Diario di Snowwhite100, 05 ott 23

Thankfully, the last seven weeks have been the quietest ones for me in a year or two. My husband has not hit me again since August 17th, and there have even been some days that he isn't mad at me. It's so quiet that I wonder if he's partially giving me the silent treatment, but for the first time in my life I don't even care because I am trying to be very quiet not even giving him suggestions or monitoring anything. Today he was mad saying (mistakenly) that I turned off his oxygen machine twice while he was still in bed. I very much want his best, and don't believe he is correct but caught myself from defending and apologized and said I never intended to. I drive him anywhere he wants, but he's driving himself some when he isn't dizzy. He does yard work picking weeds, plays on his computer, watches TV, and porn. I mentioned in my last journal maybe I would tell what happened in this last incident, but I know that will open a can of worms with some FS members who don't know my whole story telling me to leave. I am wound up today after going to dinner last night with our (out of state) son-in-law since this is only the second time we've seen him since our daughter (his wife) died of cancer eleven months ago. Then today I had a counseling session with “Independent Living” a community-based help for seniors and caregivers, and we talked about our daughter and grief. I dare not mention to her “any” abuse or she will report us again to Adult Protective Services which might trigger my husband. That's not an easy thing since I believe that would put me in so much more danger I would have to leave and go into a shelter. I am wondering if I should tell exactly what happened to document it, in case it continues getting worse and I feel I “have to” leave forever and lose our home of 52 years until my husband is dead, in jail, or totally incapacitated. He does not use a cell phone so there are no texts and I can't think of any other witness but my next-door neighbor, and that was only words and he has not “seen” anything. My one friend I talk to is so sick I expect her to die any day now and I am not on any other social media than FatSecret. I will turn 82 this month and only make $530.00 a month, not enough to live on. My very bad back would make almost any job too difficult. You don't really want me to move into my car to live with the more than 75,000 homeless living in Los Angeles County. A shelter isn't going to keep me for the rest of my life. I believe I would not be safe living here in our home if he is triggered, and he doesn't care about a restraining order or going to jail. First I will tell you how I offended my husband, but it was so slight that I believe no normal person would take serious offense, or would at least discuss it, which shows how truly volatile he is and that he is escalating. I tell you this to take responsibility for my part. On August 17th we went out to dinner at an Italian restaurant and he asked for more sauce for his pasta. They brought a little bowl and after spooning most of it on, set the little bowl down with maybe two or three tablespoons of sauce left in it. As we were going to leave I suggested putting the extra sauce onto his left-overs that he was taking home. He said he didn't want to so I suggested if he did, maybe I could cook a little extra pasta at home and it would then make a meal for both of us. Now maybe that was insensitive of me to move into a position of not immediately agreeing with him. I admit that and want to and try to (for safety), but sometimes I forget myself, being so used to trying to be frugal. I had driven my husband around for the afternoon for what he wanted so felt I had gone out of my way for him sufficiently that day, and didn't think fast enough and didn't realize he felt strongly about it. It may have been a little of a hard day for me since it was our son's (who was killed by the drunk driver) Birthday. My husband didn't even know that was the day. I don't remember if the waiter asked me about it or if I just indicated to the waiter that he could just put them together. That's where I made my big mistake. Then I saw my husband's face and knew he was upset. As the waiter walked away I called out to him, but the waiter either didn't hear me or ignored me. No one wants to pack up 2 or 3 tablespoons of something separately. I should have gotten up and ran after the waiter or gone to the kitchen to rectify it, because he brought the container of pasta with the extra sauce in it, against my husband's wishes. My husband did not speak to me on the way home or even after we got home. I went and laid down to rest my painful back from driving. After a half hour or so my husband called me into the kitchen. Without any warning or either of us saying anything, he grabbed me and pushed my head into the kitchen sink and while holding me with one hand he grabbed the leftover pasta with the tomato sauce and started rubbing it hard back and forth across my face. As it would fall into the sink he picked it up with his hand and continued rubbing it hard back and forth across my face. I was so shocked and dismayed I can't remember if he had me by the hair or maybe my neck pushing down on my head so he could be forceful with the rubbing back and forth. He was rubbing so hard the tomato sauce was getting in my eyes burning; the sauce was all down my good clothes, and even my good watch. He rubbed back and forth about three to five times with each handful and he picked it up again about four times as it would drain through his fingers for about 15 to 20 “rub” strokes. He was yelling at me throughout the entire incident that I should not have spoken for him, and to never speak for him again, and that we may kill each other. Then he picked up the aluminum dish the pasta came home in, and with my head still over the sink started hitting me on the head with the dish. The dish was so thin it crinkled with the first hit, but he continued hitting my head with it about 10 or so times, with the dish flattened, it was really his fist hitting my head. I may have had a slight concussion because I was so stunned and disoriented. I finally called out: “Satan, I resist you and your demons in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, my Savior. My husband stopped hitting me. As I stood up he asked me what I said, but I didn't answer. I was covered with tomato sauce and even had pasta in my hair. I wandered into the garage, opened the automatic garage door, and wandered out onto the driveway with my arms outstretched to the sides because I was all wet. He must have also poured some water over my head that was sitting in something in the sink like he had last year. My next-door neighbor was just getting out of his car in the street and I said to him: “My husband hit me.” He said: “I can't help you. Do you want to come into my house?” He had recently had an altercation with my husband and didn't want to start any trouble. I said no to his invitation (he is single now) and slowly started up my driveway to go back into my house because I was afraid my husband would lock me out of our home again like he did last year. Then I might have to either go to a neighbor's or call the police since I didn't have my purse or car keys. If I call the police, I firmly believe I would be in more danger, and would have to go “no contact”, leaving my home, and nearly everything I own. If a victim leaves a severe Narcissist they are in 70% more danger. If you don't believe me watch YouTube “Why domestic violence victims don't leave | Leslie Morgan Steiner” at TED (15 minutes long) with her 4.3M views and her 10,019 comments. Yes, her abuse was much worse, but she was young and could leave and work. I can't. My eyes burned all night from the acid in the tomato sauce, and recently he said he may do it again. Incidentally, my husband has never apologized for any abuse like some abusers do. Before anyone says for me to leave, or call the police, please read my last journal (Sept 16th), and the two comments I left of explanations to others. If you click on my name it will take you to my Profile page and you can click on “Posts” to find all my journals listed with the last one first. If you think I shouldn't have left this journal, I'm sorry, please forgive me. After praying for 3 days this week for the Lord's will, I realize I'd rather die than leave.