I Can Not Change Another Person

If I say...

"Please listen"

"Jerry Springer"

"Who is the Daddy?"

"She said, He said"

"Don't yell at me!"

"Law Enforcement"

Can you guess their commonality?

No? Well, that's okay because I'm going to tell you. All of the above share the same attribute, that of conflict and drama. Actually, where you find conflict, you will also find drama.

Drama is fantastic if you are watching movies like Air Force One, Twilight, Guns of Navarone, Braveheart, The Notebook, Gone With The Wind, and the list could go on and on, but you get the point. I love this kind of drama and conflict. Being taken away for a couple hours into a different world of intrigue is exciting because it is temporary fantasy and entertaining. However, it is only entertaining because I know it is temporary fantasy.

On the flip side, conflict in life is often not only unwelcome, it is involved in painful dramatic situations. We can not control everything that goes on around us, but we can control ourselves meaning the manner we speak to others, information we learn, places we visit, thoughts we dwell on, and people we choose to associate.

Women as a gender make a fatal relationship mistake...they think they can cha-a-a-ange their man. I want to tell you boldly and with a loud voice that YOU CAN NOT CHANGE ANOTHER PERSON. I'm sure everyone that needed to hear that message stopped reading at the last period and has already clicked the "x" in the top right hand corner to get away from my words, but I will continue anyway.

The person you are spending time with is the person you are spending time with and that's it. If you are being yelled at, physically abused, neglected, rejected, or cheated on over and over again, it will continue because YOU CAN NOT CHANGE ANOTHER PERSON. If you are hooked on the conflict and drama brought about by your mistreatment at the hands or words of another, more than likely, you need therapy or at the least, that person should be booted out of your life.

Do you have the tendency for drama? Are you hooked on the drama of another person's life to the point that your compassionate emotions are exploited for their gain? For instance, have you ever found a website requesting money with a long story of sadness attached? I'm not talking about The United Way or The Red Cross. In it's extreme form, the diagnosis is "Münchausen by Internet" which simply means that the internet user fakes an illness in order to obtain internet notoriety and money. This is the ultimate in internet drama and nothing short of the real life crisis can compare to the conflict or emotions generated by the continued escalation of tragedy.

Why are people so drawn to drama and conflict like moths to a flame? Why do we open our wallets and hearts so quickly during these episodes of unhappiness? I do not have the answers, but what I do know is that people who are phony online or in real life are eventually exposed. If we give to them honestly, we will have exhibited the best of humanity albeit in ignorance of the truth. Unfortunately, we should be wary. Do the homework to ensure that you are not being conned before you give funds in the mail or over the internet. If you enjoy being engulfed with conflict and drama on a blog, well, more power to you! However, if the tragedy or the people involved begin to encroach on your every thought and action, you might need to step back and regroup yourself.

I do not like real life, unhappy drama or conflict. In a way, I am a wimp. I like smooth, easy going relationships of equal give and take. When I call, I want to know that the person on the other end of the phone values a conversation with me instead of only talking to me out of obligation or not talking to me at all because they just let the phone go to voice mail all the time. If I have to beg someone to spend time with me, then obviously, the person doesn't value my company. So if we are begging for attention and our conversations are treated as chores, then why remain in the relationship? Remember, we have already covered that YOU CAN NOT CHANGE ANOTHER PERSON, so surely that wasn't the answer. If you just thought, "People change" then my only question to you is, "Are you young, healthy and rich enough for a long ride?"

Don't get me wrong because I am just like many others who see the good and overlook the unpleasant in other people. I really have to be pushed to the very, very edge before I simply cut someone out of my life and it doesn't happen often. However, I do not like conflict and drama because both usually bring pain. Let me be totally clear...I really dislike emotional pain, so I constantly tell myself with a loud voice in my head, I CAN NOT CHANGE ANOTHER PERSON.

Guess what? Unfortunately, I'm right.



"To love someone is nothing,
to be loved by someone is something,
but to be loved by
the one you love is everything"

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Having An Affair (Final)

This posting is a continuation of Having An Affair (5) at http://www.theredheadriter.com/2009/11/having-an-affair-5.html which is the story of my friend, Sophia.


"After we made love that night, my heart was wrenched with pain. While Mark was at work, I wallowed in self-pity."

