My T had me do some homework that ended up being really shocking. This was about a year ago or so. My T had me make my family tree. And for each relative listed put an x by there name if they were sexually abused or if they sexually abused someone else. That list became so scary. My mom most likely was told how terrible men were and how they abuse women and to be careful. My uncle did bad sexual things to me. My great uncle had two children by insest. My other great uncle had a son who raped his step daughter and got her pregnant. My other great uncle his son ..... never mind I can't even begin to go into the gross details. But needless to say, there were things that should have never happened. And it was passed down from generation to generation. All of my grandma's nephews were child sexual abusers. What happened to them to make them think that this was ok to do. Makes me wonder what my grandma likely endured or maybe even my mom. There is no wonder I have the past history that I do. Now that I know that history I need to keep my daughter safe. Thank goodness most of these men are dead or have no access to my daughter or me. Though there are a few living relatives who we should watch out for and I know who they are and so does my H and my parents.

You are right it is empowering to speak the truth.

My husbands response is more of a "here we go again" or "oh man more crap to get in the way." Usually when I say something about my past I get the big ole "That was then and this is now" speech. Sometimes I get the "WELL I DIDN'T DO THAT TO YOU SO QUIT TREATING ME LIKE I AM THE ONE WHO DID IT." I just want him to acknowledge what I have been threw. Maybe a nice that "that explains a lot" or "I'm sorry you had to suffer threw that" would be nice.

You mention the freedom of speaking it oput loud and how freeing that is. On one of the other sites I belong to, aftersilence, someone there told me something that helped me so much and still sticks in my mind which is surprising since so few things stick in my mind. She said write your story and put it here. You only have to say it once. But go back later and check and see how many people have read what you posted. A little piece of your story now lives with them, for they now know. And if they know and have taken a piece of your story with them, then that is less of your story for you to carry. That is so true. When I write my story once and 300 people have read it, then 300 people know my story and that much less of the hell lives within me. That is why I have put my story (stories) here on this site as well. I have also learned that talking about it just like you and I are right now, helps give our feelings words. We are no longer being held hostage by our own words and feelings. Just by simply sharing a little of our story it helps others realize they are not alone. That is where true healing begins.

We are very similar. My H and your H sound similar as well. I know my H has OCD, he more then likely has asperger's since my son has it and it is hereditary and a predominately male thing. The T thinks there is a chance that my H has a personality disorder as well, borderline maybe, narcissistic maybe. He is not interested in finding out and we can't really afford to find out financially. Even if we did the label wouldn't really change things.

Much like you I have become hypersensitive to my H. I can hear his truck coming down the road and I panic, so do my kids. I can tell by the shuffle of his feet whether he is in a good mood or not. I can tell form his footsteps weather it is him walking or one of my boys. The look on his face that I can see threw the window before he walks in the house speaks volumes. I know to stay out of his way or that it is ok to greet him. I to scan the room for things that will piss him off. A smudge on the glass top stove, a crumb on the counter, a cup out of place, the blinds are not closed, there is a coat hanging where it doesn't belong, why is the mail on the desk not inside it. I start panicking about an hour before he comes home. I stand at the door way and pretend to be him and look around and try to see what he might see and is gonna freak out about. When he does walk in the door I am already filled with panic and dread most of the time and that jsut sets the scene for disaster. If he doesn't go after me, then it is one of the kids. And I do what I can to "save" them even if that means turning his anger from them to me.