I've not written a post for quite some time, mainly because life has got really busy. But I realised recently that the things I would like to write about have no connection with being a survivor of abuse and so I am not sure they belong on this blog.
I'm very glad to say that my life and its focus have moved on from being a survivor of abuse to being a mother, wife, friend and more. I am happy and I have other concerns now which for now I am happy not to write about so publicly.
Thank you for reading my blog. I hope you have found it interesting or useful.
Best wishes,
:-)
Sunday, 23 July 2017
Sunday, 19 February 2017
Memories of what abuse looks like from the inside
Before I begin, I want to make it very clear that I am writing about a previous relationship, not the one I have with my husband now. I don't want anyone worrying about me and whether or not I am all right!
Sometimes I end up thinking (often with no obvious trigger) about what it was like being on the receiving end of emotional abuse for so long. Never mind the physical abuse which resulted in serious injuries; it was the emotional and mental abuse which had (and still has) much more far reaching consequences.
By being constantly questioned and re-questioned on my every action, decision, and possible motive, I started to doubt my own ability to cope. I began to think of myself as someone who was not capable of making my own decisions. I thought it was my job to keep him happy, and that our relationship was just going through a bad patch.
He did not get on with my family and made it clear that he did not like them. I thought they needed more time to get to know each other, but this did not work as he was already certain that he did not want to like them. He had very few friends (and I never met any of them, which didn't seem odd at the time, but really does now), and he made me feel bad about seeing mine - but not by saying he felt left out, but by saying things like how he worried about me going out at night, he didn't like me having male friends , he felt insecure if he didn't know where I was and what time I would be back. If I ever questioned any of this, I was given various excuses such as his family was not close and they didn't like him (he made out that he was the black sheep of the family, which may or may not have been true. I actually got on really well with them). Other excuses included his belief that he was addicted to smoking cannabis, which he said caused mood swings and paranoia, and that his father left when he was tiny (although he had a stepdad from quite a young age, so I never did quite get my head around this one)... It was so confusing and I really did care about him and thought if I gave him consistent support and help then maybe he would give up the cannabis as he claimed he was doing and he would see what a committed relationship looked like. I was wrong.
My memory of this time is very muddled and blurred: having since come out the other side of post-traumatic stress disorder as a result of this relationship and the violence that I suffered, as well as the mental abuse, I have difficulty recalling a lot of it except when it pops into my head unbidden. But I do remember some important things: I was gradually and systematically cut off from my family and friends. I was gradually forced to hand over my savings and my earnings to keep us afloat and living in our rented house. I was deprived of food and sleep, and was made to fear the consequences of telling anyone what was going on at home. I was made to feel such terrible, terrible shame for being in a relationship with someone who not only mistreated but despised me and wanted me for nothing but cooking, money and sex, and hated having me around the rest of the time. I was made to believe that I was unable to make decisions without help, and that I would never cope alone.
The recovery from this took a long time. I felt so alone, I truly believed that there was nobody I knew who could possibly understand what I had gone through. I still felt ashamed even though I knew none of it was my fault. Telling my friends what had happened once I came back to live with my parents was incredibly hard. I had to cope not only with reliving the experiences as I retold my story each time, but also with the emotional reactions of everyone around me as they became upset at what they were hearing. I felt guilt upon guilt for what I was putting everyone through as a result of having been abused and trying to tell everyone what had happened. Add to this the effects of PTSD: flashbacks (reliving the experiences), horrific nightmares, panic attacks (particularly when I was alone in the house), and general agoraphobia for a long time afterwards, and you can see why it was so hard.
What made the real difference though, was having family and friends around me who were keen to support me any way they could, even though they didn't always understand how I felt or what it had been like. I was numb and in shock for a long time but gradually I started to get my old self back, or bits of it at least. Added to this was the help I had from local domestic abuse services and the police during the court case. I have written in other articles about the help I received and what I thought of it so I won't repeat myself here.
Finally I want to say that there's a verse in the Bible that says that God helps us and then brings us alongside others who are in trouble so that we can comfort them with the help that we ourselves received. If there is anyone out there reading this who is feeling alone and that they are the only ones to have suffered in an abusive relationship, please know you are not alone. There are many sources of support out there and you are never alone.... God bless you.
Sometimes I end up thinking (often with no obvious trigger) about what it was like being on the receiving end of emotional abuse for so long. Never mind the physical abuse which resulted in serious injuries; it was the emotional and mental abuse which had (and still has) much more far reaching consequences.
By being constantly questioned and re-questioned on my every action, decision, and possible motive, I started to doubt my own ability to cope. I began to think of myself as someone who was not capable of making my own decisions. I thought it was my job to keep him happy, and that our relationship was just going through a bad patch.
