Ever since we started dating, Thomas exerted a lot of control over my behavior.
If I looked at or talked to a brother, even if it was for a mission under instructions from the church leader, he would become furious, claiming that we were flirting.
If I went to meet with a female friend, even if it was just to preach to them, he would angrily text and call me over and over, warning me not to stay too long.
He had a temper and our disagreements often turned physical. He would verbally and emotionally abuse me, calling me weird and demon possessed. He’d say no one could get along with me or understand anything I said, which made me feel isolated.
There were times when it got so bad that I resorted to asking a deaconess to mediate between us—something that was hard for me to do, being a generally private person who didn’t talk about ugly matters at home.
When I ran away to my mom’s house, I wanted space from him just as much as from the church. Things weren’t good in our marriage and I didn’t want to see or talk to him.
He blasted my phone with back-to-back calls, which I didn’t answer. When he somehow found out that I had gone to my parents’ house (probably by calling them), he drove the five hours to follow me.
I wouldn’t talk to him and my parents put him up in the guest bedroom. Eventually he left when it was clear I was not going to entertain his company.
Although I had relocated, my daughter and I still went to the nearby office church in Maryland to attend services. And after a week, I drove back to New York to return to the main church, thinking I had recovered my spirits enough for a second wind.
I wouldn’t say that Thomas physically abused me, because that’s a serious claim, although I blocked out a lot of memories of our fights so honestly I don’t remember what happened. I do remember there was a time when I dislocated my shoulder during an argument and had to go to the hospital to get it fixed. It was weird how nice he acted at the hospital after being so nasty to me at home, to avoid attracting suspicion and being blamed for the dislocated shoulder.
Although all of this was unrelated to the church, it was a big part of why I was suffering in New York and wanted to run away, so I’m including it in my story. Though we didn’t fight as much after I had my child, there were still problems and it was worse in other ways.
Also, just as a side note—I heard from a leader that marriages outside of the church’s auspices inevitably led to discord and unhappiness. I felt like what I was experiencing was just a fulfillment of that, a punishment for foolishly doing what I wanted.