How To Start A Lawn Mower

“They’re finally here! Now we can actually do gifts,” she announced the moment I opened the door to my in-law’s house.

The overflowing pile of gifts featured the same overabundance of random useless junk she found on clearance. She often tried to prove her love through material goods, but this year was different.

The subject of decluttering had re-emerged as a topic again over the last few months, and it was going better than it ever had in the past. I guess she was doing it for real this time. Disappearing into the garage, we could hear her moving bins and a few wicker baskets hitting the floor. Talking loud enough for us to hear, she proudly announced how well the decluttering of the house was going by telling everyone she found my gift while cleaning out the garage.

Bounding in from the garage with a smile, she rushed the unwrapped and freezing cold gift over to me. I looked down at the gift she hastily plopped on my lap, and I saw a fireplace starter kit from two seasons ago. It looked incredibly ratty, hosting a layer of thick dust, and parts of the wax-dipped pinecones were chipped or completely missing. She was known to keep price tags on her gifts and brought special attention to the clearance sticker on mine this year.

Once she had everyone's attention, she explained how she had spotted it at a post-holiday clearance sale at a chain store, and she couldn't pass it up. "This was... not last season, but the season before, I think, maybe more," she continued, "and I was hoping to use it myself, but since it was late February when I bought it, I mean, Winter just went by in a blink. Well, then, naturally, it just got lost in a mess, right?" she said with a self-deprecating smile, pointing to the piles of books, toys, and random seasonal decor around us. Just another reminder, this is the environment my ex-husband grew up in; it’s like he was raised in a barn. He leaves a trail of destruction and mess, just as his mother does.

Receiving gifts from the clearance bin was nothing unusual, at least the gifts I was given. Since this wasn't a guilt-driven gift, it was far from something sentimental, endearing, or selected with any emotional consideration. My husband and she would often tag team the game of manipulating me to see how sad they could get me in a controlled environment.

As I finished trying to cover my sadness with a forced smile, I heard my husband say, “Oh, wow, this is perfect! Thanks, Mom!” I turned to see the gift and saw him holding up a sweater similar to the one I had given him at our gift exchange that morning. Suddenly, it occurred to me why she called me last week; she never called me, and she suddenly wanted to have a meaningful conversation with me. She was calling to find out what I was giving him and decided to buy the same thing.

Trying to hide her sly smile from seeing my reaction, she sprang up to put dinner in the oven and announced from the kitchen it had to bake for three hours. Being notoriously late for everything, I understand she has a time management issue, or so she wants everyone to think. However, making a holiday dinner late to the table was a new level for her. At least the bake would cover up the smell of the rotting food she was hoarding. A hoarder of books, clothes, and trinkets is one thing, but food? Gross.

Her behavior doesn't stop at gifts, either. I brought a dish to go with her typical menu, making sure I didn't make anything she would already be serving, and there was nothing special about it, it just got a lot of attention because it was new. I only brought something because she mentioned a concern of not having enough on the table. My father-in-law liked it so much that he asked me to give her the recipe, and asked me to make it when we visit the mountains.

She started asking me what's in it and then found a similar recipe, which uses yogurt, not sour cream like mine. It wasn't my recipe; I found it on a popular social media post, so why was she getting so defensive? She doesn’t allow me to cook for the family anymore and always includes her version of the cornbread at family meals, especially in the mountains.

“Dinner... Everyone sit down!” She shouts merrily from the kitchen.

Her favorite part of family gatherings is the meal. She has everyone’s attention and can fling passive-aggressive statements at me as she pleases with a much larger audience. Though, I was somewhat relieved because it had gotten so late due to the ridiculously timed three-hour bake. Our departure was growing near, which she desperately tried to push back.

“Charles de Gaulle Airport is huge! I walked the entire length of it a few times on my first trip, looking for the shop selling the marionettes. Not anymore! I know where everything is now,” she announced gleefully. No family meal was complete without hearing the same three Paris stories.

