You don't know me, but you need to hear the truth before you move yourself and your child across the entire country for a man you don't know.
I've been wrestling with my conscience, trying to convince myself that this is not my business and that I should just stay out of it.
But when I see that someone else who's been a victim is about to unknowingly put herself in another bad situation, my integrity won't let me sit in silence when I have the ability to step out of my comfort zone and warn her.
My goal here is simply to inform you. If you choose to still be with him, that's entirely up to you. I have no ill will towards you... In fact, it's quite the opposite.
I just want to be able to sleep at night without the guilt eating at me knowing I could have said something, and wondering if I could have saved a fellow survivor from additional trauma and pain if I had just spoken up.
Wouldn't you feel the same way if you found out that your abuser's new girlfriend was a past victim like you, and she saw your abuser as her white knight because she didn't know the truth about him and fell for his manipulation? Wouldn't you at least try to inform her? Wouldn't you feel obligated not to stand by and watch it happen to someone else?
Again, you're obviously free to make your own choices, and I respect that.
Please know that I have emotionally detached while writing this, so that I can be certain that my words are all facts untouched by my own pain or bias. I hope you don't take any of this as condescension, as it's only meant to be concise. I figured I have one shot at you really hearing me, so I've put my all into it for you.
Here goes.
I was married to him for seventeen years. I had no self worth. I had no self esteem. He didn't abandon me, so I thought I owed him. I thought I owed him everything. So I devoted myself to him completely. Because he stayed. I told myself that no relationship is perfect, and that I just had to take the good with the bad. Because at least he was faithful.
His temper took it's toll over the years. Our main daily argument was him treating me like I was a burden while telling me he loved me. Actions speak louder than words. So every day I'd walk on eggshells and try to bring to his attention when he hurt me and how we could problem solve, and he would get so angry and it would escalate. I would cry and tell him that I didn't want him to feel bad, I just wanted him to stop hurting me, and I just wanted us to work together to come up with practical ways for him to do so. He would scream and yell and bite himself and hit himself or hit something else and tell me that he hated himself, because he loved me so much and he couldn't help how he was treating me. He claimed it was just the way his mind was and that he wished he could change and that he was a horrible person and a horrible husband and he didn't know why I was still with him.
That would break my heart. Every time. So I'd apologize and tell him I loved him so much and reassure him that he's not a bad husband and he's not a bad person and that everyone has flaws. He'd always promise to try harder. But he never kept that promise.
And every night I'd cry, silently so I wouldn't wake my daughter, trying to keep my suffering to myself, wondering how me asking not to be treated like garbage turned into him making me feel guilty for making him feel bad by bringing it to his attention.
Every night I'd wonder what else I could possibly do to help him. And every morning it was as though it never happened. I'd just deal with his perpetual anger and him lashing out at me "because I was there" since he had no one else to take his issues out on. And I'd walk on eggshells trying not to set him off. All. The. Time. This was the foundation of my life for those seventeen years.
I was conditioned to believe his lies. I was conditioned to cover for him with all of our friends. To laugh it off and smile around everyone like everything was okay. I stood up for him. I made excuses for how he treated me. And I did it all completely alone and with a smile. He wasn't controlling; he wasn't that kind of abuser... He was too lazy to be controlling. He wanted me to do and to be everything for him. So I was forced to make all the decisions and to live only for him. He wanted someone to take care of him and to worship him. And I did.
I thought I was lucky. I thought this was just what love was, and I was just a freak of nature because I cared so deeply for him. No one loved anyone as deeply as I loved him, and I was okay with that.
And it nearly killed me.
Then a handful of years ago it got worse.
Our sex life became much more active. He was always rough, and he always hurt me. He said it wasn't on purpose, and that is just how guy's brains work... That during sex they don't think, they just do, so they can't really control what they're doing mid-sex. And I didn't really have a frame of reference, so I believed him. I tried to go along with everything but I always ended up ripping open and having damage and physical injuries down there from sex with him. I did my best to physically heal each time, always searching for new remedies to help me heal faster so he could go again. And the cycle continued.
In the last year of our marriage, the sex got really bad. I can't count how many times I had to look away and fight back tears as I begged him to please hurry up and finish because I just couldn't take the pain. How he had no problem with the fact that I was in pain and continued pounding away until he got his orgasm. How he was irritated if he ever needed to stop. And how he scolded me for squeezing my thighs a little to save myself some extra pain and ripping from his impact. He got annoyed and said it was like I was pushing him away and forced himself harder to go all the way in, despite my yelps.
Then he'd watch porn on his phone next to my head so he could ignore me so he could finish and orgasm. He always asked if he could before doing so, and I always said yes, because whatever worked for him I was willing to do.
He became more and more aggressive sexually. Then my best friend moved in with us because we were helping him get on his feet.
And he lost his mind.
He became suddenly jealous and paranoid and violent. He threatened to kill my best friend because he said it would "solve all his problems". I thought he was just being a guy up until this point and I was doing my best to help reassure him that he was being silly.
But that was too much.
He threatened to kill my best friend, and he threatened me, and other unspeakable things.
He told me it wasn't even because my best friend was a guy. He said he just didn't want my attention divided. He wanted me to go back to just living for him and being whatever he needed. His words.
Then, the straw that broke the camel's back.
He raped me. I said no. And he did it anyway. I'll spare you the triggery details of that horrific night because I re-live it enough. I still wake up more often than I care to admit screaming bloody murder and thrashing until my current husband holds and soothes me enough to bring me back to reality, reassuring me that he understands me and he knows it's going to take time to heal and validates my PTSD.
Even wiping myself can cause me to trigger and get launched into a debilitating sensory flashback.
There's so much. Too much. It was literally Stockholm Syndrome. I wasn't kidnapped, but I was manipulated and brainwashed into believing that abuse was love, and into feeling guilty for ever standing up for myself. All our friends and family abandoned me. He chose to play the victim. He fully admitted what he did, but he claims it was an "accident". But it wasn't. I said no (in front of a witness, by the way), and he did it anyway. He's a good liar. He manipulates people's heartstrings so they feel so bad for him because his horrible ex-wife (me) is apparently the bad guy. I still don't know how those people sleep at night, but I've moved on, regardless of how much it hurt to be abandoned by everyone who ever claimed to care about me when I literally did nothing wrong... except finally stand up for myself.
I'm far from perfect and I don't claim to be... But I'm not a liar and I'm not a cheat. I put my all into that marriage and it nearly killed me. At the end, I actually feared for my life. There's so much more to say, but it would take more than a blog post to write it.
As a survivor, I'm passionate about helping others who've been through trauma, because it gives my own traumas purpose. I am passionate about taking the knowledge and experience I have that came from my personal traumas and healing, and using it to help other victims / survivors... It brings me peace and adds to my healing.
So please, really listen and process everything that I said here. Then choose how to move forward for yourself and your child.
My inbox is always open, but I understand if you don't use it. I'll never think bad of you, no matter what you choose.
I truly hope you find the peace that you deserve.
🖤❤️🖤
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