"Mark was angry that I had gotten pregnant," Sophia said. "He ignored me and wanted nothing to do with the children or my pregnancy. He stayed gone more often and went on business trips that lasted longer than they had ever been. I decided, at the prompting of my doctor, to see a therapist."

This was confusing to me. How could Sophia be in the mess she was in now if she had sought the counsel of a therapist earlier?

"I went to see the therapist regularly throughout my pregnancy," she continued. "I know she helped me because I was finally able to see that Mark was abusing me and I didn't deserve it. It took me a while to gain the confidence to stand up for myself."

"My depression angered Mark and there were many times after Jeremy was born that he either beat me or raped me. There wasn't any tenderness in our marriage - just violent rage and anger."

"Finally I learned enough new skills from my therapy that I began to act differently with him. There was a turning point one day. I decided he would never hit me again. I let him know that I would call the police and press charges against him if he continued to hit me. He was shocked and asked me why I would do that to him."

"I can't believe him," I exclaimed. "The nerve of implying that you would be doing something wrong if you had him arrested!"

"Yeah," Sophia said, "He's nervy because he didn't believe me and when he slapped me, I called the police. They arrived within minutes and with the glaring red hand print on my face, there was no question that he had hit me. They even took pictures of my face. The officers left me with information and a phone number to call for help. I didn't call. I regret that because I suffered when he got home."

Now that ends the history of Sophia and brings me to the day I met her.

"Mark's explosive anger was scaring the children, so rather than lock them in their rooms, I gathered them together and checked into the hotel late that night," Sophia said.

I was working late that night. I took one look at Sophia and her beautiful children when they walked through the sliding doors and I was never the same person again. She stood looking at me over the counter...defeated, with bruises on her face, neck and arms, a busted lip, and a black eye which was obvious proof that she had been beaten. Her children were wide-eyed and scared. My heart sank. I wanted to help her, but had no idea what I could do. I became a mixture of hotel General Manager, mother and friend.

Mark was arrested again and Sophia finally made "the call" willingly. Before he was released from jail, Mark had a restraining order against him and Sophia had filed for separation/divorce. Within weeks she had moved to another state into her own apartment, found day care and a job. It seemed that the nightmare was over.

At this point of the story, it feels like a happier ending and I thought it would be too. You'll recall that Jeremy was a handsome one year old when I met Sophia and she told me her story which I have recounted over the past week. Jeremy is now six years old and Sophia has been on her own for the past five years. Things have not always been easy, as I'm sure you can imagine. Mark doesn't visit the children as much as he could, but he hasn't harassed Sophia. On the contrary, he has ignored her and left her alone...until a few months ago.

He has "seen the error of his ways" which is really bad enough. However, he "wants to make a fresh start together" and Sophia is being pulled into his web of lies. I have encouraged her to go back to therapy because it was the one thing that helped put Mark and his abusive nature into perspective for her. Sophia doesn't want to go back to therapy because she doesn't think she needs it any more.

Sophia is lonely. I've been lonely. It is a miserable feeling when you are lonely and hopeless. The future looks like a black hole of misery. An endless misery. When the sun came up each day, I would wonder how it was possible that life continued on around me when I was so unhappy that I could hardly function. Why didn't the world simply stop spinning? When someone has reached this point, it is easy to fall prey to the "something or someone is better than nothing or no one" mentality. That type of thinking never has a good ending.

Believe me when I say, SOMETHING or SOMEONE is NOT better than NOTHING or NO ONE! If you are presently in an abusive relationship, please believe what I just said...SOMETHING or SOMEONE is NOT better than NOTHING or NO ONE!

I felt sick when Sophia told me that she was "casually" dating Mark. I asked her what exactly she hoped to gain from this relationship with him. Was she dating to look for a suitable mate because obviously she had already gone down that road with Mark and he wasn't suitable.

"You are being too hard and bitter," Sophia said.

"If I am honest, I guess I am hard and bitter when it comes down to some things," I responded. "For instance, when a man beats and rapes his wife over several years, I don't feel like he deserves a second opportunity to beat and rape his wife again. The physical abuse may have healed, however, the emotional and mental abuse is continuing and you are allowing it."

"Sophia? Would you want your daughter, Meredith, to go back to a husband that acted like Mark?" I asked.