Marionettes are a big deal in Europe. She brought a few back from her second trip… you know, the trip where she walked all over the city, in the rain, with a broken foot. She selected the perfect one and gave it to my five-year-old son as a gift. Her rudeness and immaturity were no longer a surprise. Still, I had no idea I was dealing with an abuser brazen enough to gift a marionette to someone they were manipulating.

“No! First, you prime, then you pull the cord!” She argued back to her brother.

What did I miss? Is she talking about a lawn mower? This is the moment I realized how desperate for attention she is. She's one of those people who has a solid answer for everything, even if they have no idea what they are talking about. At least she’s done talking about Paris.

When we got home after spending time with his parents, I was always utterly exhausted. Having been one-upped, challenged, abused, discarded, mocked, and blamed for just about anything that happened, anyone would be. I put my son to bed and decided to go to bed myself.

As I headed to the bedroom, I noticed the light on downstairs, which meant he would be there for a while. I was never sure what he was doing. He has always been a bit of a night owl, creating some friction in our relationship. I’m sure if he had a choice, he would spend most of his waking hours at night, and he created a habit of coming to bed around 2 am, which made it my responsibility to get up with my son who is a naturally early riser.

Reflecting on the barn-like environment my ex-husband steadily maintains, combined with the fact that he is notoriously known to be a creature of the night, I can't imagine his spirit animal is anything other than a barn owl.

“Can you get the stain off of these pants?” My husband asked with his brows furrowed.

On his first day back to work after the long weekend, he had nothing to wear. I got the stains off all his clothing, even those he didn’t ask me to do because he expected me to. This time was different; he wanted me to do it right then so he could wear them to work. He was leaving for work in ten minutes, and his schedule was usually flexible enough to be a few minutes late, but not on school days. He needed to drop our son off, and I was trying to motivate him to eat breakfast while making and packing his lunch.

I was willing to remove the stain, but it would have to wait. He usually spent most mornings getting ready upstairs while I was getting our son ready downstairs and would join us just before he left. This morning, he arrived, giving me just enough time to get the stain out.

He used word salad while arguing or when he had something to hide. You have an exchange of words but no actual exchange of information. We went back and forth for about eight of the ten minutes because he was repeatedly unsatisfied with my responses.

He couldn't demand I remove the stain because he didn’t want me to realize he was manipulating me. Instead, he carefully phrased his request in other ways, stirring up different emotions like blame ("Seems like you might be a little behind on laundry."), incompetence ("Some stains are harder to get out than others. This should be an easy one for you."), desperation ("I have an important meeting today with a new client we are trying to land, and these are the only pants that go with my lucky shirt."), and sympathy ("Please, I've gained so much weight; this is one of the two pairs that still fit me. The other ones are still in the dirty clothes basket."), all the while being charming as usual. It is a skill he has been honing for years.

He was trying to manipulate me to get immediate action, and ut wasn't until that moment that I realized what was happening. I told him to put the pants aside I would get to the stain later. This angered him because I wasn’t doing what I was told.

He surrendered in that battle. I pushed back by reclaiming my autonomy and reminding him he could remove the stain himself because I was in a mood that morning. They were only stained because they spent their life on the floor in the first place.

After he left with my son and I got ready for my day, I opened the laptop to look up how to remove a ketchup stain, and there was an incognito window open. He had been checking out a marathon I mentioned, which looked like it could be fun for our next run-cation. Somehow, I was still a little bit happy he wanted to go on a run-cation, even if it was after he masturbated to pornography. After observing the trend of his 2 am bedtime, I had a suspicion, though I never asked. If I had, I doubt it would have been an honest answer anyway.

“Next time you are surfing porn, could you at least close the window when you are done?”

My text got his attention. He raced home and wanted to talk about our relationship for the first time in the 15 years we had been together. He was spending hours on the internet surfing pornography and seeking out other women, creating his chain of betrayal instead of being intimate with me.

This turned out to be a slight diversion tactic, and the cover held me over for a while. He entertained himself with porn, and his late bedtimes would be even later after time with his parents. He had an odd relationship with his mother, which included sexual energy.

