Victim or Volunteer

Summary

The author recounts the moment they recognized their role in perpetuating a cycle of abuse in their relationships.

Abstract

In this personal narrative, the author shares a pivotal moment in their life when they realized they were no longer a victim but a volunteer in their abusive relationship. The author describes a heated argument with their partner, during which they were verbally abused and threatened. This incident led the author to understand that by not leaving the relationship after the first instance of abuse, they had inadvertently agreed to tolerate such behavior. The author acknowledges their low self-esteem and poor judgment as contributing factors to their situation. They emphasize that while they were not to blame for the abuse, they had a role in allowing it to continue. The author hopes that their story will inspire others in similar situations to recognize their agency and take action to end the cycle of abuse.

Opinions

The author believes that their low self-esteem and poor judgment contributed to their acceptance of abusive behavior.
The author acknowledges that they were not to blame for the abuse they suffered but recognizes their role in allowing it to continue.
The author emphasizes the importance of recognizing one's agency in ending abusive relationships.
The author suggests that those who continue to tolerate abusive behavior are, in a sense, volunteering for it.
The author hopes that their story will inspire others in similar situations to take action and end the cycle of abuse.
The author distinguishes between victims who are trapped in dangerous relationships and those who, like them, have the power to leave but choose not to.
The author implies that it is never too late to recognize and end abusive patterns in relationships.

The day I fully understood the difference

Courtesy of Piqsels

I’d asked him to do the dishes and he asked if he’d dirtied any of them.

Then I lost it. I was taking his clothes down with mine to put into the laundry as he settled onto the couch having come over to my place again for the weekend. I began yelling at him about how we never spent time in his pigpen of an apartment and when he came over to my place he expected me to cook, clean, and “entertain”.

He launched himself off the couch and charged me.

No. He didn’t hit me. This one had never hit me with his hands; just his words. He began circling, spitting on me in his open-mouthed rage. Hurling top decibel-level insults and leaning in towards me, towering over me, so I shrank and covered my ears.

At that moment I realized that if I went for my usual placating, calming, apologies that the next time he did this (and there would certainly be a next time) I would have volunteered for the abuse.

It’s a hard thing to admit but I was 39 years old at the time.

And a little over three years earlier I had ended the relationship with this man for exactly this kind of behavior. Friends had warned me, supported me, helped me get him out of my apartment. After two months of longing and listening to way too many schmaltzy, stupid love songs I went over to his place and reopened a door that should have remained shut.

Apparently I hadn’t learned the lesson the first time.

But that day I learned it.

To be clear: I was never to blame for the abuse that man and the ones before him heaped on me. None of us are. However, my part in keeping that cycle going was that I accepted it. After that first live-in boyfriend cracked me across the face for chewing my nails a week after I’d moved in and I didn’t immediately pack my things and leave, I was volunteering for every black eye and cut lip and bruised upper arm that followed. None of which excuses him in any way for the abuse, btw.

And then, even though I finally walked away from that man, I kept signing up for more of the same with three subsequent men. Low self-esteem? Yeah. Seriously bad judgment? For sure. Thinking I didn’t deserve better. Ohhhh, yeah.

It took what it took but I’m hoping anyone reading this who’s been tolerating crap behavior from a partner will see their part in it and recognize that they do, we do, have agency. It’s tragic how many people are trapped in dangerous relationships where their agency has been stripped from them and, let’s be clear, those people are victims. I wasn’t but it took me nearly 20 damned years of being punched, yelled at, ridiculed, and diminished to recognize I had the power to end it.

That January day in 2000 when I suddenly woke up and saw how I’d been accepting the unacceptable all along something snapped. I was a victim the first time around. Now I was bending over, offering my soft parts and saying “Kick me”.

I still went on to make some real bone-headed moves in later relationships but that was the last time any man raised his voice in anger to me more than once.

Thanks for reading!