I fear his anger
I fear his anger; even while writing this statement I fear his anger if he somehow reads this. The fear also extends to fearing his displeasure, his annoyances, his complaints, about me and whatever I might do — in essence, who I am. I try hard to stay within the lines, to not provoke that side of him which presents him as a jerk, a jerk using his words, or lack thereof, and his hurtful tone, to break me. It feels like abuse: emotional abuse, with words and attitudes as weapons. I don't like to admit this, because those who suffer real violence — physical and sexual violence — are far worse off than I am. And he is not always a jerk, and I love him; that angry part of him is not all of him. Yet, this is probably what victims of domestic violence all say to themselves, too. And to others, in order to defend their spouse in the eyes of those outside the relationship, to prevent judgement. But it really isn't all his fault, because I am fragile: my psyche believes anger and annoyance and displeasure are linked to the absence of love for me and the eventuality that I get abandoned and left behind, alone. When he gets upset and displays it, whether I caused it or not, my mind leapfrogs to beliefs such as, "It is all my fault," "why does he have to hurt me this way," "what did I do wrong?" It feels like I failed in navigating the broken eggshells scattered around him. And then I have to steel myself and tolerate the jerk behaving like a jerk around me, hoping that he will apologise — he never does. In that respect, he is like my father. Things are never his fault, the way he acted and the words he used were not wrong in any way. It wasn't always like this, but I fear it will be so for a long time more down the road.