Twenty-eight years of my life. That’s how long I endured mental and emotional abuse and neglect from my first husband. That may seem crazy: I mean, why would anyone want to stay in an abusive relationship for so long? The answer is both simple and complicated. As is the case with so many women living in patriarchal cultures, the reason is twofold: 1) I had two children to care for; and 2) I didn’t think I could make it on my own.
Patriarchy cripples women by making them dependent upon men for their existence. I was one of the crippled ones—a bird, whose wings had been clipped and whose body had been shoved into a cage called “Home”. I married right out of high school and had no work experience. So I literally depended upon my ex for everything.
My ex, who had treated me like a queen before we were married, was “Mr. Happy Man” to the outside world. Everybody in our rural, upstate New York community loved him. He seemed jovial, always laughing and making corny jokes. But, after the ring was on my finger, when the door was shut to the outside world and we were alone in our home, the mask came off. He was not a “happy man”.
Like many men raised in a home with a strict patriarchal father, my ex, who was not by nature a “macho” kind of guy, grew up lacking self confidence. So in order to feel “big” and “in charge” he found the perfect “punching bag” in me—not physically (he never laid a hand on me) but verbally, emotionally and mentally. He fine-honed his skill, over the years of our marriage, of slicing and dicing me verbally and neglecting me to the point that, as my second husband, Jerry, once noted:
“Honey, he made you feel lower than whale shit at the bottom of the ocean!”
Yeah…That’s pretty accurate! My self-esteem, what little I had of it going into the marriage, was stripped away, bit by bit—kind of like having your nails ripped off, one by one.
Physical abuse is terrible. I don’t want to minimize the horrors, or the pain, of being beaten and bloodied. But sometimes we forget how damaging mental and emotional abuse and neglect can be, and how difficult it is to heal from it. The problem is this: With physical abuse, there are “tells”: The black eyes, bloodied lips, the cuts, bruises, broken noses, arms, legs, ribs, etc. The damage can be seen. Not so with mental/emotional abuse and neglect. That kind of damage is done through words—hurtful name-calling, accusations, mockery, mean and spiteful teasing, the “shame-and-blame” game. It’s also done through neglect: in my case, my ex never bought me a birthday gift—or even a card; he didn’t acknowledge me on any holiday—not Valentine’s day, Mother’s Day, not even Christmas. No cards, no gifts, nothing. And what did I do? I shoved it all down, put on a smile, and pretended everything was okay.
Mental and emotional abuse and neglect is the silent, unseen killer of self-worth. Your best friend may be suffering from it, and you might not even notice. Chances are, you won’t.
As I mentioned earlier, I stayed in that toxic relationship because I had no college education and no work experience, outside of the home.. Another factor was my small-town upbringing. I was raised to believe that you don’t just throw away your marriage: You worked through the hard times. You persevered. Also, as I was in the Christian religion at the time, I believed it was my job to submit to my husband, as long as he wasn’t physically threatening my life. He was, after all, God’s appointed “Head” (authority) over me, and who was I to question God?
This is Patriarchy’s subtle brainwashing of Womanity: make us believe we MUST have a man to guard, guide and decide for us. Because Eve screwed up the world, right?
Eventually, my ex decided a wife wasn’t enough. He needed a girlfriend on the side. And when I discovered his infidelity, I knew I couldn’t stay with him any longer. Although I was terrified of being on my own, I knew I couldn’t subject myself, or my daughters, to his abusive, neglectful ways any longer. I thought I had finally secured a “just way” (according to the Bible) to leave my marriage. I went to the Elder Women of my church and told them what was going on and looked to them for help: Surely they would counsel me to leave him. How shocked I was to hear them say, “You can’t leave your husband! God hates divorce. You need to go home and try harder to be a better and more submissive wife, so your husband doesn’t feel the need for comfort from another woman!”
BAM! The weight of those words fell on me, hard! The burden and responsibility for the success or failure of my marriage landed squarely on me, not my roving, abusive, neglectful husband. I had to try harder. Not him. I went home that afternoon dispirited, disillusioned…Later, as I stood at the kitchen sink, washing the supper dishes, I picked up a carving knife and, in a moment of hopelessness, thought how easy it would be to slit my wrist and free myself from the pain of that abusive marriage. What saved me was the fact that my daughters needed me (their father was harsh with them and neglected them, too) and I could not, I would not, leave them with HIM.
But that night I prayed for iron to enter my soul. But I did not call out to the patriarchal Father God of Christianity. I prayed to someone, somewhere, who would truly understand my plight; someone who would hear me and help me and my children to be free. The next morning, I experienced what is called a ”lightbulb moment”: I finally understood that my ex’s abusive treatment was not my fault. I didn’t need to feel guilty about a damned thing. I had bent over backwards to make him happy and nothing I ever did was good enough. So, fuck him! He could go to hell without the “handbasket” for all I cared. I was done.
I went upstairs, packed his clothes and personal items and left them by the front door. Later that afternoon, when he came home from work, I kicked his ass out. BEST THING I EVER DID!
Although I went through some struggles, I eventually secured a job as Assistant Editor of my hometown newspaper and slowly got back on my feet. I learned I could make it on my own, and my self-confidence began to grow and blossom.
During that time, I began to research Christianity and Judaism and discovered their patriarchal roots—and agenda. So I left that religion, as well.
A couple of years later, I met and married my second husband, a man of the Lumbee People of Eastern North Carolina. We moved to that southern state and eventually had a small horse farm, where we raised, rescued and rehabilitated Arabian horses. One day, while walking through a patch of woodlands near one of our horse pastures, I felt inspired to create an altar on a large flat-topped boulder, using items from Mama Nature, like pine cones, berries, flowers and stones. Although I knew nothing about the Goddess at that time (other than she was called as “evil”, “demonic” and “blasphemous” in the Bible), I called out to “Mama” and had a long talk with Her.
And She heard me.
Shortly after that, I found Merlin Stone’s book, When God Was a Woman, and I devoured it! From that point on I researched and read all I could on the Divine Feminine and Goddess religions around the world, and I began to talk more and more to the Great Mother (whom I still refer to as “Mama”).
As I grew in my knowledge of the Goddess in Her many wonderful expressions, I knew I had found my Home with Her.
And through Her, I have found a reservoir of Healing from the deep wounds of Patriarchy inflicted upon me through my first husband’s abuse and the Church’s neglect and outright misogyny. Through Her, I discovered my self-worth and learned to love ME—something I had never been able to do under Patriarchy’s woman-shaming teachings.
The Goddess has taught me that I am a totally Sacred Being on my own, apart from any man. She showed me that I don’t need a man to define me or “lead and guide” me. I can do it all quite well on my own!
The road to healing has been long, but I am doing so much better now! And I am immensely grateful to the Goddess for showing up in my life when I needed Her most—even though, at that time, I did not know it was She who answered my prayer.
I turned 67 in March. My second husband (the Love of my Life) has since crossed over, and I have been a single, sovereign woman for eleven years.
Some of my women friends, obviously feeling sorry that I’m “alone”, keep telling me, “Don’t worry: There’s a man out there, waiting for you!” I just smile and reply, “Well, he’s gonna be waiting a helluva LONG time then!”
Truth is, I don’t need another man…and I don’t want another man, I’m totally content with my life as it is. Being a sovereign woman, and a Daughter of the Goddess, is priceless!
[Editor’s Note: This piece is included in She Summons: Why… Goddess Feminism, Activism and Spirituality?” Volume 1 (Mago Books, 2021).]
(Meet Mago Contributor) Sharon Smith