harm. I know girls that have slapped guys, but that gets laughed off. I’ve punched my husband, elbowed him in the back, and just recently kneed him in the face. There was a time where I didn’t physically hurt him when I hit him, but I’ve progressed beyond that. I now see myself as dangerous, wonder about my mental stability, want to get on medication.
I pray to God, I go to church; I even tried expelling the demons of my anger to Christ’s throne. Is it possible that my soul is saved but my brain is just messed up? I think the anger synapses got wired wrong when I started buying into anger, wanting retribution, trying to beat him out of his bad habits. And now that I want to buy out of anger… well I can’t. My memory is hazy about when I’m angry. I feel like I float above my body as my fist comes down across his chest. I cry about it, and then I go stoic. I read my Bible today and felt it very uplifting. But that was over an hour ago, and right now I don’t feel a thing, no emotion, just the need to write.
I seem to be a very calm person, level headed. And I’ve never really been angry at anyone else, never hit anyone else. I’ve been angry at God once. After my brother passed away. I prayed, then cried, then prayed again. After that I threw everything I could in my room, angry at God for taking away the most beautiful thing in my life. I have a wonderful reputation in town, at school, at church. But my soul is darkened by my secret sin. I abuse my husband. I am a white, Caucasian, Christian, employed, generally happy, female batterer. In that I feel alone.
I took a walk before I wrote this, and reminded myself I never walk alone, that God is always with me, that my brother watches over me, that I have many friends, and a very loving husband who wants to walk me back to recovery. It’s tragic that I can’t make it work for the hand that broke my heart to heal it. I called a domestic abuse recovery line, told a stranger my story. She told me cheating is domestic abuse, and that I shouldn’t be afraid to leave a relationship where I’ve been cheated on. Told me at least a separation might help me find space to work on my anger issues. What would God say to that? Whose hand am I meant to hold? Is Tyler meant to heal the wound he inflicted?
I pray, I write goals, I talk to Tyler about it, I talk to my best friend about it, I read marriage books, I read books about being a Christian woman, I ask people to pray for me, I leave the situation and come back, I eat a good diet, I take no drugs except birth control, and I hit. Where is the formula for success? Am I still broken from my brother’s passing? Do I need to be on medication to set things straight? Do I need to confess to my pastor? God bless those who hope, because I will always need someone to believe in me.
In college I was an all conference athlete, 3.98 GPA student, leader of two campus organizations, and involved in campus ministries. I probably beat him 15 times in our four years of college together. I’d cry, I’d pray, I’d forgive him again, I’d talk to friends about it, my parents. My best friend laughed when I told her about the first two times I hit him, said it sounds like he deserved it. We were engaged our senior year. Everyone thought we were the perfect couple, campus sweethearts. He was still lying to me when we were engaged, still battling a pornography addiction. I turned my ‘righteous anger’ on that too, tried to beat his pornography addiction out of him, as if I were his mother and knew better than him.
My English professor was a self acclaimed feminist, told me my teaching degree was beneath my ability level, told me getting married would rob me of the chance to go to graduate school, said buying a house would be the death of my academic ambitions. She might have been right on all the levels. I might have been persuaded by her call to feminine power. I came to agree through doctrine and experience that men were fallen, and in part that it was my calling to save my husband from the sins that haunt men. In doing so I gave myself a sin that haunts very few women.
I’ve never met another female batterer. I don’t know anyone else who can hit their husband and cause harm. I know girls that have slapped guys, but that gets laughed off. I’ve punched my husband, elbowed him in the back, and just recently kneed him in the face. There was a time where I didn’t physically hurt him when I hit him, but I’ve progressed beyond that. I now see myself as dangerous, wonder about my mental stability, want to get on medication.
I pray to God, I go to church; I even tried expelling the demons of my anger to Christ’s throne. Is it possible that my soul is saved but my brain is just messed up? I think the anger synapses got wired wrong when I started buying into anger, wanting retribution, trying to beat him out of his bad habits. And now that I want to buy out of anger… well I can’t. My memory is hazy about when I’m angry. I feel like I float above my body as my fist comes down across his chest. I cry about it, and then I go stoic. I read my Bible today and felt it very uplifting. But that was over an hour ago, and right now I don’t feel a thing, no emotion, just the need to write.
I seem to be a very calm person, level headed. And I’ve never really been angry at anyone else, never hit anyone else. I’ve been angry at God once. After my brother passed away. I prayed, then cried, then prayed again. After that I threw everything I could in my room, angry at God for taking away the most beautiful thing in my life. I have a wonderful reputation in town, at school, at church. But my soul is darkened by my secret sin. I abuse my husband. I am a white, Caucasian, Christian, employed, generally happy, female batterer. In that I feel alone.
I took a walk before I wrote this, and reminded myself I never walk alone, that God is always with me, that my brother watches over me, that I have many friends, and a very loving husband who wants to walk me back to recovery. It’s tragic that I can’t make it work for the hand that broke my heart to heal it. I called a domestic abuse recovery line, told a stranger my story. She told me cheating is domestic abuse, and that I shouldn’t be afraid to leave a relationship where I’ve been cheated on. Told me at least a separation might help me find space to work on my anger issues. What would God say to that? Whose hand am I meant to hold? Is Tyler meant to heal the wound he inflicted?
I pray, I write goals, I talk to Tyler about it, I talk to my best friend about it, I read marriage books, I read books about being a Christian woman, I ask people to pray for me, I leave the situation and come back, I eat a good diet, I take no drugs except birth control, and I hit. Where is the formula for success? Am I still broken from my brother’s passing? Do I need to be on medication to set things straight? Do I need to confess to my pastor? God bless those who hope, because I will always need someone to believe in me.
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