I Know That I'm The Abuser In This House And This Is How I Handle It

Anonymous Anonymous in Your Story on 13 May, 2020

I'm a millennial inmate for the 2020 lockdown and I'm indoors with what you could fairly call a #BasicBitch. You know the type- a domestic engineer who chose the housewife life and settled for a life of breeding. My derogatory language should tell you that I'm a class-A abuser. There are no words to mince. It's who I am. But what makes me a good human being is I can find an outlet to my anger by writing and I don't have to damage my little broken breeder. 

Oh, that's right. She can't even make the babies right. And she thinks the adults in here are so incapacitated that their house needs keeping and they need to be fed and bathed at regular intervals. She's the type to monitor geriatric prescriptions even though the adult has fully functioning vision and can read their medicine schedule by themselves. The psychological calm she derives out of taking care of us is only hers to keep. I had a life before her when I learned to fend for myself. I don't have to sign up for a lifetime of listening to her rant about how much she overworks in the house when there is clearly no need to. 

But I can't exactly bugger off wherever I want to and leave her the hell alone. Lockdown, remember?
And being in the red-zone is its own misery. 

Now, I can't lose my temper with her for obvious reasons. I can't go where I can find my peace. And I have run out of ways to put up with her. You can deal with nasty. The whole world prepares you for evil, ugly, disappointing people. But how on earth do you deal with basic bitches? 

Now, this is where my abusive instincts flare-up. I think of little strategies to gaslight her. I think of ways I can potentially make her lose her temper and say, "Why are you yelling? Itni choti si baat hai." It would be so easy to paint her as the lunatic. Unhinged. Unproductive. Lacklustre. 

It would be so gratifying to say one day, "You know, you're intelligent, but you never put it to use. If you even work part-time- of course, not for the money, but to give yourself variety. It will do wonders to your mental health." That way you can fake concern and "constructively" suggest that she's a no-good lunatic. 


Oh, I'm not at all surprised. I'm not surprised that women live with monsters. I'm not surprised that there are abusers and those people who are only too decent to notice their subtlety. But what I don't believe at all- not one bit- is that the abuser doesn't know what they're doing. Clearly, we do. We know full well how we're inflicting damage on you. We know how much to bend you so it hurts, but we know when to stop so you won't break. We can keep you functionally inept. To say otherwise would be to insult our own intelligence. If we were that stupid, we would just beat you up no?

The physicality of abuse is too obvious. And we're not the basic bitches, you are. We'll never get caught. People will tell you over and over again that your life is messed up, and you still won't get the extent of the damage we've created. 

I'm not ashamed of my anger and how it manifests itself in my thoughts- I'm human. 

But I'm never going to act on it because I'm a civilized human being. I'm also capable of empathy, communication, and forgiveness. I can talk things out with you whether you're basic or not. If I can prevent myself from driving after drinking, I can prevent myself from acting out of anger. 

If I can tell the difference and own up to my shittiness, any monkey can. Stop cutting slack to your abuser. They know better. 
Author's Note:

The lady I'm talking about is not my wife. Thank God. But that should also tell you that abuse goes beyond the husband. I will always hate her from the bottom of my heart and I can still treat her with basic decency that a human being is owed. Not all relationships are perfect and I hope you are relieved to know that some of us have a tight leash on the monsters inside us. 

Also, since I never said I'm a man, I want to know how your brush paints stereotypes.