Years passed, and our relationship became more strained until it hit the point of no return; I found out his chronic masturbation included child pornography. After I served him with an order of protection, my son told me my mother-in-law was sexually abusing him. As my son discloses more, I am slowly learning exactly how disgusting of a person she is. I don't doubt my ex-husbands addiction to child pornography was a result of the sexual abuse his mother violated him with.

The mental mess inside of us is the subconscious creator of our environment. If we are unfortunate enough to have been sexually abused as a child, our growth and maturity process stops emotionally. Our cognitive intelligence is limitless, but our emotional intelligence may remain at the age at which the first offense occurred. His mother was struggling with the same thing. He continued the pattern, regardless of whether he wanted to or was aware of it. This is a prime example of generational trauma.

Abusers have ill intent when it comes to worthiness. He intended to destroy my sense of self, and it worked. He was actively delaying my progress and using me as much as possible. This became noticeable, but only as the damage took its toll.

Articulating the intricacies of covert abuse to someone is very difficult. While it has narcissistic characteristics, it also has borderline characteristics. The one thing that makes it abusive is finding out the person did it intentionally by doing it intermittently and circumstantially. The examples always seem arbitrary and innocent and often make the survivor sound very petty because the abuse itself is on that level. This is what makes it so successful.

They begin the denial, triangulation, and projection process by acting ashamed of us because of our inability to be the bigger person when, in fact, they are the ones driving the drama. When the survivor follows the suggestion of being the bigger person by letting it go or moving on, it allows the abuser free reign to manipulate the survivor. This happens when an adult has the emotional stability of a child with the skill of a seasoned manipulator and knows how to effectively charm others into following their lead.

The nature of abuse, especially covert abuse, is fine-tuned and based on what will affect the survivor. There is a surprising amount of effective strategies. Dog-whistling is when the abuse is delivered under the premise of a random joke or compliments someone else on something the survivor is insecure about. Insecurities are often only shared with intimate partners, so the interaction flies under everyone else's radar and is not considered harmful, making it a direct personal dig to the survivor.

Being in an abusive relationship turns everything we know about open communication upside down. Triggering passive-aggressive statements are disguised as compliments, and the survivor is then criticized for being so sensitive. Constructive criticism will turn into a scene, while abusers can fling insults, claiming they are just trying to help.

A healthy marriage allows space for our growth and fruition while contributing to the other person by being open to feedback and adjusting our behavior within boundaries. This lets our partners feel validated and cared for while contributing to their development. In the case of a romantic relationship, abusers work directly against this with insults, demands, and negative comments about my day, my lifestyle, or my skills. This is emotionally destructive to their partners.

To this day, I’m impressed with the tactics they used. When I noticed the consistent presence of a smirk, I saw a pattern of pride after they successfully pushed my limits, intending to hurt me. In hindsight, I recognized the abuse was reinforcing my lack of self-worth, which he recognized immediately, and I became a prime target.

We can’t control who our parents are, but we can choose what we do in our lives. We can grow, heal, and forgive by accepting our parents aren’t perfect. They’re just people with a host of problems that are unique to them.

The first step to surviving a mentally, emotionally, financially, sexually, physically, and psychologically abusive relationship is recognizing you are in one. Abuse tactics are called tactics because they are effective in manipulating the survivors. Once it's recognized, you will need help getting out of it because of how well your abuser knows you and how little you know them; it's designed that way.

They have secret lives you know nothing about and will only learn about once they know you are serious about being done. Once you are able to exit the relationship, not only does it mean the abuse is not going to stop, it will probably get even worse. It is important to do everything possible to disconnect from our abusers.

The most crucial step to surviving an abusive relationship is the healing. The abuse is not your fault, however it is your responsibility to heal, learn, and grow. If you discover you are in an abusive relationship, you have been chosen to break the cycle by changing your trajectory because of your strength, resilience, and your huge heart.

Surviving an abusive relationship was one of the largest blessings in disguise, and putting in the work to change your life is worth its weight in gold.