Abuse comes in many forms, for me, it was both psychological and physical abuse that my ex put me through. Today I’d like to talk about what is left behind after abuse, and what it is like trying to move forward from something that is so hateful.
Thankfully most of those scares faded, I only have one physical scar that has remained with me to this day, it’s from a cigarette butt that he decided to put out on me during one of his outbursts.
I don’t get to see it very often but when I do I am taken back to that night, to his face which sparkled with glee while he did it, and I always feel shame when I see it.
Shame that I couldn’t do anything to stop him, shame that I hadn’t left him before then, and blame that it was all my fault.
This one runs deep, being so scared of men straight after the incident yet feeling as though I needed a man to take care of me and offer protection from him.
Being scared I might see his face around every corner, tensing up when anyone tries to argue with me, nightmares of the knife-wielding maniac trying to cut me open.
Taking it into my current very long term super soul mate relationship, to a point where I would unconsciously take my baggage out on my better half.
Using drugs to numb to the pain right after the relationship did not lead to better places, or cutting off ties with friends due to my own reckless behaviour.
That’s not to say anything about the effect it had on my own mental health while adding PTSD onto the roster and the grief that comes with losing that person he pretended to be.
I want to elaborate more on this, he was a monster but he pretended to be someone else, almost as if he knew to draw me in with this kind, caring, fellow.
After we split up I did not take any time to grieve him, instead, I pushed it into a box and buried it deep down inside.
At myself for letting this happen again and again, my friends for not helping me when I really needed it, my parents, who were taken in by his charm.
The anger I had towards him for never paying for what he did, and the anger I had at myself for being so broken that I thought I deserved it.
Cutting myself off from everyone I knew, making excuses about why I couldn’t go out, wanting to be surrounded by people but feeling real loneliness when I was with anyone.
Never sure who I could talk to about it, so in the end, I spoke to no one.
Of people, of trusting anyone who tried to really get close to me, even if I wanted them too. I was always scared that they would treat me the same way he did because I thought I deserved it.
This fear has manifested into my everyday life, as though I am always waiting until he breaks in and finishes the job.
Feeling like a failure in my own life, psychological abuse has gone that deep that I beat myself up even more, and believe every horrible thing he ever said to me.
If it’s true then why try?
This question will plague me for the rest of my life, why did he pick me? What did I do? But these are not the questions I should be asking myself, I should instead blame him for everything he has done to me.
At the end of the day, he caused this, no amount of self-blame will help. Now instead of asking why me, or blaming myself for his behaviour, I choose to blame him.
I blame RYAN!
Thank you so much all of you who got this far, it’s a very long read today, and I very much appreciate it.