She couldn't answer me or in reality, she didn't want to answer me, obviously. Sophia knows that I think this choice is a poor decision. I do not want her to make an even worse choice.

She hasn't called me since telling me the awful news. She may not call me again and I do not feel inclined to call her with unwanted advice. I have to choose between being silent or restating the obvious in hopes that she will actually listen. Mark terrifies me!

I have often contemplated why our paths crossed. Once she had divorced Mark and was on her own, Sophia blossomed. She made friends. She built relationships. She increased in confidence and self-esteem by being promoted at work. She found peace again. She didn't "need" me. We didn't talk often, but that was okay. I felt that I had in essence "served a purpose" in her life and that was enough for me.

But now, when she is teetering on possible doom and gloom by her own choice, she reconnects with me. I am thrust into an ocean of emotions. I am a different person than I was five years ago. I am more...let's call it forthright. I say what I feel and make no apology for it. When you ask my opinion, I prelude it with "Do you really want to know the truth." The truth is powerful albeit sometimes painful. I rather hear and know the truth than be told a lie. Some people say that, as a matter of fact, most people say they prefer the truth, but they don't really mean it.

I practice the same principle with forgiveness. I really mean it when I say I prefer truth and I forgive you. I may forgive you, but that doesn't mean I want you in my life. Some people say that they forgive you and yet they constantly remind you of your mistake. First of all, that isn't forgiveness. Secondly, that isn't me. So, I am forthright.

I am still compassionate and sympathetic.

I am still forgiving.

I still cry easily.

I still wear my heart on my sleeve.

I am still understanding.

I know how it feels to be Cinderella.

I know how sweet it is to wear the glass slipper.

I have been Cinderella.

I also know that Prince Charming does not cheat, beat or rape Cinderella.

That is a nightmare. It is a nightmare that I do not want Sophia to experience again.

I do not know how to help open her eyes to the course she is following to sadness.

I believe Mark would abuse her again.

I am thankful for my mother who had the internal fortitude to leave an abusive relationship. She walked away with practically nothing in order to preserve her life, worship God and raise her daughters in a peaceful, loving home. I appreciate her sacrifices and I know there were many. Mom has gone from rags to riches and by leaving the abuse, she was thrust back to rags with two children. That isn't easy and it was frightening with two little girls relying on her...and constantly watching her example.

We didn't have much, but we had her and that is truly all we wanted.

Mom practiced what she preached.

She gave me and my sister everything she was and everything she had.

Thank you mom. I know it was hard.

Thank you for years of teaching, directing and encouraging me.

I am proud of you and if I could stand on the top of the world and shout it, I would do so.

You are a wonderful woman.

You are loved by many, but mostly by me--I had to say that even though I know everyone in the family will dispute it! I am only speaking the truth! (smiling)

I hope I will be inspired to say the right things to Sophia if she calls me again. Most of all, I hope she will make the right choice for her future and the futures of her children.

What would you do and say to her if you were me? Would you wait for her to call or would you call her? Would you write her? Send her emails? Or would you just sit and wait for her to make the next move in the relationship? Would your advice be different if Sophia was your daughter or grand daughter? If you could, what advice would you give now to any woman or man that is presently living in an abusive relationship?

Please feel free to write as much as necessary in order to answer the questions above. I want to thank you ahead of time for helping me, for all the wonderful comments thus far, for following this story that was hard to write, painful to remember and equally hard for you to read.

Emergency Hotline for Domestic Violence
1−800−799−SAFE(7233) or TTY 1−800−787−3224.
On the web at National Domestic Violence Hotline
at http://www.ndvh.org/

Resource List for Abused Women (divided by country and state/province) at http://www.safe4all.org/resource-list/index?category=2

Having An Affair Part 1
Having An Affair Part 2
Having An Affair Part 3
Having An Affair Part 4
Having An Affair Part 5
Having An Affair Part (final)

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Having An Affair (5)

This posting is a continuation of Having An Affair (4) at www.theredheadriter.com/2009/11/having-affair-4.html which is the story of my friend, Sophia.

"Mark came out of the bathroom, dragged me onto the bed, covered my mouth with one hand and proceeded to continually punch me with the other. When I thought I couldn't bear any more, he quit punching me and raped me. Then he pressed his lips against my ear and whispered these words that still haunt me... 'You better behave or the children will have a new mommy.'"

