The Progression.

I binge watched The Maid recently. Have you seen it? No spoiler alert here at all. Truly. I’m not going to share even one detail that you wouldn’t see in the trailer. I will tell you that I think the show is pure fucking magic and Margaret Qualley and Andie McDowell (amongst other actors) deserve acclaim and well, awards. 

There are several side or secondary stories, but the primary story is that of a young woman who is dealing with domestic violence. For the purpose of this blog, and in the spirit of keeping things inside the boundaries of the trailer, a good deal of the focus is on emotional abuse. 

I started watching The Maid because I didn’t have the stomach for the gratuitous violence laden Squid Game and I was lazy about doing a deep dive into the never ending cesspool that is streaming content. So, I selected the next show that was in my ‘New Releases’ queue. I had seen the trailer and someone had mentioned they were enjoying it, so the idea wasn’t a complete leap in the dark. 

I was immediately pulled into the series, but it wasn’t until the main character, played by Ms. Qualley, utters a particular phrase that I felt the earth shift under my feet. She is asked by a government case worker if she has contemplated filing a police report and responds as follows: “And say what? That he didn’t hit me.” 

I could caveat the fuck out of what I am going to say next. I could. I could tell you that my boyfriend wasn’t an alcoholic. In fact, he didn’t really drink at all. I could tell you that financially we never struggled. At the time we were together, we were both making a comfortable living. I could tell you that for the most part, we came from intact families (though I use that term somewhat loosely). I could tell you that we ate out at good restaurants and traveled all over the world and saw friends. I could tell you that I went to a regular gym and then also a specialized gym catering to spin classes. I could tell you that we both purchased new clothing and jewelry and all the snacks our hearts desired. 

I could. I did. And now, I take it back.

If someone asked me why the fuck I stayed in my relationship, I would point to the paragraph above as Exhibit A. I would ask, incredulously, how I could possibly be so ungrateful so as to seek out something different when I had so much. Who am I to make waves and create issues where none exist? 

Want to hear the real, hard truth? Even now, as I write this, I’m afraid that it’s not my story to tell. That’s right. I’ve already shared that I wrote a book about my relationship and it’s fiery demise. Hell, I’ve shared with you that’s why I started this blog. So, yeah, I’ve documented. But if I’m honest, I’ve recounted it all in a very hesitant and almost half-assed fashion. I was very careful not to be too strong or too offensive or too embarrassing. I didn’t want to make it seem like things were that bad. I was very careful to explain where I was at fault and where I had lessons to learn. I constantly reinforced the notion that everything I wrote about was from my singular point of view and thus, is inherently biased. 

I left out details like the withholding of physicality and all the fear because I didn’t feel like it was my story to tell. It wasn’t fair, you see. It was just my side of things. Shouldn’t everyone get their say? I am too sensitive and I can be bitchy. Best to say things in a way that’s careful. Quiet.

Then, I started watching The Maid and she explains how difficult it is to justify rage and sadness and fear in the absence of proof. Without evidence, it’s just my story, and who cares? Well, me. I care. Also, maybe some of you have experienced the same thing or know someone who has…so maybe it’s you too. But I didn’t get there just by watching this fabulous show. Not at all. The point at which I resolved myself to putting part of my story on paper in a very real way is when I was recounting to someone the evolution of “things” are I experienced them. 

I was talking about The Maid and then suddenly, I was talking about ME. Me. I was saying how first you’re excited to do family things together. Then, he goes to every other family thing, with good reason, obviously. You make excuses. They seem like good ones, but they aren’t. They’re lame and everyone sees through them. Except you. You are hopeful. Then he goes to less and then, none at all. At first he just tells you to have a good time. Then he says have a good time, but also mentions that it seems like there are “a lot” of “family things” to attend and asks when you plan on being home. Then he sends you off begrudgingly and chastises you for not giving a more exact return time. Then you spend the whole time with your family glancing your phone and writing texts like “almost done…sorry!” You use a lot of emojis. Shrug emoji. Smiley face emoji. Eek emoji. Prayer emoji. You patch emojis together into a makeshift bandage and hope it makes everything feel better. 

Nothing feels better. 

Then, you start skipping family events. You tell your family that you just saw each other, and you have plans to get together soon and it’s not a big deal, right? The thing is, he still isn’t happy. You are still doing something wrong. You are making him feel badly about YOU staying home from your family event, even though you’ve said nothing at all. He doesn’t want to feel guilty. After all, it’s your choice. Not his. He doesn’t force you to do anything. It’s unfair that you would even suggest that it’s anything other than your shitty decisions and weak resolve. 

You miss your family. You see them often enough, so missing them feels strange, but still, you miss them. You no longer look forward to holidays and birthdays and traditions. Everything that used to bring you joy becomes an event that has to be managed and modified and rejected. You find yourself explaining people and situations and you spend a lot of time explaining yourself. You are tired but also, resigned. You miss yourself. All the parts of you that did whatever the fuck you wanted. Did you, though? Did you do what the fuck you wanted? Maybe not. 

It doesn’t matter anyway. This is your person. You are making decisions with an eye to the greater good. Your greater good. Your future. 

Right?

Hmmm.

x

L.

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