He did not get on with my family and made it clear that he did not like them. I thought they needed more time to get to know each other, but this did not work as he was already certain that he did not want to like them. He had very few friends (and I never met any of them, which didn't seem odd at the time, but really does now), and he made me feel bad about seeing mine - but not by saying he felt left out, but by saying things like how he worried about me going out at night, he didn't like me having male friends , he felt insecure if he didn't know where I was and what time I would be back. If I ever questioned any of this, I was given various excuses such as his family was not close and they didn't like him (he made out that he was the black sheep of the family, which may or may not have been true. I actually got on really well with them). Other excuses included his belief that he was addicted to smoking cannabis, which he said caused mood swings and paranoia, and that his father left when he was tiny (although he had a stepdad from quite a young age, so I never did quite get my head around this one)... It was so confusing and I really did care about him and thought if I gave him consistent support and help then maybe he would give up the cannabis as he claimed he was doing and he would see what a committed relationship looked like. I was wrong.
My memory of this time is very muddled and blurred: having since come out the other side of post-traumatic stress disorder as a result of this relationship and the violence that I suffered, as well as the mental abuse, I have difficulty recalling a lot of it except when it pops into my head unbidden. But I do remember some important things: I was gradually and systematically cut off from my family and friends. I was gradually forced to hand over my savings and my earnings to keep us afloat and living in our rented house. I was deprived of food and sleep, and was made to fear the consequences of telling anyone what was going on at home. I was made to feel such terrible, terrible shame for being in a relationship with someone who not only mistreated but despised me and wanted me for nothing but cooking, money and sex, and hated having me around the rest of the time. I was made to believe that I was unable to make decisions without help, and that I would never cope alone.
The recovery from this took a long time. I felt so alone, I truly believed that there was nobody I knew who could possibly understand what I had gone through. I still felt ashamed even though I knew none of it was my fault. Telling my friends what had happened once I came back to live with my parents was incredibly hard. I had to cope not only with reliving the experiences as I retold my story each time, but also with the emotional reactions of everyone around me as they became upset at what they were hearing. I felt guilt upon guilt for what I was putting everyone through as a result of having been abused and trying to tell everyone what had happened. Add to this the effects of PTSD: flashbacks (reliving the experiences), horrific nightmares, panic attacks (particularly when I was alone in the house), and general agoraphobia for a long time afterwards, and you can see why it was so hard.
What made the real difference though, was having family and friends around me who were keen to support me any way they could, even though they didn't always understand how I felt or what it had been like. I was numb and in shock for a long time but gradually I started to get my old self back, or bits of it at least. Added to this was the help I had from local domestic abuse services and the police during the court case. I have written in other articles about the help I received and what I thought of it so I won't repeat myself here.
Finally I want to say that there's a verse in the Bible that says that God helps us and then brings us alongside others who are in trouble so that we can comfort them with the help that we ourselves received. If there is anyone out there reading this who is feeling alone and that they are the only ones to have suffered in an abusive relationship, please know you are not alone. There are many sources of support out there and you are never alone.... God bless you.
Thursday, 19 January 2017
Musings on justice, forgiveness, and moving on
I have been asked to take part in a study looking at how victims of abuse view justice. I won't be taking part until next week, so I'm not entirely sure what it will involve yet, but it has got me pondering what I really think.
This year it will be nine years since I left my abusive ex, and yet sometimes it still feels like yesterday. When I close my eyes at night I find myself transported back to the house where the physical assaults happened, and find myself remembering every room. Somehow that house and how it was when I left it has been preserved in my head and I can't seem to make it go away for good.
I am fortunate in that I am unable to easily recall faces. I can recognise people when I see them, but to remember what my family or even my husband and daughter look like, I have to remember a photo rather than the real thing. I have never been able to picture people from a description (which as a keen reader is a very frustrating problem), and so I am now pretty much unable to remember what my ex looked like unless I try very hard to recall him. Which for obvious reasons, I don't do. It's one unexpected blessing from the way my memory works.
Thinking about next week and justice, I am not sure what I think. Of course, the fact that my ex was given a custodial sentence was extremely good, and more justice than many victims of domestic abuse receive. However, I am convinced that until the perpetrator fully acknowledges the severity of their crime, there can never fully be justice for a victim. If the perpetrator is in denial about what effect it had or how seriously the criminal justice system sees the crime, then no amount of punishment is going to make them turn their life around. I think that justice and repentance have to go together to be effective. So for many survivors like me, true justice will never take place as the perpetrators have to fully accept that their behaviour is wrong. Moreover, if this is the case, then perpetrators will go on to behave that way in future relationships as well, and thus create more victims in their wake.
