When Your Abuser is Full of Hot (Stinky) Air

Hot Air Escaping from Hyde

My mother sent a fart book to my son for Christmas.  It is really funny in a gross sort of way.  The book details the qualities of different farts–their sounds, smells and milieu.  Most entertainingly of all, there is a panel of buttons on one side of the book, which provides audio examples of each fart type.

No doubt, we have enjoyed indulging in a bit of middle school humor the last few days.

As I had indicated in my last couple of posts, Hyde has been trying to manipulate me and control a situation in which he has no business involving himself.  His words, heavy with authority and entitlement, had been feeling like boulders balanced on my shoulders until I realized today that he is full of hot air.

You see, I realized today that Hyde and farts have a lot in common.

First, Hyde’s behavior is every bit as rotten and stinky as a “Silent but Deadly” type of flatulence.  Predictably, Hyde hides behind his innocuous facade of words.  It takes a good three readings for me to catch all the silent nastiness he communicates.  Covert abusers like him are masters of writing between the lines.

Second, Hyde’s words clang loudly like the “Seismic Blast.”  Both disturb the peace and dirty the very the air they occupy.  Their rumbles shake me up a bit, but I’m realizing there is no lasting effect as long as I recognize the blast for what it is–an eruption of hot air.  Abusers like Hyde love to throw their targets off balance, causing them to wonder what the heck just happened.

Lastly, Hyde communicates like the “Aftershock.”  As written in the Farts book, “Always a surprise visitor, this irruptive species travels exclusively in flocks, usually among larger species.  Host usually appears calm and confident, followed by gasps of disbelief shortly thereafter.”  In other words, both the “Aftershock” and a covert abuser attack undercover; the offender feigning innocence when called out for their offensive behavior.

What are some other signs of hot air you have recognized in dealing with an abusive person?

P.S.  Here is the book:

Farts A Spotter’s Guide
Also useful for identifying covert abuse tactics

Under Attack

My Dear Readers,

A season of battle is fast approaching.  Today, I heard the rumblings preceding the war close at hand.  My enemy attempts to drive my spirit into cowering, but he does not realize I have the Eternal Victor holding me in the palm of His mighty hand. 

I am entering day 3 of consecutive panic attacks.  Pray for God’s blessing of endurance and steadfastness upon me. 

Lord, give my soul rest in You so that I will have the stamina to outlast and outmaneuver my enemy.  Please reach into Hyde and soften his heart, shield him from evil influence and surround him with influences which are pleasing to You.  Amen

Thank you for caring.

-Ida Runfar

Hyde, your suppression tactics will not work and I pray for bold witnesses who will recognize and stop the evil you try to commit against me.

Simple Things

There has been a lot on my plate the last few weeks, or as I said to my therapist: it’s like juggling many trays full of different entrees traveling at different speeds with constant additions and subtractions and having to keep track of it all because someone might ask me a question about what is on a tray.  It has been exhausting.

During the last week I had our tree half strung with lights and just could not muster the energy to finish it or care that it wasn’t finished.  That’s a sad place to be…I hated it.  Fortunately, I was able to hang in and not beat myself up for it.  Yesterday, I spent a few hours blasting classic Christmas songs and finishing the decorating.  It was an effort, but well worth it.

Warm and cozy.  That’s how I would describe the atmosphere I created with my simple Christmas decorations.

As I sit here soaking up the beauty, I am reminded how our home with Hyde never felt this relaxed.  This year, I didn’t have to ask for money to buy ornaments I wanted; there was zero guilt in the process of preparing the space according to my taste.  There were no adverse consequences for wanting a bit of cheer. I didn’t need his approval for anything.  I felt free to control my purchases, free to make independent decisions, and free from his mantle of unhappiness.

Freedom.  So simple and so valuable.  Freedom to dream of a happy future.

In case I don’t write before then, merry Christmas and a happy, freedom-filled new year to you all.

My Effyou Spoon

My Effyou Hyde Spoon

Near the end of our stay in Europe I decided that I wanted the special demitasse spoons everyone used with their coffee.  I expressed my desire to purchase these and Hyde told me “we can get them in the U.S.”  I argued that I knew where to get them (unlike in the U.S.), but he continued to put me off, making me feel stupid for pushing to buy them. 

The thing was, I asked for so little from Hyde.  I never spent money without his approval first.  “Our” money never felt like mine.  I respected him by asking him first, but he continually denied my small requests.  The frequent refusals with the occasional approval trained me to ask less frequently.  It was financial abuse and it robbed me of equality in my marriage.

Other denied requests that still get under my skin: a cd being sold by a talented guitarist in Rome, two more matching coffee cups and saucers (we had two), an electric tea kettle, enamel cookware, a cd of medieval music by musicians in Rothenberg, Germany, a new broom, a new clothes drying rack, a new wine bottle opener.  His salary was over $150,000, but I didn’t know that at the time.

Last week, I spotted these demitasse spoons in a discount shop…the first ones I’d seen since moving.  I make less than $700 per month, but I forked over the $13 just to relish my freedom to do so without feeling obligated to ask first.  They are my Effyou Hyde spoons, and with every stir in my cup, I’ll be diminishing his control over my life.

Memory Unburied

Trigger Warning: Eating Disorder

Last night, I had the sudden, out-of-the-blue realization that I have not purged since Hyde left me.

It kind of stunned me when my memory suddenly opened up and I remembered the hours I spent gagging myself, trying to dispell the horrible feeling inside of me.  I really didn’t even think about how that was a signal for the distress I felt–it was how I subconsciously coped and internalized my hurt in order to let our marriage survive.

I cry now for that past me.  How sad that my mind was clever to find a coping mechanism that kept my relationship alive at my own peril.

Hyde is an agent of darkness.  I really had some serious mental health issues happening as a result of his covert abuse.  Praise God!  I am freed from the daily prison of life with Hyde.