No one told me. No one at all. No one who had known him for fifty plus years, no one who had known him bothered to speak to me. I guess you could call him a person of note, a name well known respected in his world wide industry. I will never believe that after fifty plus years of association and friendship, no one else knew he is an abuser, or was never on the receiving end of his abuse. And, no one, not one single person who I met through him has checked on me.
Not. One. Single. Person.
All along the way I was aware of Christ. Always feeling the nudge, sometimes a shove. I’d found my self in the wrong place and with the wrong person once again. One would think that at my age I would be awake enough by now to see and understand what was happening, and therein lies the shame I seem to revisit too regularly. It seems to come less often, rolling in and out in larger and smaller waves, and I am sensing there is healing on the horizon.
It’s a strange feeling to feel so shattered, so empty and ashamed. Frightening to realize how much time has been lost to people who are users and abusers in too many flavors to name. But, this last time, this last time really shook me to the core. In the past I was able to walk away with some sense of dignity and strength to carry on with the matters of life. This time took me down hard.
Not because of love lost. But, because once again I had wasted time, emotions and energy that could have, should have, been applied to my gifts and talents. And, because after getting away I was able to grasp what a mean, angry and dangerous person he was, and how deep the quicksand I was in. My person as a whole seemed to be disappearing into that black hole of his life, his anger, his antagonisms, his manipulations, his back stabbing and disparagement of everyone in his life. Yes, all of you who say he is your friend, all you who are his relatives, you, too.
Then, he hit me. The first time, he got me with a sneaky elbow jab to the jaw, calling it an “oops,” no apology, no remorse, and thinking back, his facial expression said he found the situation amusing. I’ve thought long and hard as to whether I am imagining that expression after the fact, and I don’t believe so. He found it amusing. And maybe there was some surprise in there that I was standing up after the hit. It cracked hard and ached for days. The second time, it was the knife edge of his hand swinging at me like a karate chop. I didn’t see it coming, I must have sensed it, and so ducked a bit, the blow that was aimed at my throat catching me across the bridge of my nose. Though it wasn’t broken, he had hit me hard enough that my chiropractor had to reset my nose.
I told him he needed to get help and that the basis of this relationship was changing until he did get help. I was his music duo partner, no longer his girlfriend. I told my self, and maybe told you, too, that I stayed in to finish a string of gigs on the calendar. But, I was really like some kind of zombie, not thinking for myself. All through this were those taps on the shoulder, flickers of truth, soft calls to leave, nudges and glimpses of reality. Christ was telling me to get out, to live a different life, think a different way, He has a purpose for me.
The beautiful places we visited were tainted by unreasonable and outlandish, angry reactions to someone or something that happened. Or, the distance from home was used to manipulate me, set me up for interrogation I could not escape. Just when I thought it’s over, it’s not over, not by a longshot. And later, I didn’t even want to look at all the photos I took because they are heavy and tainted when they are supposed to be light and rich with good memories. .
My music was slipping away. I felt as though I was on stage with a tantrum pitching toddler with no filter. Real performance opportunity slipped away, never to return. Friends were slipping away. My writing was all but gone. There was little time to write, to think past an almost constant tapping on the shoulder of some one needing my attention. All this time I ignored the truth right in front of my face; I was uncomfortable in the relationship, I was non existent as my self, every single thing I said was countered, every single thing I did was questioned, every single thing I had spoken of from my past was dissected countless times and would come up suddenly, like a train in a tunnel.
We were camping a hundred miles from home, playing some shows. Things had been smooth all day, now it’s full on dark outside, the rain is loud and hitting the RV’s sides and roof. He asked me a question about music and I began to answer. He interrupted, interjecting another question? I raised my finger and was going to say, “I’ll get there” because the answer to the second question required the first question to be answered. But, before I could say, “I’ll get there,” he suddenly lunged forward across the table at me, raging, screaming, red faced, leaning into and away from me. It’s raining hard, but the windows are open and I know other campers can hear him; it’s the weekend and the park is full, people are camped close by. I’ve turned sideways in my seat, a frail attempt to distance my self in the close quarters of the RV. I’m looking at the floor, mentally calculating that the door is two steps away to my left, my phone is right beside me on the table and my pistol is in the drawer beside the bed which would add one more step, it would take just two seconds to grab it, and one more step to the door, but to do that I would have to turn my back on him, and he’s only an arm’s length from me, and maybe I don’t want to risk turning my back on him to take my gun with me, just get out the door and run into the woods, lock my self in the outhouse and call someone in the morning. I could not tell you what he was yelling, only that he was, for hours. I said nothing and couldn’t move. He finally went to bed and I sat there and wept all night, completely ashamed, embarrassed that here I am, 65 years old, in this horrible situation, miles from home, and unable to make myself call the police, call a friend to come get me, or even call out to other campers for help. Who, by the way, in spite of them having had to hear him yelling, never rapped on the door, or even hollered at him to shut up. Think about that. I do.
The next morning he is begging forgiveness, “Nothing like this has ever happened before. I don’t know what happened.” I could not respond other than to say I wanted to take a walk around the lake. At about halfway around the lake I had to sit down, being so emotionally exhausted and having no sleep. As I sat there, he sat beside me, and I told him I could no longer do this. I could no longer live without acknowledging Christ outwardly in my life. That somehow I had drifted away from my goal of living for the gifts and talents God gave me, and I that is what I needed desperately to return to. I told him that I had listened to him lamenting about his life for several years now, and that if he wanted his life to change, to leave behind regrets and fears and anger, that he should hand them all to Christ and get busy living and learning to live a Godly life.
After getting home, and feeling a responsibility to the venues, I tried to finish the shows already on the calendar by meeting him instead of riding together, but gave up immediately after that first show back. I am sure there are venue owners and managers who will never have me back again because of him. It’s been almost two years, and the shame and embarrassment, as well as needing to sort it out for myself, kept me from telling you.
This is not the first abusive relationship I’ve been in. I’m not going into all of that though. I’m here to say that if you know or suspect someone is an abuser, confront them, and confront them head on because whether they abuse publicly or privately, they are abusers, no matter the type of abuse.
I’m here to say that if you know someone is an abuser, tell the person who may not know. You could save a life just by giving a warning. “But, they won’t listen,” you say. Maybe not, but you informed them. And if they don’t listen, keep checking in. Look them in the eyes and ask.
If you suspect or know someone is being abused, whether by outward signs, or overhearing like what happened in the RV, ask, step in, bang on the door, yell “shut up,” call the police or park rangers, do something. Please. Do something.