I thought I was abusive for years.
I remember just drowning when the children were babies. Very little sleep, very little time, very little me. If I complained to my husband at the time, he would sulk at me. He never helped unless I asked him to. He lived a very independent lifestyle and I was isolated at home with no energy. I was also poorly at the time with undiagnosed underactive thyroid only I wasn't aware of it at the time but it explains my struggles. He would just compare me to other women who were coping better than me and tell me to get out more, but I was too exhausted.
I remember just shouting at him a lot. Through complete despair.
I wasn't allowed to be ill because it would be an inconvenience for him. If the children were ill he would sigh and roll his eyes at me as if I was making it up. He would label me a hypochondriac until we discovered that our child had an underlying medical condition which was making her poorly too.
He never hit me and rarely shouted at me but it was hell on earth. I remember just being desperate for support. I'd moved to his hometown so my family were hundreds of miles away and could not support me. His parents told me I needed to let my hair down when I complained to them. He was always giving me the silent treatment even when I was trying my best. I would reach out for connection from him but feel funny about it afterwards, because really, deep down, he was hurting me.
We had no relationship either. I was invisible. He would just watch his box sets if he wasn't out doing his hobby or with friends, he didn't seem to value time spent with me at all. If I made an effort, he would seemingly pull away even more. It felt like a game.
My biological Dad was verbally abusive when I was growing up, but looking back, the pain doesn't compare to what my husband has put me through.
I got so desperate when I was unknowingly ill, that I would hurl objects at him as he would gaslight me whenever I shared my point of view on our life at home together. Then he would tell me I was mental. I would cry and he would walk away.
He would do loud DIY jobs in the evenings when I was trying to sleep and the children were sleeping, he would make more mess whenever he did help out- if he cut the lawn, he would strim the hedges and leave all of the ends all over the place so that the garden looked worse than before. He would wash clothes but not put them away. He didn't seem to care. And would say I was never satisfied even when he helped. He never complemented me and when he did- he did it in a robotic way, because I'd asked him to pay me.more compliments.
One day, I hit him because he refused to stop knocking and hammering when I was trying to sleep after a week of rough nights with the baby.
We went to relationship counselling and she said that he was seemingly incapable of empathy. She told him, infront of me that I was exhausted by the relationship and that I needed some space from him. He gave me the space and then he left.
I never intentionally wanted to hurt him, I never intentionally set out to antagonise him or manipulate him. I was just trying to survive. I realise now that he was using me to express his own suppressed anger and jealousy through his antagonism. I know this, because my outbursts were always followed by a weird relief from him. He tells me he left me because I was abusive, but I was just a mum trying to survive with no support and no love around me.
I just wanted to throw this out there.
Since speaking out about this, more women have told me they've gone through a similar thing. The antagonism is the abuse, not our survival instincts.