"Still angry, he slid off the bed, dressed and left the house. I was hurting too badly to cry. My entire body was pulsing with pain. I don't know how long I was there, but eventually I covered myself with the blanket and fell into fitful sleep."

"Are you okay?" Sophia asked me.

I was crying. "I'll be fine," I said. My sympathetic soul was feeling her story too vividly. I secretly prayed that my sweet daughter would never fall into the trap that Sophia was now living. I felt so sorry for this beautiful woman, a child of God, prey to an abusive husband.

"I went to the doctor the next day," Sophia said. "I had a cracked rib. The doctor knew I had been beaten, but I told him I fell down the stairs. He didn't argue with me, but mysteriously two female police officers appeared in the waiting room before my appointment was over. I didn't approach them because I couldn't tell them anything. I kept hearing Mark's whispers of a new mommy and I was terrified."

"You didn't tell them anything even though they just 'happened' to be there?" I asked astonished.

"No," was her simple one word reply.

"I eventually healed. Mark didn't mention anything about my broken rib, the red thong, or a new mommy during the months that followed. He acted like nothing out of the ordinary had happened and so did I."

"Why?" I asked.

"Why?" Sophia slowly repeated. "Because I had Jacob and Meredith to think about. We needed a place to live and food on our table. I couldn't support them by myself. I had healed and it wasn't too bad."

Denial and fear.

I didn't argue with her. Sophia was in a mind trap. I think staying in an abusive marriage is not a healthy choice - physically, mentally or emotionally. Children who live in a home filled with abuse, often abuse their own children. It becomes a vicious family cycle forever spiraling downward.

"Our marriage reached a plateau at this point I think," Sophia said contemplatively. "We quit talking about personal things. When I found the odd receipt for lingerie or lipstick stains on the inside of his shirts, I didn't say anything. I was unhappy, but looking back, I guess I wasn't unhappy enough to do something about it. I know he had an affair with his secretary, Estelle. I don't know how many others or if there were others, but I am sure there was Estelle."

Sophia was speaking slowly now as if each word was physically painful to speak. Estelle hung in the air. I could almost feel her in the room.

"I needed to have Mark sign some insurance documents and went by his office one afternoon. When I reached the outer office where Estelle's desk was located, the room was completely empty. I assumed that Mark and Estelle had gone to a meeting. I found an envelope and slipped a note inside asking Mark to sign it and drop the whole thing in the mail on his way home. I didn't want to leave it on Estelle's desk, so I approached Mark's closed office door, turned the door handle and walked in with the intention of placing the envelope on his desk."

"Instead of an empty office, I found Mark naked and completely entwined with Estelle on the top of his desk. His pants were on the floor in a strewn mess with her dress. We all stood frozen, staring at each other for what seemed like an eternity, but was surely only a few seconds. Before he could even speak, yell, or move, I had left the room, slamming the door behind me."

"How could you stay married to him after THAT?" I blurted out and immediately felt like a hypocrit.

"I don't know," she said. "I think I was so locked inside of myself that although it hurt, I felt that living without him would hurt even more and I couldn't face a life without him. Part of me hated him, but I still loved the person I married. Unfortunately, the person I married was more a figment of my imagination than reality."

We both sat quietly for a few minutes. I was letting everything roll around in my head trying to make sense out of why Sophia stayed. Why do women stay? I know that women have a need to be loved so badly that if they have any unresolved issues, their self-esteem is too low and they stay with the abuser. I knew that mentality far too well. I have never been physically abused, but unfortunately, I was both mentally and emotionally abused and it was so hard to let go of him.

"When he returned home after work," Sophia interjected through the silence, "we never spoke of the incident."

"OH MY GOSH!" I exclaimed. "I can not imagine NEVER bringing it up!"

"We just didn't bring it up. The entire relationship was all messed up. He flagrantly cheated with no thought of the pain and embarrassment it caused me. I was oblivious to the fact that I could make a choice to change my life. It was just awful. When we went to bed that night, I ached to be loved. I could feel the warmth of his skin and the memories of our early young love filled my mind while the tears fell freely from my eyes. I must have sniffled or something because Mark abruptly turned around to look at me. For just a moment I saw the Mark I married. He put his arms around me and kissed my tears. I needed him. I loved him. I couldn't set any boundaries. I was like his puppet on a string. We made love that night, but it wasn't really love for Mark.. For him it was just sex. To me, it was a needy obsessive love all mixed up together with fear. From that union I got pregnant with Jeremy."

