I was in a 5 year relationship where I was experiencing domestic violence. I was embarrassed this was happening to me, of the holes he put in our walls, how he screamed and belittled me, and the hands he laid on me. I hid it. I disappeared off social media and stopped hanging around friends. I went through this quietly while my father was passing away in a hospice, missing out on time I could have spent with him due to the piling depression. And while grieving his death. I felt I had no way out, my main support had passed and I was trapped.
On my father’s one year death anniversary I attempted suicide by overdosing on sleeping pills — but I never told anyone. Richard wasn’t concerned so in my mind, why would anyone else be? Abuse has a way of brainwashing you into believing you’re as useless and unimportant as your abuser tells you.
Any of my struggles that got out were met by the military telling him to “control me”. All while he threw our dog, shoved me into walls, punched me in the face (on Christmas, at that). But it was me that needed to be controlled.
Once I would be committed to leaving, the usual “I’ll change, I’ll get therapy, I love you” all came out — and he would change, but only for a little bit. Therapy would confirm anger issues and conclusive lying, but never head anything.
I’d still be trapped in that situation if I hadn’t met my current boyfriend, Sean. He literally saved me, took me out of that hell, and moved me across the country to be with him. I had to unlearn not to be in fight or flight constantly, slowly allowing myself to trust him and his family, and have spent the past two years healing. I live in a home with no holes in the walls, that I don’t have to lock myself in the bathroom to feel safe and cry, where I am spoken to gently, and loved completely.
Two years later I finally felt it was time to speak up and own my trauma, openly telling my story. I didn’t name names when I confided in my personal FB of friends and family. Most were shocked but reached out to show support. My ex decided to stalk my FB and get upset about this, sending some female friends after me.
“He’s a good guy.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Hearing these things after it took me years to even have the courage to speak my truth hurt so much, and coming from women at that. He’s a classic narcissist so charisma is to play, along with the compulsive lying. Though it didn’t make it anything less traumatizing.
When approached by others about what he had done, he continued the sickly familiar form of gaslighting, going from claiming it wasn’t his intention, it was because he read what I wrote, to blaming his friends. Nothing has ever been, or ever will be, his fault in his eyes.. but he and I both know what he did.
Instead of retreating and blaming myself like I would have in the past, I doubled down. I got louder. I took up space and I spread my truth. Because I learned my self worth, I reclaimed myself, and I won’t ever let him dim my light again.
So here I am telling my story, of my trauma and my survival to let others know that you’re not alone, I hear you — I believe you.
