I'm Leaving Abuse, I'm Leaving You: Letter to An Abusive Man

Please, honey, give me this day, free of pain. Please take back your hateful words, hold my tearful face in your hand, and apologize for hurting me so deeply. I beg of you to hold back your brutish glances under knitted brows and instead, look into my soul shining beneath my tears and see, just one time, that who I am will not hurt you.

I'm Leaving Abuse Because You Think I'm a Monster

You tell me that I am unfaithful and that I plan to leave you, then insist that if I do leave then I am doomed to live a life with some schmuck couch potato who doesn't know how to take care of a woman.

You tell me I do not deserve to enjoy the fruits of your labor. You say I squander your money and waste your time. You say you would rather be with your friends because they, at least, appreciate you for who you are. They, you say, do not want you to change.

And I believe you when you say you would leave me if it weren't for the children and the financial mess you believe I've created. It is true that my butt is big and my breasts slightly sag from feeding our babies. I do walk around with a sad face all of the time. It is true that I am not the woman you thought you married.

I'm Leaving Abuse Because I'll Never Be Your Ideal Woman

The woman you thought you married was your boyish ideal of a girl who delivered hugs and kisses and sex on demand. She cooked and cleaned for you, and sometimes she did those things with nothing on but a smile.

Your ideal woman carries both children on her hip as you cup a beer in your palm. She changes diapers, gets up alone with the babies each night, and wakes in the morning full of sunshine and life. She emulates your mother, adores your family, and wants to be just like you when she grows up.

Your ideal woman did not marry you. I did. And I think you hate me for taking her place.

I'm Leaving Abuse Because I Can't Make Any More Sacrifices

But you got a great deal anyway! I've made excuses for you when you couldn't get to work on time and encouraged you to keep going even when you doubted yourself. I've waited for your return from deployments and trips, sent you love-letters when I received none in return. I've kept your home safe and clean, raised our children to be both tender and tough, and budgeted our money so you could afford expensive grown-up toys and booze for yourself and your friends.

I put to the side my hopes and dreams in favor of helping you reach yours. I sacrificed my education and any work experience I could have gained if I hadn't stayed home to mother you and our babies. I have no 401(K), no pension plan, no nest egg of my own. Nothing we own has my name on it.

It's as if I do not exist outside of this home. Inside of this home, I feel the same - as if I do not exist. When I exert my opinion, you retaliate with anger and force. You verbally abuse me when we're alone together and make jokes at my expense when we're with your friends.

I'm Leaving Abuse Because I See the Truth

In my heart, I tell myself I love you. My words beg your forgiveness, plead for your love. But, in my mind, I am doubting that I can love such a callous, prideful and hurtful man.

Our children are getting older. Their personalities, different from yours, emerge. I see you squash their budding enthusiasm and thwart their plans when their ideas do not mirror your own. For the most part, you ignore them as if they are toys on a shelf to be taken down only when you need to make a good impression on your boss.

I'm starting to see that no matter how much I love you, I, like our children, am an object to satisfy your desire of being a family man, deserving of respect at work and within the community. I am a prop. My job is to be your ideal woman.

I am not ideal, nor could I ever be perfect. I am valuable, even if you don't think it's true.

Your life is pretend. You do not love anyone but yourself. You do not care about anything except how you appear to strangers. You uphold a strong image to the community, kneeling at the altar on Sundays.

Honey, look deeply into my eyes. Look past the tears. That spark you see? It is me.

Perhaps you should be afraid of me. I can cause your pretend world to crumble around you with only three words: "I'm leaving you." It is your fear of the world crumbling that compels you to confine me to this life of pain.

It is only my courage that can end this charade. It is time for me to go. Who I am hurts you, and I'm tired of sharing in your pain.

You can also find Kellie Jo Holly on her website at Verbal Abuse Journals, Google+, Facebook Page, Twitter and Amazon Authors.

*Both women and men could be abusers or victims. My pronoun choice is not meant to imply that one gender abuses and the other is victimized.