I held the phone and said nothing. I couldn't judge her. I know that agonizing longing to have the one you love hold you and love you back. It is so primally basic. Sophia couldn't "make" Mark love her any more than I could "make" someone love me. At that moment I hated Sophia. I hated Mark. I hated myself. I hated everything to do with love. Love is painful. Why do women love men that don't love them back?!!!




Having An Affair Part 1
Having An Affair Part 2
Having An Affair Part 3
Having An Affair Part 4
Having An Affair Part 5
Having An Affair Part (final)

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Having An Affair (4)

This posting is a continuation of Having An Affair (3) at http://www.theredheadriter.com/2009/11/having-an-affair-3.html which is the story of my friend, Sophia.

"The next day he acted as though nothing unusual had happened. When he leaned to kiss me, I winced at his touch. He asked me if I was sick and that is when I told him that I thought I was pregnant. I felt upside down after the events of the night before and having another child wasn't at the top of my list of things to do." Sophia took a slight pause, breathed in deeply and continued.

"As it turned out, I was pregnant with Meredith. Mark insisted on going to every doctor appointment with me. There had been no other explosive or demanding behavior since that dreadful night. My pregnancy was beautiful and I tried hard to concentrate on my health, my son and my unborn daughter. By the time Meredith was born, I had relaxed and the joy of having another baby soothed my troubled heart."

"Meredith was an easy baby and Mark seemed to enjoy helping me tend to her fussiness in the middle of the night when I felt wiped out. I had actually started to believe that I imagined the whole thing until a pair of red, lace thongs fell out of his suit pants pocket one afternoon while I was doing laundry. An immediate and violent wave of nausea pierced my stomach sending me to vomit continuously for half an hour."

By now, Sophia didn't expect me to say anything. She didn't even check to see if I was on the other end of the line. I could tell by the way she spoke that each word shot her further and further into the past and the feelings that she experienced then were intruding on her life now.

"When I finished vomiting, I started crying. No, I started sobbing," she continued. "I sobbed until my entire body sobbed. I didn't believe I could hurt so badly. I thought I was going to die from the pain. The sobs remained even after I finished crying. My face was swollen, red and my head pounded with an overwhelming headache."

"I had so many emotions warring inside of me. I felt trapped in my body, in my home and in my marriage. I hated him. I loved him. I hated that I loved him. What was I going to do? That is all I could think about for the rest of the afternoon."

Sophia had become quiet. I felt as though someone had hit me with a baseball bat and knocked all the wind out of me. I was hurting. So often, as a General Manager of a hotel, I had seen the sadness caused by cheating spouses. There were always the frantic calls from the wife. Her voice filled with the agony of the unknown. She would call her husband's room hoping to receive confirmation that he was safe and reassurance that he was alone. Of course, I couldn't tell the wife that her husband was in his room with a voluptuous woman and was blatantly ignoring her calls. I couldn't tell her that before he went up to his room, I had to type a message in the computer that said, "Do not disturb. Do not under any circumstances tell anyone (including his wife) that he is in the room or that you have seen him."

Sometimes the wives would call all night long...hundreds of times.

The morning would arrive. The very happy husband could often be overheard chatting to his wife. While he ate breakfast, he explained to her that the plane was late, he was out with clients, the phone in his room didn't work, his cell phone battery died, or he had fallen asleep and didn't hear the phone. The lies were never ending. No matter how you look at it, cheating hurts people...eventually.

Sophia had started talking again. "When Mark got home at 10:00 p.m. I was awake, sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for him. He was so happy when he walked through the door. He was a handsome man, but now Mark looked so ugly to me."

"'Hi Honey!' he said looking straight into my eyes."

"I simply opened my hand, held the edge of the thong and let the offending garment dangle between us. For a second there was an unveiled fleeting recollection in his eyes and then it was gone. He turned to go into the bathroom and then stopped. Turning around, all he said was, 'If you didn't look like THAT, maybe I wouldn't need to find anyone else.'"

