The mind of the abuser...

The time is coming near that I will remove my children and myself from this sad and horrible situation. The closer that day gets, the greater roller coaster of emotions I experience in the course of a day. My decision never changes, but it's still very hard to process all the feelings that bubble up from one's self conscious once you finally decide to leave. Any act of kindness that he does show, however minimal or small, swells me with guilt, however those small acts are always in the middle of a day that is also filled with nastiness, name-calling, and utter disrespect; I never lose sight of that fact. Yesterday he came home in the middle of the afternoon and demanded to know who had been sitting on the couch. I didn't answer, as we'd had this "Who sat on the couch" conversation before, which I think is utterly ridiculous since there are other people who live in this house besides Derek. At any rate, he was irate because one of the pillows wasn't put back properly and that's how he knew. He screamed at me and when I didn't engage him, he threw the pillow across the room into my face. Then he threw another one, that zoomed past my computer screen and knocked over some files. I got up and went to the kitchen. Not getting the results he was after, he followed me, screaming that if I wasn't going to give him an answer then he wasn't going to give me money any more, and I could just "rot." Then he yelled at me to pick up the mess (that he had made). Later that day, when dinner was over and the kids were in bed, he was dancing around the kitchen and trying to tickle me, like nothing had ever happened. A little later still, we were watching tv and I commented on the program, to which he gritted his teeth in anger, closed his eyes and in pure frustration said, "Do you ever shut up? Do you have to comment on everything? What you're saying isn't even relevant. My God are you an idiot." A few minutes later, he was talking about this big house we should move into and how great it would be. That's how he is all day. Well, on the good days, I mean. On the good days, he has these jovial moments interwoven into the abusive episodes. I mean my gosh, this man threw things at me, screaming at the top of his lungs, and for him it's all in the course of a normal day. He apparently doesn't give it another thought. Apparently that's just how his mind works. So in the course of any given day, I'm supposed to be -- what -- happy, then sad, then scared, then happy again, then guilty, then hate myself, then happy -- I guess. That's how it was for the longest time, until I couldn't be happy during the "happy" bits anymore, because I knew for certain that it was only a matter of time before the next bomb would explode. It always did. And it always would, I know that now. When you pick a person like this, it takes a little while to see the pattern, and not excuse the single act away for whatever reason. It takes a little time to realize that everything in the home revolves around his moods, and eggshells are the only foundation beneath your feet. The pillow out of place that triggered his recent rage was the catalyst he was looking for, never mind the fact that as soon as I saw his car coming through the gate, I scurried around like a scared rabbit, closing the drapes, checking that the counters were clean, putting my things away, turning everything off, and trying to find something "approved" to be doing, meaning housework. It's insanity. But once you see the patterns of how the abusive mind works, the light can break through. The time is drawing near now. I'm very nervous for our safety, but I'm trying to be brave. Until next time, dear friend...