Proactiveness Prevails

I can’t believe how quickly the last 4 weeks have gone since I last posted. It’s funny how talking to no-one in particular out here in the t’internet is surprisingly cathartic. After my last post I decided to take action on my “self” and well-being, not to let this momentary blip affect me more than it needs to.

I called up the rape crisis centre and am back on the waiting list to return to my sessions with them. I had to go back in for an initial meeting and well… I literally spewed up 12 months of pain, some of which I didn’t even realise was there!! It wasn’t until I started to go back inside my own head to try and think why I have been feeling the way I have, that I realised how many triggers and memories have been happening over the last year that my conscious had shoved away to deal with at a later date. My subconscious reminding me that there is something wrong but not quite being able to put a finger on it. I cried a LOT… but do you know what it felt so good to be able to just talk to someone, someone that I didn’t feel like I was burdening. Not that I think any of my friends or family see me as a burden but, I’m just at this point now, where I’m sick of it being something I have to talk about with them. Having someone totally not linked to me to release it all was great!

When I left the crisis centre, I did actually feel like I was going to call my sister or a friend and that I would tell my husband about it afterwards… I still haven’t. I don’t know why.

I also went to see my doctor. I told her how I’ve been feeling, about my glumness and weight gain… which to be fair I think is in the most part due to me self-medicating myself alcohol when I feel shitty! Not a good idea folks. My disturbed sleeping patterns. Although I already knew what I needed to do on that part, having a doctor tell me to do it (and also being all pro-active and shit) gave me the kick up the bum I needed. I joined the gym. It’s not just about losing weight, it’s getting fit, it’s “me” time, getting out of the house and of course those all important endrophins our bodies’ natural pain and stress reliever! So now I am going regularly and feeling better inside and out.

Sleep! I can’t believe how much it’s improved, I’m still having the odd random nightmare linked to the pig or my past BUT I have been sleeping so much better, less night wakings, deeper sleeps. I urge you to try this technique http://www.byrdie.com/how-to-fall-asleep-fast it was doing the rounds on facebook and I decided to give it a try. It takes me longer than a minute of repeating this breathing but I’d say I’m mostly asleep within 5 minutes. When I’ve awoken in the night I do it again and POW back to sleep, whereas before I would lay awake for hours!

It’s still *there* that box and those things and once I am assigned a counsellor I will start talking and trying to overcome each section of it, big and small. I definitely do need to speak to my husband and preferably tonight as tomorrow we are going back to the village, the village we hot-footed it out of in November 2013 to get away from the pig. It’s one night and high percentage chance the pig may well be in the pub, I need to prepare him for the fact that although I am looking forward to our evening with friends, deep down I’m not ok and I will be thinking about it.

It doesn’t just go away

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.

They’re not all pigs, promise!

As I sat cuddled up to my husband last night on the sofa, I smiled. Not just a visible smile, but a smile on the inside too. I had a girly lunch date on friday and we were chatting about when we first met our other halves amongst many other things! And that moment last night when I looked at him and loved him still so much. We’d spent the weekend packing for our impending move, doesn’t sound all that romantic does it?! The excitement of the new house is bubbling away now, but that is not what made me smile. He did. Everything he does for me silently, effortlessly and without hesitation.

You see, I hated men when I met him. I had no desire to have a boyfriend ever again because of what had quite recently happened to me, being raped by my ex boyfriend. They scared me, repulsed me and well… I definitely didn’t want a relationship. So I wasn’t expecting what happened next, I met him at work and to be honest I just needed a little bit of flattering attention. Let’s face it we all need it even if our opinion of the opposite sex is rock bottom. For some reason attention makes you feel a touch more confident about yourself… that actually maybe you’re not completely damaged goods. But it was still nothing serious… WHO WAS I KIDDING! my friends laughed at me every time I said it was nothing serious and then would spend the rest of the night talking about him and smiling about him.

