When I was less afraid to die than disappoint him

Journal of an abuse survivor

Humans are hard wired for survival. So, when I say I was less afraid of death than disappointing him, it should tell you all you need to know about his approval.

In my world, his approval was life and death. There was a greater threat to me than dying, and that was the threat of his wrath. Was I ever afraid that he would kill me? Not really. But was I afraid that he could end my life in other ways if he chose to? Absolutely. And he had made it crystal clear that he could find ways to bring me immeasurable pain if I stepped out of line, and he wasn’t afraid to take the kill shot.

The Realisation

The day it dawned on me that I was more afraid of him than death was when I was in a near car accident. He and I were in the midst of a cyclical crisis point. Every 4-6 months, there would be something that caused an emotional explosion - a volcanic eruption inside of him - and I would do the dance of trying to avoid getting burned by his molten aggression and the ashes of his silence. On this occasion, he was deeply upset with me after I had questioned at the supermarket till who was going to buy a crate of beer for his friends coming to visit. My bank card operated on an allowance system. He put a fixed amount of money into my account each month and I covered food payments and certain bills. The budget on my card was tight. His bank card had a larger sum and an unspoken amount of “free cash” which could cover extra costs. This was the logic behind my question, however, what I had not foreseen was the level of disrespect he would feel by me directing it towards him. I was now on day three of the silent treatment.