"As his eyes went up and down my body with a look of utter disgust, I felt ugly. I felt repugnant, appalling, revolting, and completely loathsome. I was completely unwanted and undesirable. I felt that it was all my fault that he found pleasure in another woman's arms. He deserved the happiness he felt while being consumed in another woman's beautiful body. I didn't deserve him."

I winced. I could hear her crying now. I too knew the pain of blatant rejection in the face of pain. There aren't any words that give comfort. There is no place to run or hide. The pain just keeps on hurting. I'm not sure that any woman can completely "get over" that deep of a wound.

I sat quietly on the phone listening to her cry for quite a while. I kept thinking about my mother. So many times I have held her and heard the same hopeless, helpless crying. How many times had I buried my own face in the pillow and sobbed for hours in my lonely room?

Have you known that kind of aching pain?

Having An Affair Part 1
Having An Affair Part 2
Having An Affair Part 3
Having An Affair Part 4
Having An Affair Part 5
Having An Affair Part (final)

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Having An Affair (3)

This posting is a continuation of Having An Affair (2) at http://www.theredheadriter.com/2009/11/having-affair-2.html which is the story of my friend, Sophia.

About the same time the next day, Sophia called. Jeremy was taking a nap and Jacob, only five years old, was playing with the neighbor's son. She started with the normal pleasantries, but I could tell she was only half listening to my responses.

When she asked, "Do you have time to talk now?" I was sorely tempted to say no, but the pleading nature of her voice stopped me.

"Sure. Was there something in particular you wanted to talk about?" I asked hoping that she didn't want to finish her story. I thought about her all night and didn't sleep well. Domestic violence had been prevalent in my family history and the subject always gets my rankles up.

"I'm sorry I had to stop short yesterday," she apologized.

"That's okay. Did you want to continue today?" I asked, feeling more like an unqualified therapist.

"Yes, if you don't mind."

"I don't mind," I said, "but don't you think you should be telling this to a trained professional?"

There was a slight pause and Sophia responded. "No, not right now, but if you don't want to talk about it..." she ended with a trailing plea in her voice.

"Oh no, that isn't what I meant," I quickly retorted. "If you feel comfortable talking to me, I am happy to listen and do whatever I can to help."

There. I had done the thing I didn't want to do. I completely volunteered my time to listen and help with something that was way over my head. It scared me. I wanted to convince Sophia to call a therapist, but I could tell that she didn't feel it was an option. So, I patiently listened and prayed that I would say the right thing.

"For several days," she began, "he just completely ignored me. When I spoke to him, Mark either didn't respond or made a semblance of grunts. He didn't even ask about my face which now sported a yellowish bruise or the ten stitches in my head. I felt disoriented like I was living in the Twilight Zone. He had completely removed the offending oil spot on the driveway. I stood at the upstairs window and watched as he scrubbed at it with ferocious anger. I did not understand his preoccupation with the stain, but I was too scared to broach the subject again for fear of his reaction."

Sophia breathed heavily into the phone and continued.

"By the end of the third week, he started talking to me again. At first, just small talk, but eventually the relationship returned to the pre-oil stain incident. Well, almost. When we made love it was almost like the first time all over again. He was consumed with every aspect of my body and although it was exciting, something deep within me was still frightened of him and his actions during sex."

"Each morning," she said, "I would shove the entire incident to the back of my mind, pretending that it didn't happen. I repeatedly told myself that I made it out to be something bigger than just a bout of anger. I was conflicted and tormented every time I went into the kitchen. The memory just seemed to hang there, but I refused to let it take over my mind."

"The rest of the summer was uneventful. Mark's career was flourishing. We went to a company party with Jacob. There was constant admiration at his cuteness. How can a two year old not be cute, you know?"

"Yes," I replied, "children are so adorable. Every little nuance of a child melts my heart."

At the time, my daughter was eleven and so bubbly and full of life. It seemed then and still feels like it was only a few months ago that she was two, running around in frilly pink panties and calling my name a million times a day. "Mom" is my name you know...sometimes I forget the other one. Sophia's unhappiness reminded me how happy I was in my own life with my beautiful daughter.

Sophia continued with a little tighter strain to her voice. "Mark introduced me to everyone at his office including his very beautiful secretary. I winced at the thought of him looking at such a beautiful, single woman every day especially since I still had some 'baby fat' left over from Jacob. Estelle, his secretary, was perfectly coiffed with a trendy dress, long red fingernails, stylish hair cut and perfectly applied make-up. I swear she looked just like a model out of the pages of Vogue. I didn't like the way she looked at Mark or touched his arm when she spoke to him."