I soon began to realise, that this man was different. He respected me, he cared. He made me laugh and I liked to make him laugh too! suddenly life was feeling a lot easier to deal with. With the mistakes of staying with him even pre-rape, when he was abusive and nasty still raw in my mind, when he lived with me and my son, there was no way I was making that mistake again. I played my cards close to my chest and didn’t even introduce J to my son until I knew it was right. When I did introduce them, I was on cloud 9! I couldn’t have asked for more.

About another 4 weeks on from this, it all came crashing down momentarily. On my birthday he decided to text me. (to make this post a little easier to follow from now on I will refer to him as the pig.)  All of a sudden I had this evil monster from my past, encroaching on my happy present/future… how could he, everything was going so well. I was distraught, I felt sick. My Mum found me sobbing in my room, she asked me what was wrong and I told her I had decided to tell J about the pig. She held me tight and told me that J was a great person and I’ll know that when he doesn’t go anywhere when I tell him what happened, when he supports me through it instead of running a mile. She was right.

J and I have been together now for almost 10 years. He has supported me through everything, the good the bad and the ugly and I too have held him up in his times of need and laughed with him in our happy times. Anyone that says rape doesn’t affect you long term is delusional. When we started trying for our own baby I had a lot of worries and fears. No matter how amazing J was, you still can’t help but fear this will change at some point. Throw some irrational pregnancy hormones and hormone-fuelled, surreal and head-fucking nightmares into the mix and it’s anyone’s wonder why I wasn’t in a straight jacket! J was still there by my side regardless. When our baby finally arrived and I wanted so much to breast feed but couldn’t bear the though of having my body seen after 2 years of being told I’m disgusting and fat by the pig (incidentally I was tiny when I was with the pig!) The emotional torment was too much, but J still supported me and my decision.

Don’t get me wrong there have been times when he has said to me “I’m not your ex” when I’ve not trusted him enough, or when I am expecting him to do something bad (and he doesn’t) and I have always been over-protective of my son. I guess that’s maternal instinct and guilt. Guilt for exposing him to such a bad person as the pig. This does also affect my parenting, especially as J has been his father figure since the age of 4, I still feel protective.

But more recently, this June, the day I found out the pig had moved onto my street after not seeing him for almost 10 years. To say I was hysterical would be an understatement. I hadn’t smoked for 2 years but the first thing I requested of J was a packet of cigarettes and a bottle of wine and he just went and got them, no objections. We sat and smoked and drank, I cried and kept asking over and over “why”, “what are the chances” I didn’t know what I was going to do or what I needed to do. He said to me “we can move” he had no idea how we would but he was prepared to just say sod it we can make it happen. Initially I didn’t want to feel like I was running away so I wanted to see how it would be. I know I needed to feel J’s presence more now than ever. After talking, smoking, drinking and crying, I ran a bath and we both got in. J held me tight while I sobbed into the water. He didn’t need to ask me why, he just knew I needed to feel close and safe.

It didn’t stop there either, the next day he took the day off work and drove me to my emotional support session at the rape crisis centre. He waited outside until we asked him to come in, we talked through what we might do. Eventually we decided to confront the pig. The following evening we just went together and knocked on his door. No conversation was had, I just told him we lived here and to stay away from me and my family. It was the most nerve racking thing I’ve ever done but afterwards I felt great, empowered and with J by my side I could literally face anything.

Turns out, even after all this, living so close to the pig just makes me feel shit. It’s a daily reminder of an upsetting past. The nightmares started again. After a couple of months I finally said to J I couldn’t live here anymore and that’s when the house hunting began!

So that’s why, last night when I looked at my husband I smiled. I smiled because he will do anything for my happiness as would I for his. We packed up our house this weekend in preparation to move on Saturday. It’s the end of an era but the start of something new and exciting. Another proclamation of how strong our love is.

Not all men are pigs, some are kind, funny, loving, strong, safe and others are even insults to pigs.