Once upon a time, I didn't realize my ex was abusive. There were many reasons and excuses for deluding myself into thinking the problem was a relationship issue, and that we were equally at fault for the trouble in the marriage. By the time I came to terms with the fact that my ex was abusing me, that he was an abuser, I also realized that I had abused him, too. I had called him names, allowed my temper to overcome my sense, even slapped his face once and thrown keys at his head hoping my aim would, for once, be perfect.

Many people believe an abuser's anger causes the abuse in a relationship. However, an abusive person does not become angry the way "normal" people do - their rules are different. And unlike "normal" people, an abuser's anger does not cause them problems; abusive anger is one of their tools. Evidence shows that abusive men who complete anger management programs do not stop abusing. They merely choose another tool to reach the same end.

A long time ago, I hooked up with another stellar soldier, Will, who quickly morphed into my abuser. When we met, the future I imagined for myself was divided. It was a toss-up between doing my time in the Army then going to college and embracing the military life I'd come to love and making it my career. I was undecided, and my imagination, fluid as it was, didn't include my future reality. However, Will certainly fit the profile for my imagined boyfriend! He was an excellent soldier, strong, assertive - a great protector. He was my dream brought into reality. I felt blessed. I listened to him. I adored him. He was my hero.

My little boys' faces lit up each Christmas morning when they saw proof of Santa's handiwork. Those memories are some of my favorites, but I can't relive the entire Christmas morning memory without including my ex-husband's scathing words "Where the hell did we get this kind of money?!"...and right there, the warm memory turns cold. During Christmas of 1992, I was fortunate to visit the Moulin Rouge - the hang out of one of my favorite artists, Henri Toulouse-Lautrec. Although I was going for the art, most of the tour group went for the show consisting of countless scantily clad women - a show I was uncomfortable with attending but thought it worth it to soak in the call-girl atmosphere Henri so enjoyed in his day. As I buttoned my gorgeous purple pant-suit, my husband said, "Your butt is getting wide."

As a victim of abuse, my abuser held me to an impossible standard: "Be the perfect woman in my eyes." Whenever I did not think or behave the way his perfect woman did, then I suffered the consequences (abusive anger, name-calling, intimidation, etc.). In his eyes, my goal in life should be to become the woman he wanted me to be...flawless in his eyes. His perfect idealization left no room to be human, let alone myself! Please...Knock Me Off That Pedestal He often told me that he held me up on a pedestal, above all other women, and when I fell off that pedestal, he became angry. This explanation was meant to excuse his poor behavior; it was not an apology.

You're on a first date - attractive person, nice restaurant, good conversation, and after dessert, you excuse yourself to use the restroom. When you return to the table, your date is visibly upset. He stands up, waving wildly for the ticket, grabs your hand and storms both of you out the door. You're wondering what horrible thing happened during your absence, so you willingly follow. Once in the parking lot, your date puts his hand around your throat, pushes you against the car, and whispers into your ear, "I was talking to you. No one gets up and leaves while I'm talking!" What do you do? Call for help as soon as you're free? Run for the hills? Fight for your life? Probably. No one stays with a person who acts like that! Unless . . . 

I was sitting around on Thanksgiving Day thinking about all of the holiday traditions I left behind when I left my husband. Amazingly, there aren't any that I miss. I really did try to get myself choked up about my lack of traditional family time, but the tears wouldn't come. Instead, I ended up with a top ten list of the holiday traditions I happily leave in my past.

I'm having a bit of trouble leaving the rules of my marriage behind me. You see, when I was married, I was to be forever less than him. My job was to focus my energies on making him seem and look better - more capable, responsible, trustworthy... It was my job to prop him up to the outside world. He was a poster-board life-size cut-out, smiling and looking grand, and I was the plain cardboard stand sticking in his rear, supporting him.

Abuse affects our foundational thoughts - the ideas of who we are, what we're doing, why we believe what we believe. Manipulative abusers use every weapon against us - mental, emotional, physical - and leave us bleeding our souls onto the floors of our own homes. The damage can be so horrendous that when the abuser is no where to be seen or heard, the injury continues to grow, not to heal. No where in this world is safe when your abuser's words run laps in your head, circling and creating negative thoughts. Abuse kills from a distance too.

Communicating with an abusive person exercises patience at best and destroys your soul at worst. Communication's definition is the imparting or exchanging of information or news. Communicating with an abusive person is not possible because the abuser blocks or argues mercilessly with what you say unless you parrot their experience, ideas, or words. Attempting communication with an abusive person is pointless, especially when you're in an intimate relationship with one.