metonymy4u

It is a great shock to wake up one morning and realize that one has been in an abusive relationship. That while clinging, to some personal treasure or lifelong dream, one has been willing to tolerate, even participate, in one’s own abuse. “For the children” one might think, or “for this or that benefit.” One might even believe it when he says “I really do care about you” or truly hope that “things will get better.” Just hold on a little longer. It will be worth it in the end. You can do it. And yes, perhaps one can do it. For a time. But on the other side of that inconsistent, vain hope generating schedule of reward and punishment, on the other side of the “it’s not as bad as you think” poisons that defenders of his felonies so sweetly make, what makes one sit up and suddenly take note is that one insult which literally or metaphorically slaps one in the face: that final instant of abuse which transforms (and reveals) the truth of all the other moments. Quite suddenly you see them no longer as passing tokens of excusability, rather as they are: crimes of cruelty, of sadism, truly–of evil. And then one knows, “Through no fault of my own, I have married myself to someone who takes pleasure in other people’s pain.” And at long last: you are done.