Yesterday, I Cried_ Celebrating the Lessons of Living and Loving - Iyanla Vanzant [80]
Being a victim was the unconscious motivation for most, if not all, of Rhonda’s actions. It was the thing that motivated Rhonda to do and say things she knew would have a violent impact and a violent outcome. Violence, abuse, being hurt had become a pattern in her life. Most people are always loyal to their patterns whether they are conscious of them or not. Most people will behave in ways that will create what they believe will happen. Rhonda was no different. She knew if John had even the slightest clue that she was messing around, he would beat the living daylights out of her. She knew it because he had threatened her enough, accused her enough times, and acted out his beliefs, without cause, for long enough for her to know what was going to happen. John was going to beat her. Why had she done it? Why had she continued a relationship with another man, allowing herself to believe that John would not find out, and knowing what would happen if John did find out? When a person is in the midst of acting out a pattern that they have come to believe is true as a result of their experiences, they do not think. They act out. They reap the expected outcome.
Rhonda knew that John did not believe her, because he never believed her. Rhonda knew that even if John did believe her, the fact that she had been missing in action for a number of hours meant that he was going to hurt her. And, she was absolutely right.
John let Rhonda get into the house and out of her coat. He spared her the ordeal of questioning her for hours, challenging every response she offered in her own defense. John did not make Rhonda retell her story over and over, giving him the opportunity to catch her in a lie by pointing out to her the events that did not make sense. He did not threaten her, nor did he rant and rave for an hour, postponing the inevitable. That would have been his normal course of action. Today was different. Instead, once Rhonda had taken off her coat, John pulled her to him and began to choke her. He never said a word. Silently, with rage in his eyes, he squeezed her throat until she could feel the life slowly draining out of her body. When her knees buckled, causing her to fall, John became so angry that he punched her in the face. When Rhonda regained consciousness, she could not see. John had beaten both of Rhonda’s eyes shut. He was now straddling her on the floor, choking her again. She could hardly breathe.
As suddenly as the episode had started, it stopped. John looked as if he were frozen in time. Rhonda thought she was dying. Instead, John started gasping for air. When he clutched his chest, Rhonda knew he was having a violent asthma attack. John fell against the wall, slowly sliding down until the full weight of his body was on top of Rhonda. Rhonda remained absolutely still, listening to John wheeze while she got her bearings. Slowly, Rhonda slid from beneath him and crawled away, trying to catch her own breath. She stood up, leaning against the wall for support, and stared at John. He was holding his chest, and his eyes were rolling around in his head. He looked pitiful, just like her brother always looked when it was time to go to the hospital. John kept trying to talk, to tell her something. She had never worked out the hand signals with John the way she had done with Ray. But Rhonda knew what he was trying to say. She did not move. A frightened, angry voice in the back of her mind said, “Let him die! Let him lie there and die!” It had taken her a moment to realize that this was not her brother. This was a man who