It doesn’t just go away does it?! I haven’t posted in over a year, a quick re-cap:
11.5 years ago I left an abusive, controlling, nasty boyfriend. He subsequently harassed me and wouldn’t accept that I could move on. This from the guy who made me feel worthless and ruined when I was with him, then he couldn’t let me be happy without him either. Then he raped me. 10 years later out of the blue he moved onto my street in my village… I couldn’t live with the fact he was there and it brought back too much pain so we moved.
I managed to pack up that little box in my brain and tape down the lid for a little while but it’s still there. The tape slowly peeling off every now and then. By all accounts the last year has been great, we bought a house and moved away from the pig. Initially I had regret, especially taking the kids away from friends but our new house is so lovely and bigger which is better for my business too. But I couldn’t help feeling like I was being selfish moving the whole family because of my issues.
We’ve all settled in really well and new friendships are being made. I stopped my sessions with the rape crisis centre pretty much straight after we moved. At the time I thought the move would make everything right again and it has improved no end, I also had problems with my youngest child that took to the forefront of my mind and worries and making her well and happy was more important to me than anything else (including my own mental health) so I just stopped. On reflection it maybe wasn’t the best idea.
I am basically burying it again rather than dealing with it. Our first Christmas in the new house I did all I could to avoid going back to the old village even though a close relative was inviting us over. Gradually over time I have managed to return to see the said relative and also take my children to see their friends and the feeling of immense anxiety & nausea has lessened each time. It does depend on my mood before hand, on whether I see his van or even him. I guess the reason I wanted to write a post again is because I am anxious again. I’m going over in 4 weeks to the local pub for dinner for the relative’s birthday. There is a high possibility the pig will be there. I didn’t think this bothered me too much given how much better I had got at going to the village now after a year of not living there. Until this morning, after confirming we’d be attending yesterday, today I feel sick and anxious.
I’ve stopped talking about it and no-one talks to me about it either. I don’t feel like I should be talking about it anymore, we moved away right?! surely I’m ok now. 70% of the time I’m fine and getting on well in life but there are still those reminders, granted not a daily reminder like having him live on the same street as me but still reminders. I’m sorry this is going to be a long post because I haven’t spoken out in such a long time. That unavoidable flicker in my brain, I’ve talked about it before.
Rape is in the news, on the TV, on the radio, on social media. It’s pretty hard to avoid the subject and in turn there’s that flicker. Not that I want to completely avoid it because I don’t. I think it’s good it’s spoken about, more needs to be voiced. My problem is I get these provocations and try to ignore them, I lift the lid on my box and throw them in and shut it as quick as I can. I think that has lead me to a build up of shit I just haven’t dealt with.
One thing that really struck chord with me was the programme on BBC “Murdered by my boyfriend” I recorded it in the summer and just left it there unwatched for ages until one day I had the strength to watch it. I wanted to watch it on my own too as I didn’t know how it would make me feel. Yes I know, I wasn’t murdered by my boyfriend, I’m still here and have a beautiful family. That girl in the programme however, that was me, that was my relationship with the pig. If someone had given me a tick sheet of the situations that occurred throughout it the only thing I wouldn’t have ticked is that I was killed oh and fortunately my son wasn’t the pigs child.
That’s not me or the pig. This is the couple from the programme.
Anyway, I think that’s probably enough for today’s post. Surprisingly I feel better having gotten this all off my chest to no-one in particular. I have learnt from writing this that maybe I should go back to the rape crisis centre and start up my sessions again.
Rape Happens 