You hear mention of domestic abuse frequently. Perhaps we all think we know what it is and that we’d be aware if it was happening to us.
But, do you know what? We often don’t.
A friend asked me once if I thought my ex was abusive. I think she asked this not long after we’d split, or perhaps even when we were still together. I considered it, then gave a one word answer. No.
I lied. Not intentionally and not knowingly, but I did.
It took me a good year or two of experiencing more abuse after our separation, before I realised its form and started to name it hesitantly.
It wasn’t a sudden realisation, but a slow chip, chip, chipping away at my brain, as I realised the presence of police in my home, the referrals from professionals to domestic abuse organisations and feelings of utter desperation and complete confusion when counsellors asked me why I hadn’t left him (earlier) were not “normal” experiences with your so called partner/”co-parent”.
Slowly, I tentatively tried out the words in my mouth. These were not words anyone ever wants to utter, but giving them life was necessary if I was to regain my own.
Abuse.
Manipulation.
Gaslighting.
There I said it.
I’m still scared to say it all these years later. Still worried he will see my words, call out my exaggeration. Say it was all my fault. After all, these were the words I heard repeatedly. It was only years into experiencing it that I ever heard the word abuse mentioned. Whilst odd it should have been strangers who saw things for what they were, the validation of their words ushered in a sense of relief. Perhaps I wasn’t crazy after all.
Prior to my relationship with him, I guess I thought that when a relationship ended, so would any associated abuse. Perhaps sometimes it does. But only for a few. In reality, leaving a relationship doesn’t secure your mental or physical safety from abusers, the death rates of women due to violence of an (ex/)partner reflect that.
Even in less extreme cases where physical lives are not in danger, when you have a child with someone, the relationship never fully ends. Herein lies the problem: if the relationship continues, so does the abuse.
Somehow it was the continuation of his abuse which ultimately gave me the proof I needed to realise it wasn’t me (as he always claimed). It was him (as I’d never dared believe). Because our relationship had evolved to become him trying to control and undermine me, our separation didn’t end that for him. If anything it exacerbated it. Conversely, for me the arguments and disappointments lost all meaning once we were done.
Over the years, since acknowledging his attacks – emotional and mental rather than physical in my case – as being exactly that, I’ve learned to block them. Now I know how to duck when they are launched in my direction. It’s not been easy, far from it. We separated in the summer of 2014 and it was only in the summer of 2018 that I really managed to claw my way out from under him. In that time I’d divorced him, changed jobs, moved home and got pregnant solo. Yet still it took four years to truly “escape”. Don’t take my word for it. A friend, who’s pretty observant, and my family support worker of the time, noted it too. Whether it was a lucky conincidence or not, the stronger I got at dealing with his attacks, the less he launched them too*.
I was lucky to have an excellent family support worker who supported me in this process towards the end. It was a process I’d been undertaking alone for years. But, with little understanding of what was happening to me, let alone how to extricate myself from it, I couldn’t quite finish the barricades. With her support though, I could. As someone who was experiencing abuse, everytime someone validated my experiences and acknowledged the abuse it helped strengthen my ability to protect myself. Even until last summer I struggled to see it fully for what it was.
Now, whilst I’m not immune to the impact of his attacks, it’s rare for it to be more than fleeting (and in all honesty they are few and far between now). I’m in a much better place. Seeing him triggers an odd sensation, but rarely much more. My main thoughts are how this man who seems so weak, had such power over me. Other times I can’t believe where the love and gentle soul I once knew went, was it all a dream? And yet other times I wonder what on earth I was doing with the idiot – was it a long term dream gone wrong?
Abuse is so complex and so unique to each situation. I’ve hardly touched on the intricacies of it here. If you are concerned for your own well being or safety because of the actions of another, please do seek help.
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*I am in no way implying it’s the role of the victim or survivor of domestic abuse to build these barriers or that indeed it’s always possible to do so. I’m lucky my ability to build these walls conincided with him becoming less interested in my life.