It's like being a battered wife(by guest blogger Dawn Summers)

Oh, the tribulations of being a liberal Democrat.
First, my party jumped feet first and arms flailing into the Patriot Act.
It hurt.
But very quickly they apologized.
"We're so sorry, Dawn. We were angry and scared. You know, we would never intentionally hurt you. Please, forgive us."
Ok, I said.
I covered the black eye with makeup and explained that I was just clumsy and fell down some stairs, whenever anyone asked about the swollen lip and cracked ribs.
Then came the parroting of the old canard that marriage should just be between a man and a woman. But this time, they weren't sorry. Instead, they sneered and dared me to leave.
"Where are you going to go, huh? You think anyone else even wants you?" They gulped down the last of the whiskey and laughed spitefully.
It was true.
I had to make this relationship work. Think about the early days when we were dating and Jimmy Carter believed we could change the world through good example.
Anyway, it's probably just stress, I told myself. After the election, everything will be better.
But I was wrong.
Days after the results came in, they were back pedaling on abortion rights and first amendment freedoms.
"It's your fault we lost, you stupid cow!" They said slamming the door on their way out, leaving me in a heap in the hallway asking them to come back.
"Don't go!! We can work this out. Please!" I cried, begging them not to leave me.
But it was too late.
In just the last few months they've confirmed Alberto Gonzales and approved the practice of withdrawing funds from universities that protest the military's exclusion of openly gay candidates.
Now, they are cheating on me publically.
Getting in bed with the likes of Rick Santorum, no less.
We live in silence now.
I know where they've been, not that they even care enough to lie to me anymore.
Eventually, I'll pack my things in the middle of the night, maybe when they're out at church burning violent videogames and throwing rocks at gay people, and move back to my mother's house.