Women With Swords

Every woman needs a sword. This is where I sharpen mine.

Tag: Abuse

  • The Invisible String

    About eight days ago, I received the dreaded spousal support email. Without divulging (and therefore waiving) any confidential information, I’ll just say the number was about 200% more than I anticipated. Great.

    I had been terribly anxious about that email, and that number. When it finally came, I crashed. I spent the whole day crying and letting it all out. I don’t feel despair or hopelessness anymore. What I feel now is anger. I feel used. I feel like he keeps a thick, invisible string tied around my neck that he pulls whenever he wants to. He is not letting me go. He thinks I owe him, that he is entitled to (my) money. I understand that spousal support can be requested legally, and that is fine, but I am essentially paying for my abuser’s lifestyle while he completes his PhD. Again, I left him everything I had: stock, car, checking account… you name it. And I paid for him for the entire duration of our relationship. I am eight years younger than him, and frankly, I almost did not survive him. It took every ounce of strength I had to leave. I am depleted and slowly regaining my vitals, but he is still here, trying to wear me down. He cannot comprehend why I would abandon him when he is, allegedly, such a god.

    I was so proud of myself for letting it all out that day, on my own. I was proud that I could welcome the emotion instead of fighting it back, and simply accept that yes, this hurts, and that is okay. I felt something inside me get a little unstuck… like I am learning to feel safe, at peace, and in touch with my emotions.

    Then my parents came to visit me in Los Angeles from France. My mom presented at an italian american society I recently joined, and it was a very emotional evening. I introduced her (which led to a lot of tears), and then she presented for about 90 minutes on an Italian opera. We visited landmarks in East Los Angeles, and I threw them a barbecue with my friends. But most importantly, we had a relaxing, chill time: hanging out, cooking, watching Shrek, and taking it slow.

    The last time my parents visited was back in 2023. My ex drove them all over Los Angeles from the minute they landed and never let them relax. He insisted on eating breakfast, lunch, and dinner out, and he always had them pay. Always. He treated them like cash cows. I kept telling him that my parents don’t need this, that they much prefer hanging out with us, cooking at home, going for walks, and doing one or two activities a day. Please don’t drag them to an Italian restaurant two hours after they land, before they’ve even showered. My mom is Italian, and they don’t care much for Italian food in Los Angeles. They weren’t even allowed inside the apartment we shared and had to get an airbnb.

    This time around, I was able to host them properly. They had their own king-size bed with a super comfortable mattress, a credenza, a closet, hooks to hang their clothes and towels, and their own balcony. The guest bedroom is looking very good, and despite the single bathroom, my apartment is big enough to host them comfortably. It was so special. I managed to pay for a lot (and overall, we took it much slower and only went to two restaurants, lol). And they met the boyfriend, whom they already love. Said boyfriend had a very complicated relationship with his ex-wife’s family and was immensely stressed leading up to meeting my parents. Safe to say, we both conquered it. It felt normal, easy… right. We all had a lovely, relaxing time. They left yesterday, and the apartment feels empty without them.

    I am so angry about the past and the hurt, but at the same time, I’m so thankful for the lessons it squeezed out of me.

    Yesterday, I responded to my ex’s spousal support number with something that most likely sent him into shock. I can’t manage his emotions anymore, but god fucking hell, I am anxious. My stomach is twisted and my heart is racing. I want this to end. I want him to walk away and leave me alone. I miss the dog, so much. But I surely do not miss him. Just hoping that the divorce train keeps on running, so that an end at some point in time, is in sight.

  • Tube Memories

    Writing to you all from London. The number of times I used to visit here was astounding. I spent every other weekend here during my uni years in England. Weirdly enough, I miss the tube. I miss busy sidewalks and shops everywhere. I miss the cobble stone, the wooden pubs, the cathedrals and brick walls everywhere. The breeze. The overcast weather. LA can feel like a burning hell hole sometimes.

    It is an odd feeling feeling to be back here. As if I am visiting an old friend, with whom I have not caught up in a while. Even the stench of sweat in the tube brings me back. So much has changed in the last ten years. I was very much in love with my ex husband back then. Every song reminded me of him. We were long distance for about a year and a half, but I fell deeply in love with him in England. Now, ten years later, I realize that it was complete infatuation. I was 18, and he 25. When we moved in together in Norway 2 years after, the bad experiences began. It became a coercive relationship. I was told horrible things often, felt trapped, unloved (in fact hated), used, disrespected, manipulated – coerced. I lost my appreciation of life quickly. I lost confidence. I got diminished, pushed down, stepped on. My family saw my down fall. My friends too. I was not letting anyone help me. Anyone who would try to help I shut down, i.e. would block them. He pushed a lof of that on me too.

    I started having flashbacks. I am close to being free from him (minus the spousal support part, evidently). Flashbacks of ways he talked to me, what he said, how he touched me and shook me. Flashbacks of horrible times, where I would cry on the bathroom floor, and wonder if life was worth living at all. The coercion peaked. The pain too. It all led to a major nervous breakdown leading to a major diagnosis – at a time where he had unilaterally decided to open the relationship (one way) just for him. He could see girls, I could see girls. That was it. No talk. “Either you allow this, or I am leaving you.” And that was 30 minutes after I understood that he had cheated on me two years back. Mind you, this was in the St Martin airport, after a 10 day vacation. He was frustrated at my weight back then. Anyways, I disgress.

    Somehow, London reminds me of him. Of my love for him. Oh I was so in love. I saw a friend and her parents yesterday, folks that I have known for 21 years. I was telling them about the recent divorce updates. Her father looked at me and said something that will stick with me forever – “you learnt, and that is invaluable.” No shaming, no pity, no anger, no frustration, no shock, no sadness. It was refreshing. I felt seen. He also shared another incredible piece of advice that I will write about another time.

    As I am about to exit the tube (next station), I think of this old and new chapter of my life. If anyone out there has coercion stories, please comment – together, we can sharpen our swords and feel less alone.