So I got in my car and picked him up. He was furious. He kicked in the windshield and passenger side window, kicked in the console of my car breaking the dashboard, ashtray and heater vents. He also stripped my parking break. He was always irritated and full of anxiety and always thought I was cheating or interested in everyone else but him. He would become angry if he thought I was making eye contact with someone. He was very insecure, constantly looking at himself in mirrors to make sure he looked ok. His need for attention was almost unbearable. He fed this need by flirting with females in bars. Sure he was a good-looking man and his first impressions were impressive. It impressed me. His soft-spoken words and crooked smile drew people to him. It was amazing to me to see the real him. The scared, pathetic, insecure little five-year-old boy who would pester me or pout until he got his way. I work with children with autism and was taught to ignore attention seeking behaviour – When I would ignore his bad behaviour it just seemed to infuriate him more. This behaviour management wasn’t working for me. He always told me that he wished I didn’t have a past. This way he didn’t have to deal with any of the things I did back then. He was incredibly jealous. His insecurities made him do terrible things. He searched through my drawers, finding pictures and letters from my ex-boyfriend. Always wondering why I kept all the baggage. Baggage? I want my memories. I was forced to tear up every remaining memory of my past relationship. He would check my cell phone to see who had called, wondering if I spoke with any men. He made me delete old friends from my phone believing that I was having affairs with them. He loved to get high on crack yet hid it from me for the first few months. After having far too much to drink one night, he forced me to drive to my bank to withdraw $40.00 so he could buy crack. I gave him the money hoping he would just get out of my car and I could go home. He threw my keys into a gated lot where I had to crawl under a fence to retrieve them. As I drove away a flying kick almost broke my passenger side window again. It was usually quiet through the week. It was the weekends where the cycle of violence always increased. This time he broke my camera, tv converter, ripped bed sheets as well as punched me in the neck, chest and ribs, leaving bruises for days. I think my rib has just recently healed. He threatened on more than one occasion that if I tried to call the police or have anyone help bad things would happen to my family and me. He threatened to stab my cat, pour Lysol in my fish tank, burn me in my apartment and made threats to my ex-boyfriend and close friend. I guess threatening me made him feel powerful. He stole two credit cards and personal cheques, trying to cash $400.00. It all ended the last weekend in May 2003. After being forcibly confined to my apartment for 2 days, beaten and sexually assaulted, I was finally released to the police. I broke down and cried as I held my swollen head. I couldn’t wash my hair for days because of the pain he had caused in the previous 48 hours. He hadn’t slept in three days and had taken a total of 26 paxils. He stripped me of my clothes and made me sleep in the small space in between the wall and the bed. My head pounding from where he had punched me and pulled my hair. He kept my hair wrapped around his wrist for hours in fear that I would try and leave or call for help. I did try and leave a few times but I was caught and brought back into the apartment. I thought it was in my best interest to just do what he said hoping to end the violence. He urinated on me and made me lay in the bed, now cold and soaking wet. He didn’t care how I felt. I guess he never really did. The final moments of that weekend will be forever embedded in my mind. His hand over my mouth and nose, trying to keep me from screaming. I couldn’t scream, every breath I took was a breath for air. I pulled his fingers away from my mouth, cutting my nose with my fingernail, wanting to scream but gasped for air instead. I felt like I was drowning. The phone rang. It was my landlords upstairs, wanting to know if I was ok, that they had heard screaming. He got scared, took my car keys and left. I’ve read a lot about sexual assult. I was sure it didn’t happan to me. Sex that isn’t forcible but the person feels afraid and gives in to prevent more harm is Sexual Assult and it is a crime. I know that now. He ran for 2 weeks before the police found him. Making numerous phone calls every day to me. Taunting me that he had my car, scaring me, making me run from one home to another. 17 charges in all were laid from uttering death threats to sexual assult. I’ve read articles about severely abusive men. It states they likely had been raised in a violent home, in which his parents hit him as well as each other. I remember him telling me stories from his childhood, all of them made me shudder. It went on to tell that his own aggressive, disobedient behaviour during his youth contributed to the development of an Antisocial Personality Disorder as an adult. He probably had a long history of impulsive behaviour including motor vehicle infractions (he lost his licence for DUI), substance abuse (he abused crack cocaine and alcohol), and impulsive violence. He always worried about other men being interested in me, and, importantly, felt justified in using force to keep me under his control. His internal chaos with bipolar emotions often gave him the desperate need to control external events, situations and people because his internal world was so out of control. The external control gave him the sense of stability he lacked internally. If he didn’t get his way he would resort to manipulation, episodes of raging or physical threats to get it. This created constant anxiety and fear in my life. He lacked self-soothing skills, unable to calm himself; he looked to me for this. He wanted me to put everything aside and tend to his needs yet became resentful and enraged when our relationship failed to meet his every need. He always felt sad and empty. He told me a few times he didn’t want to get out of bed because the world is so scary. The more I read about bipolar disorder the more I understood what was going on in his mind. I know that abusive relationship expectations usually include demands for constant attention, frequent sex, and a requirement that you spend all your free time with the person, or give up everything else in your life. Because these expectations are based in the chemical/emotional imbalance, no matter how much I gave, it was never enough. He used to tell me when he didn’t talk to be for a few days, I would disappear. He needed constant reassurance that I was still there and yes I loved him. If I was unavailable or busy he would become enraged triggering deep-seated abandonment. I read that people who are bipolar unconsciously seek out partners who have difficulty enforcing their boundaries or expressing their anger. I am a very passive person. Always have been. But waiting for the next drastic mood change or sudden emotional outburst kept me on edge, full of anxiety, unsettled and off balance. I started to hate the life I once loved so much. I believe he would disassociate during episodes of raging. Simple problems or issues were frequently blown out of proportion to crisis status. He was addicted to drama and loved the excitement. It’s been 2 weeks since his arrest and I am still receiving harassing phone calls. One minute he is telling me how scared he is and how much he loves me and the next call is the threat that when he gets out of jail and my life is happy, he will be there, to ruin it for me. I think it will be a very long time before I can move on and trust again. I am angry that this man has taken my uncomplicated life and turned it into a total and utter mess. Everything I am, he said I wasn’t. All the good things I did for him weren’t enough. But I am strong and will survive and I know who I am. It’s just sad that it had to come to this when all I really wanted out of this relationship was to get him the help he desperately needs.

vicki -
Comments - My daughter has been married for a year to a verbal abuser. He makes her feel really awful and makes snide comments about her publicly to his family and even to my family. I had a phone conversation/argument with him the other day and he was trying to do the same thing to me. He was using every single vulnerability he thought could bother me and even said I am not a Christian or a good mother!