With a sadness in her voice, Sophia said, "I didn't say anything to Mark about my dislike of her. Then one day in the early winter months, Mark and I had just finished watching a movie and were heading up to bed. I was feeling a little nauseated all day, so when he made advances to make love, I told him that I didn't want to because I felt sick. Before I could even tell him that I thought I might be pregnant again, he got that same wild look in his eyes and started a low, controlled yell through his gritted teeth."

"'Did you have sex all week with your oil stain lover?!' he gritted as he grabbed the hair on the back of my head and pulled me towards him. I was so scared, confused and I stared into his face pleading for him not to hurt me. He sneered at me, practically threw me on the bed and essentially raped me. I didn't know that a married man could rape his wife until that night."

I was shaking by the time Sophia got to this part of her story. I felt sick inside for her and the members of my family that I knew had experienced this as well.

Having An Affair Part 1
Having An Affair Part 2
Having An Affair Part 3
Having An Affair Part 4
Having An Affair Part 5
Having An Affair Part (final)

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Join here.

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Having An Affair (2)

This posting is a continuation of Having An Affair at http://www.theredheadriter.com/2009/11/having-affair.html which is the story of my friend, Sophia.

"While we were dating and during our earlier years of marriage, Mark was always courteous and kind. When we disagreed, he didn't yell. Actually, we didn't disagree that often and we always had a resolution," Sophia began. "By the time our first child was born, Mark had received several promotions at work resulting in a very lucrative "office" job. One evening he arrived home and without even a greeting, asked me how the oil spot got on the driveway. I told him that I had no idea. I knew something was wrong. I could feel it. I tried to concentrate on the happy sounds of neighbor children playing outside drifting in through the open kitchen window."

At this point, I began to tense because I had a bad feeling about the turn Sophia's story was taking and I feared the ending.

"I like my kitchen. Do you like my kitchen?" she asked in more of a thoughtful statement than a question.

"Uh huh," was my short reply.

She continued unhurriedly. "He asked me if anyone had come over to visit and I told him that no one had visited, but that seemed to anger him."

"'Who has been to the house today?!'" he shouted.

"'No one,'I told him and the look of anger on his face scared me," Sophia said. "I hadn't ever seen that look on him before and it was almost deranged."

"That's when he slapped me across my face so hard that I heard bells ringing and saw the lights flickering. My face was burning and my jaw ached. I grabbed my face and cried out in pain, but that seemed to only anger him more. He pushed me into the cabinet, held my head between both his hands and screamed into my face that if he ever caught another man with me he would kill us both."

I could tell that Sophia had wanted to share her story with someone for a long time because the words just kept tumbling out of her and she didn't even expect a response from me at all. My insides, however, were churning.

"Not only was I hurting, but I was so shocked by his behavior that I didn't know what to do or think. Mark let go of my head after he slammed it into the cabinet hard enough to give me an immediate headache."

At this point she stopped and sighed, "That seems like such a long time ago."

Then she continued, "I didn't really have any idea how the oil spot got on the driveway or why it mattered. Where did the idea of another man come from because I felt that we had a strong marriage and cheating on him had never entered my mind? I heard him go out the front door slamming it behind him and drive away. I felt lightheaded and as I went to the bathroom to inspect my face, I reached up to the back of my head to feel a large knot. When I brought my hand down in front of me, I realized that there was blood all over my hand. My head was bleeding from being knocked into the cabinet so hard. I got another mirror so that I could inspect it. I needed stitches. I had no idea how I would explain this to the hospital especially since his hand had left a very bright red print on my face. I was still quite shaken, but I called the neighbor girl to come over and babysit my son so that I could go to the hospital. "

Sophia stopped and helped her youngest, Jeremy, blow his nose. He was only a one year old then.

"I barely remember the drive to the hospital or getting stitched up," Sophia continued. "I vaguely remember explaining that I fell and all the nurses looking at me like I was a liar. I held to my story no matter how many people they paraded in front of me. Then I drove home, put my son to bed, and waited anxiously for Mark to get home which he did well after midnight. He came in, went into the bathroom, got in the bed and didn't even speak to me. Actually, he didn't even acknowledge my existence in the bed. For a long time, with my eyes unable to shut, I just stared at the ceiling listening to him breathe. My face and head ached, but my heart ached even more. Eventually I fell asleep and in the morning when I awoke, Mark had already left for work."

