One evening, during a mother/daughter weekend at my university, I came to a point where I could not handle the pressures that were being put on me from my mother and future husband. At that time in our relationship they could not stand one another. (Let me say that now they love each other very much!) On the night it all started though, my mother was upset because I had taken time from "our" weekend to iron his shirt. She was SO upset about it that when I told her I was running it over to him, she told me that she would not be there when I got back. I knew that she was just exaggerating, so I told her that I would be right back.
When I got to his apartment I was so frustrated with the fact that she actually said she would leave that I just unloaded on him. When I did, and he could see my frustration, of course he started ranting about her. At this point I could not take it any longer. It seemed as if for a few moments I lost control. I started hitting my head with the palms of my hands. He quickly grabbed my wrists and asked me what I was doing. I told him I didn't know and that I was just frustrated. He was so bothered by it that he called my dad and told him what had happened. Then my dad called my mother and told her to head home. She was gone before I got back to my room. I want you all to know that I DO NOT place any blame on my mother or my husband for any of that or what followed.
For the next ten years I struggled with this hitting thing. I would hit my head, arms, chest, stomach and legs. I started hitting so hard at one time that I left bruises. For years my husband didn't even know what was happening. He knew that I would get mad about things and would want to throw someting, but he didn't know that when he or I left the room and I was alone, I was hitting myself. Some times were harder than others. When we moved to a new town, and I didn't have "someone" to talk to, it would be worse. When we were trying to get pregnant and were having a difficult time, it was worse. During my first pregnancy and the two years between the two children was not so bad, but after having the second one, it got worse again.
When I got to his apartment I was so frustrated with the fact that she actually said she would leave that I just unloaded on him. When I did, and he could see my frustration, of course he started ranting about her. At this point I could not take it any longer. It seemed as if for a few moments I lost control. I started hitting my head with the palms of my hands. He quickly grabbed my wrists and asked me what I was doing. I told him I didn't know and that I was just frustrated. He was so bothered by it that he called my dad and told him what had happened. Then my dad called my mother and told her to head home. She was gone before I got back to my room. I want you all to know that I DO NOT place any blame on my mother or my husband for any of that or what followed.
For the next ten years I struggled with this hitting thing. I would hit my head, arms, chest, stomach and legs. I started hitting so hard at one time that I left bruises. For years my husband didn't even know what was happening. He knew that I would get mad about things and would want to throw someting, but he didn't know that when he or I left the room and I was alone, I was hitting myself. Some times were harder than others. When we moved to a new town, and I didn't have "someone" to talk to, it would be worse. When we were trying to get pregnant and were having a difficult time, it was worse. During my first pregnancy and the two years between the two children was not so bad, but after having the second one, it got worse again.
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