He Ripped Open a Hole in Me

The story of recognizing my self-worth.

Photo by Serrah Galos on Unsplash

I’ve been writing this story for months, but only in my journal. When I read No One Knew I was in an Abusive Marriage by

Ros Barber

, I was inspired to share my experience. Thank you Ros for sharing yours. It’s time to amplify that tiny, quiet voice, the one that knew things weren’t okay.

This is part of a much larger story. There is more to come.

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“I knew it was only a matter of time,” he said, “I’ll look for a place. As soon as the room is done, I’m gone.” 

I was in the middle of breast cancer treatment and he was threatening to leave me.

He used to make me feel so good about myself. He would tell me I was the best woman he’d ever been with, that I was “perfection.” But toward the end of our relationship, when he’d been drinking too much (which had become a daily occurrence), he would disparage me and all the things I cared about — my children, my friends, my profession, my family, how I lived my life. And when he disparaged, he didn’t hold back. Anything from “clown” to “retard” rolled off his tongue. When he called me a “stupid fucking bitch” and then denied it, I knew something had to change. But if I dared speak up about how his negativity affected me, he became defensive, twisting my words so that he was now the victim.

The first time he threatened to leave I was sick about it for days. But this wouldn’t be the last time he’d say those words. The fact that I was in the middle of cancer treatment didn’t stop him from adding weight to my already-burdened shoulders. I couldn’t believe he would threaten to abandon me at a time like this. 

The room in the basement he’d agreed to construct for my oldest child became the finish line for our relationship, and the starting gate for his impending departure. The decision to build this room when she moved back home became a sticking point between us. He and my three children had never gotten close, even after four years of living with us. How I parented was often a sore spot between us and a source of many disagreements. We got to the point where we couldn’t have discussions without the ground opening up beneath us — and they would end with him threatening to leave. 

The next day, he would act like nothing happened. When pressed about it, his insistence that I knew he said things he “didn’t always mean” was no consolation. Was I not supposed to be upset by such a declaration? His excuse begged the question: How would I know which statements he meant and which ones he didn’t? This constant conflict was now interfering with my ability to create the inner peace I desperately needed to heal from the cancer. 

I toughed it out, telling myself it was just a small bump in the relationship, that everybody has flaws, couples have disagreements, that I was too sensitive, that he didn’t mean it, that things would get better after we talked — in the morning. But I knew, somewhere deep down, that I was telling myself little lies. 

I do think I believed those lies, for a while. One of my superpowers, which incidentally is also my kryptonite, is to see the best in people, to believe that they mean well and they just need a little time (or love or compassion or understanding or someone to believe in them — or any multitude of excuses). 

And sometimes a small part of me would even think that maybe, just maybe, there was a tiny bit of truth to what he was saying and I just didn’t like the delivery. What if I had something to learn, and I should stop being so sensitive? These are the thoughts that led to the fissure in my self-trust. 

There is much more to say about this relationship and how it ended, but that is a story for another essay. Its lingering effects were what I was dealing with now.

Long after its traumatic ending, I could still hear that critical voice whispering in my ear, hovering over my shoulder. It was paralyzing. My insecurity got so bad that I had to ask for a less stressful position at work. I could no longer do the same job I'd been doing for 13 years as a Montessori teacher. I became exhausted from the daily stress of managing the inner conflict and would arrive home with little awareness of how I got there. I wondered why I felt so ineffective. The traumatic breakup and cancer treatments I’d gone through could have explained my inability to handle stress. But I felt that I’d recovered and was moving on, so I couldn’t understand why all these intense feelings were bubbling up now. I wondered if I would ever return to my former sense of self-worth. And then one day I had an epiphany and everything came into perspective.

It happened while watching a Netflix show I’d been obsessed with called Au Secours Béatrice (Helping Beatrice). The scene held up a mirror to my own story and I finally understood where my overwhelming self-doubt came from. 

Béatrice explains to her therapist how her new boyfriend went from doting to cold when she brought up an issue about their relationship. Her boyfriend told her he would leave if she “insisted on living in the past”. In that moment she felt a hole rip open in her — like all the goodness was instantly taken away. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. She described exactly how I felt when my partner did the same thing to me. A switch flipped and all these feelings I’d had for months suddenly made sense — I was no longer alone in my anguish. The person I was commiserating with was fictional, but her story was as real as anyone’s.

Béatrice told her boyfriend he didn’t get to threaten to leave when she had an issue to discuss. I was envious of her ability to address this problem so quickly. I tolerated a heck of a lot more emotional abuse before I stood up for myself. I’m a master at ignoring the signs until they become too big to shove under the rug. And once I finally see them, it takes everything I have to muster the courage to speak up. 

When I finally understood that the nagging voice in my head came from the constant barrage of insults and criticism I’d absorbed, a sudden wave of sadness and self-compassion washed over me. I grieved for that version of me who’d lived it for so long. At the same time, understanding where my insecurities came from allowed me to answer the question I’d asked too many times: “What is wrong with me?” 

The answer is nothing. I’m an imperfect human stumbling through life like everyone else, full of mistakes and imperfections. But nothing is wrong with me.

The fog was lifting and I could see more clearly than I had in a long time. I had a new sense of hope. My self-compassion took up the space the critical voice had occupied. It provided some armour against that nasty creature when it would inevitably emerge. It can’t be evicted completely — it’s part of me. But I can listen more closely to that other voice, the quiet one, so the ogre can’t overwhelm me again. I need to listen to my inner wisdom when it tries to tell me something, often expressing itself through my body. All those times I felt a brick drop into my stomach after he uttered a stinging epithet or threatened to leave, my body knew. I knew. The message was clear: This isn’t right. This is poisoning you.

Repairing the hole that remains is not an easy process. But this experience has taught me that my goodness isn’t bestowed upon me — it has always been and always will be. I need to recognize my self-worth, to nurture and protect it — and never again let anyone tear it apart.

“What you are looking for is already in you… You already are everything you are seeking.”

~ Thich Naht Hanh 

I would like to thank

Don Boivin

for putting this beautiful quote in his piece I Became a Full-Time College Student At 48. The quote made its way into my consciousness at just the right time. Don, I hope you don’t mind that I’m borrowing it.

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