On the other hand, my faith in Jesus tells me that whatever the situation in this lifetime, there will be judgement when we die; so whether or not I consider the human justice meted out to my abuser is sufficient, in the end he will face true justice. This sometimes feels like small consolation, particularly when I am reminded of the details of what he did, but it does mean that I can be assured that it is out of my hands and not my responsibility.
Allowing God to take it out of my hands is vital in order for me to move on. It enables me to let go of the anger and hate that I felt towards my ex, and in fact enables me to pity him. Not to let him off the hook or deny the severity of what he did to me - I have the mental and physical scars to prove it - but it takes a pretty poor sense of self worth for someone to have to force respect and fear from another person just to prove that they are more powerful and perhaps to enhance their self-image... I have taken steps towards forgiving him, although on my worst days I have to remind myself of this fact. I know that this means that if he ever truly found Jesus, my ex would be forgiven all his sins, but this isn't my decision and so I need to let go. By letting go, there is at least a chance that my life will not permanently be defined by the abusive relationship I had... that's the theory at least, although at times the memories encroach on the life I am now living. But look at where I am now: I have a loving husband, a wonderful (if occasionally challenging!) toddler, and a job I enjoy. I have learned that I am a strong and determined person, and I am beginning to learn to speak up when I think something is not right. I rediscovered my faith in God and my life in the last nine years has moved on unrecognisably.
So what do I think of justice? Well, I think that we can only do so much but we have to do something, even if our judgement and justice system is flawed. We cannot change the heart of someone who does not want to be changed (and neither can God either), but if they truly want change then we should help them to achieve that. Only God knows the true state of a person's heart and only he can transform someone from the inside, but if there are ways that we can be used in that process then we should follow his prompting to enable it to happen.
This year it will be nine years since I left my abusive ex, and yet sometimes it still feels like yesterday. When I close my eyes at night I find myself transported back to the house where the physical assaults happened, and find myself remembering every room. Somehow that house and how it was when I left it has been preserved in my head and I can't seem to make it go away for good.
I am fortunate in that I am unable to easily recall faces. I can recognise people when I see them, but to remember what my family or even my husband and daughter look like, I have to remember a photo rather than the real thing. I have never been able to picture people from a description (which as a keen reader is a very frustrating problem), and so I am now pretty much unable to remember what my ex looked like unless I try very hard to recall him. Which for obvious reasons, I don't do. It's one unexpected blessing from the way my memory works.
Thinking about next week and justice, I am not sure what I think. Of course, the fact that my ex was given a custodial sentence was extremely good, and more justice than many victims of domestic abuse receive. However, I am convinced that until the perpetrator fully acknowledges the severity of their crime, there can never fully be justice for a victim. If the perpetrator is in denial about what effect it had or how seriously the criminal justice system sees the crime, then no amount of punishment is going to make them turn their life around. I think that justice and repentance have to go together to be effective. So for many survivors like me, true justice will never take place as the perpetrators have to fully accept that their behaviour is wrong. Moreover, if this is the case, then perpetrators will go on to behave that way in future relationships as well, and thus create more victims in their wake.
On the other hand, my faith in Jesus tells me that whatever the situation in this lifetime, there will be judgement when we die; so whether or not I consider the human justice meted out to my abuser is sufficient, in the end he will face true justice. This sometimes feels like small consolation, particularly when I am reminded of the details of what he did, but it does mean that I can be assured that it is out of my hands and not my responsibility.
Allowing God to take it out of my hands is vital in order for me to move on. It enables me to let go of the anger and hate that I felt towards my ex, and in fact enables me to pity him. Not to let him off the hook or deny the severity of what he did to me - I have the mental and physical scars to prove it - but it takes a pretty poor sense of self worth for someone to have to force respect and fear from another person just to prove that they are more powerful and perhaps to enhance their self-image... I have taken steps towards forgiving him, although on my worst days I have to remind myself of this fact. I know that this means that if he ever truly found Jesus, my ex would be forgiven all his sins, but this isn't my decision and so I need to let go. By letting go, there is at least a chance that my life will not permanently be defined by the abusive relationship I had... that's the theory at least, although at times the memories encroach on the life I am now living. But look at where I am now: I have a loving husband, a wonderful (if occasionally challenging!) toddler, and a job I enjoy. I have learned that I am a strong and determined person, and I am beginning to learn to speak up when I think something is not right. I rediscovered my faith in God and my life in the last nine years has moved on unrecognisably.
So what do I think of justice? Well, I think that we can only do so much but we have to do something, even if our judgement and justice system is flawed. We cannot change the heart of someone who does not want to be changed (and neither can God either), but if they truly want change then we should help them to achieve that. Only God knows the true state of a person's heart and only he can transform someone from the inside, but if there are ways that we can be used in that process then we should follow his prompting to enable it to happen.
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