When we get into a relationship, it’s not with the thought that things are going to go wrong but rather, with the hope that things are going to go right. In some cases, we are correct in our assessment of things but in others, we may fall short of the mark.
Unfortunately, there are many people who live in abusive relationships and these can be very difficult. It can lead to both physical and mental problems that can haunt us for many years.
The problem is, when most people think about abusive relationships, they automatically think about one where physical abuse is involved. In most cases, the abuser does not ever leave a mark that can be seen by others. They abuse the individual emotionally and mentally, leading to scars that are internal.
That was the case with the woman in the following story. She told her story about how she was in such a relationship and didn’t even know it for many years.
It was a Tuesday night when I phoned my parents at 1am whimpering, ‘Mum, I have a really bad feeling about my marriage…’
That Friday, at my request, my parents pulled up with their pick-up truck and helped me flee to their house.
Packing up that day was the easy part. The scariest part was sitting on the couch after my then-husband went to bed, terrified my gut feeling was true – I had been in an abusive relationship for 13 years without knowing it.
The man who was my first boyfriend, my first love and who I thought was my best friend – was my abuser and the reason for so many torturous years with extreme anxiety.
My home, which was supposed to be my safe place, was not feeling safe anymore.
Weird things started happening. My shoe rack was leaning against a wall near the bedroom because I was replacing it. While I was sitting on the couch that night, I heard a loud crash near the front door. My shoe rack was in pieces on the floor.
When I asked what happened, my ex denied even touching it.
The previous day, my jewelry box had been emptied all over the bed. And he started hitting the walls and slamming cupboard doors. A voice in my head started playing on repeat, “You’re going to die here”.
I was petrified. The sudden shift in perspective was so startling, the walls of my apartment rippled like a wave in front of my eyes like I was seeing it for the first time.
I started asking questions like, “Why don’t I have credit cards in my name?”, “Why do I feel I have to ask permission to buy something when I earn my own salary?” and “why do I feel better alone, but panicked when he starts coming home from work?”
I asked myself questions for hours that night, each time the answer hit me like a punch in the stomach.
Each question peeled off another layer of fog I had been living in for 13 years. After the shock finally wore off, the only person I wanted to talk to was my mum, so I called her at 1 am.
The next day, my parents came over while he was at work.
I had never told anyone about what living with my ex was really like – my muscles started to uncontrollably clench and I had trouble breathing. It caused a full-body panic attack.
How could I not know I was in an abusive marriage? It was not obvious because it was not physically abusive. Before this, abuse was done through emotional, mental, and financial control.
I felt worthless like I could never do anything right. I apologised for everything. If there was a silence, I just said, “I’m sorry,” as if I thought my mere presence was upsetting others.
I had emotional breakdowns over the smallest things. I heard voices in my head, telling me how pathetic and useless I was.
I was physically sick all the time. Regular colds, upset stomachs, UTI’s and throat infections to the point where I almost got my tonsils removed.
Even if the abuse isn’t physical, it is domestic violence because it destroys the ability for a person to function. Most of the time I was made to believe I was the problem.
I wish I had known the extent of psychological damage before I left.
I had never spoken about being abused, so only my parents and one friend seemed to believe me. I was confused, traumatized, and completely dysfunctional in normal life
My ability to communicate had deteriorated. I was also paranoid, as the feeling of danger from living with my ex never went away.
I couldn’t sit with myself; the emotional pain and hollowness was excruciating.
I consider myself lucky to come back and heal from such a dark place. If it wasn’t for my parent’s unconditional love, support, and advocacy, I probably wouldn’t be here telling this story.
It’s taken three years to recover after 13 years of domestic violence, which included loss of income, leaving my home and losing my friends.
In the end, I feel grateful for the lessons I learned about abusive behavior, for my new strength and resiliency, and for repairing the relationship with my family.
Mostly, I am grateful for a second chance at life that is now filled with real joy and peacefulness.