It Will Never be OK

she took her power back ~

without permission
 

(Terri St. Cloud. "Her Power". Her White Tree)

I sometimes find myself inviting my STBX over to my house for a meal with the kids and me...not because I particularly want his company, but because the kids want to see him and still feel safe and warm when we all sit down for a meal together. I often find myself regretting my generosity. Sunday afternoon about three weeks ago was one of those times.

We had been to Mass together as a family, and things had been going relatively well, and I had a lot of food...so I invited him over for lunch, but made him aware that after lunch I would have chores to do and our older daughter would have homework to complete.

We had lunch...and then he wouldn't leave. I went upstairs to use my bathroom, and the kids went out to the backyard to play. He went upstairs and knocked on my bathroom door asking if I was alright. He was in my bedroom. WHAT??

When I came out, I found him sitting at the top of my stairs, blocking my way down. At this point, I realized that we were alone in the house and insisted that we go downstairs, as he continued to insist that I sit on the steps with him (there was only room for one, so the only way I could have done this would have been to straddle him...no way!).

When he finally got up and we made our way down the stairs, he continued to hug me and to want to kiss me, although I clearly wanted no part in that. After much prodding and insisting in my part, he eventually turned to leave...but not before adding, "Why do you want to hurt me?"

I simply responded that I was not trying to hurt him, but then realized that this was not enough...that it sounded too trite for the true and clear emotions that I felt when he touched me.

So I looked him frankly in the eyes and said, "I am not trying to hurt you. When someone does not want you to hug them, kiss them or touch them, it has nothing to do with wanting to hurt you, but everything to do with that person not wanting to get hurt. When you hug me, kiss me or touch me, it does not feel good. It always brings back bad memories, so when I don't want you to hug me, kiss me or touch me it is because I don't want to have those memories. It has nothing to do with wanting to hurt you."

"So it's just because of that one time?", he argued as if it had been such a small thing.

"No, that and everything else. That was just the last thing."

At this point, he began to argue that there were other good memories from our marriage. I agreed but explained that his hugging, kissing and touching never called upon these memories. His hugging, kissing and touching only brought me to a painful place. He must have felt as if he had broken through or something, because he continued to argue his point seemingly impervious to the fact that it was completely irrelevant to what I tried to make clear to him.

I felt my emotions simmering and knew I was near my boiling point. The more he continued to try to convince me to ignore my truth, the angrier I became...until I felt the need to look him square in the eyes and remind him.

"You raped me in my own bed!", I spelled out...then he got angry.

He began to deny things again. I never wavered. My gaze never unlocked from his.

"That wasn't rape!"

"Yes, it was. When someone says no to sex, and you proceed, it is rape."

"It wasn't sex."

"I asked you to stop and you never did."

"You're a liar! It's all a lie! Lie! Lie! Lie!"

...and on it went, with my eyes always locked on his, my words over his and his words over mine, like the argument scene from a drama film. I was convinced of the truth and realized that all he was trying to do was to erase my truth...obliterate it...smother my confidence with his aggressive words...as he had done in the past. It was not going to work this time.

I saw where this impasse was going and simply asked him to leave. He continued to call me a liar. I opened the door and pointed out, in case my words were inaudible in his raging head. He continued. He wasn't moving...and just before I once again got hooked on his rotten bait and melodically cursed him out, I remembered what my therapist had suggested in the past.

Get the fuck out of my house never left my lips. Instead, I clearly and evenly said, "If you don't leave, I am going to call the police."

It worked..."Yes, I'm leaving.", he finally said...and left (and returned for his phone...LOL).

I could not believe how satisfying and refreshing saying those words felt to me. You see, I wasn't screaming or crying or shaking when I said them. I felt completely in control, as if I had just asked my child to clean up her toys or she would lose privileges...and I knew I would follow through if I needed to.

The thing is that it will never be OK. No matter how much he tries to erase that awful night from history, it will never be OK that he took his pleasure with my body against my will. It will never be OK that he held my legs down and open, while I wept and remembered terrible things from my past. It will never be OK that he continued, while I tried to push him off me. It will never be OK that I said no, and he didn't stop.