All I could think to say was, "That is so awful Sophia. I'm so sorry." I knew it sounded lame, but I'm not a trained professional psychologist and I was shaken by the memories she was sharing with me.

I could hear her children crying in the background. Sophia promised to call me again soon, but had to go attend to the children's dinner and wishing me goodbye, hung up.

"Domestic violence
does not only
happen to adults.
Forty percent of girls
ages 14 to 17
report knowing someone
their age who has been hit
or beaten by a boyfriend,
and approximately one in five
female high school students
reports being physically
and/or sexually abused
by a dating partner."
~Dianne Feinstein~

Having An Affair Part 1
Having An Affair Part 2
Having An Affair Part 3
Having An Affair Part 4
Having An Affair Part 5
Having An Affair Part (final)

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Having An Affair

A friend.

An abused wife.

There are friends at work, friends at church, friends in the neighborhood, friends at school, and the friends that don't fit in any category. Most of the time, none of the friends in the different groups meet each other. At least, that is how it is in my life..

In the small category of "friends that don't fit in any category" is a woman that is kind, loving, intelligent, serves her family, and doesn't blog, read my blog or know any of my other friends. I know that if she did read my blog, she would not be offended and would hope that it helped someone somewhere. Even though none of my family or friends would know her if I used her real name, I am just going to call her Sophia.

In a beautiful home in a quiet neighborhood on the outskirts of town, Sophia lives with her husband, three children and a little dog name Rosco. She has been married to her high school sweetheart, Mark, for eleven years and they have been blessed with three children: Jacob, 10; Meredith 8; Jeremy 6 (all the names have been changed).

Sophia is a beautiful woman and I find her to be very intelligent, quite witty and enjoy long conversations with her. She has many friends, but no one really close until one day when she opened her heart to bear her soul to me.

I have that affect on people and I don't know why. I do wear my emotions on my sleeve most of the time or when I think it is concealed, it shows in my eyes. I just am not that great at hiding my feelings. Sometimes friends and sometimes perfect strangers tell me things that they don't intend to tell me, but once it is out in the open, they don't quit talking. Often it is very personal information, which leads to lots of tissues being used by them and me. I cry too easy too. When I was young and people started this "tell all" I didn't know how to react, but as I have grown older, I have learned to listen and show compassion. I hope I have also been able to impart wisdom from time to time. I think this has molded me into a better friend and person. I often think that if "this were my daughter" I would want someone to listen to her.

While talking one day, Sophia tells me that her husband has a violent temper. This immediately makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I guess I fear a man's physical strength and I have seen the damage that it can do to a woman's body. Strong men with hard fists scare me. Not wanting to pry, I simply say, "Oh."

"He didn't used to have such a bad temper," Sophia said almost trying to lead the conversation to a topic she found unpleasant.

What followed was a long pause because I did not want to encourage her to talk about it. I remember selfishly thinking, "I have enough on my own plate."

When the pause actually became uncomfortable to me and guilt set in, I finally responded softly, "Do you want to talk about it."

I knew she was going to spill her guts and I tried to brace myself for the onslaught of emotions that I was sure would take over my rational thinking. I become involved from the first moment and I pour so much of myself into helping someone that it is often hard to let go. I keep working on this aspect of my personality.

Sophia opened the flood gates and began telling me her story.

"A beast does not know
that he is a beast,
and the nearer a man gets
to being a beast,
the less he knows it."
~George McDonald~
I don't want to give you a novel to read in one post, so I will try to catch you up to the present over several posts that you can read and digest rather than dumping it all in your lap. Hopefully the story of Sophia can help other women who suffer the same agonies of an unhappy life. Please feel free to give your opinion and advice because I am often at a loss for words yet my heart aches because of her sadness.

Are you a good listener or do you run before the conversation gets tough?

Having An Affair Part 1
Having An Affair Part 2
Having An Affair Part 3
Having An Affair Part 4
Having An Affair Part 5
Having An Affair Part (final)

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Motivation with Frogs
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Tableware-Elegant China
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