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.