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.

Mental Torture & Physical Pain

Last week I braved the decision to share my blog with my Mum, Sisters and closest friends. Two things happened. Firstly my friend sent me a message, after reading my “fight or flight” post. She explained that I probably didn’t remember but when I was sat on my bathroom floor, I actually phoned her. I am still utterly flabbergasted as I honestly can’t remember, there’s lots of gaps in my memory from shock. She said I was in a right state and she’s not surprised I don’t remember, but she’ll never forget, I described to her how I was crouched right down between the toilet and the wall, whispering to her. She even remembered me running the bath once I was sure he was gone.

The second thing to happen was a phone call from one of my sisters. She was upset at my pain and upset that she didn’t realise that he was so abusive towards me when we were together. You see I never told anyone at the time. I was duped into this world all on my own, where I didn’t want people to think badly of my boyfriend.

He never once punched me in the face, but I lost count of the amount of times I was thrown around the room, or had things thrown at me, pint glasses, remote controls. Heck I remember his alcoholic mother scooping me up off the floor at her house in the middle of the night after he’d physically thrown me out of his room because I was upset that he wouldn’t say those three little words back to me. I was a strong young woman, but this man got inside my head and fucked me up from the inside out. He manipulated and controlled me, physically and worse still mentally and emotionally. Do you know what, the emotional torture was actually worse than the physical. He broke me down until I felt worthless, “no-one else will want you”, “you’re fat” “you’re ugly” “you’re useless”. It was like he suffocated my soul with his words. I wasn’t me anymore.

They’re just a snippet of what I had to deal with, the refusal of recognition of being human, to wanting to feel loved was the worst. Making me feel like I couldn’t live without him but also making me the most miserable I’d ever been in my entire life. It didn’t just stop there either. He tormented my son, at the time he convinced me that my 2 year old was jealous of him, it wasn’t until I started my doubts in how I was living that I realised it was him that was jealous. He couldn’t stand that bond I had. When my son was just 2/3yrs old, he had him up by his throat. I didn’t witness it, but my tiny, helpless little child told me… I took him and I ran, I hid at my sister’s house (the one that didn’t know about all this). He phoned everyone he knew trying to find me. When I finally caved, he managed somehow to convince me that my son was lying, that he made it up, exaggerated. He would drive fast… as in 120mph to scare me and my son. Everything he did was to crush me and make me feel like I needed him.

I finally managed to stop it… there was a turning point when I realised that life shouldn’t and needn’t be like this anymore. So what if I was on my own for the rest of my life, it had to be better than this right?

I’d cried the most in my life in the 2 years that I was on and off with this man, it was time to reclaim my life, reclaim who I am, reclaim me. This didn’t sit well with Mr Controlling, he started to stalk me. He would phone me all the time, sit on my doorstep for ages, drive past my friends houses when I was there… repeatedly. He didn’t want me, but no-one else could have me either.

Rape was his final act of violation, his determinative deed of ruining me. But do you know what… I’m a fighter… and I’m winning. He taught me how NOT to be treated by another being. He can’t control me anymore. People like him should not exist, but they do. That’s why I’m sharing my story.

Trigger, Spark, Prompt, Provoke, Cause

I have felt super emotional this last week. Even more so with the impending exchange of contracts on our new house. I guess the feeling of not having to face living on the same street as my rapist is leaving me overwhelmed but also causing me to think about him, it & the past all the more.

I’m really not a fan of the word “Trigger”, I don’t know why, I suppose because it makes me feel weak, and I don’t like to feel weak. Because I am a bit of a control freak and it is something completely out of my control. However since he moved onto my street in June this year, life has been one big trigger. Seeing his house and knowing that he is there, his van or his car, sets off and unavoidable flicker in my brain EVERY SINGLE DAY. Before June this year, there would be occasional prompts in my life to remind me that I have all this buried in my brain, a song, a place, a smell, a nightmare, something on tv, a white van, his name, a person. It was ok though because it was only every so often after all these years. But now, now it’s like being punched in the face on a daily basis.

No matter how hard I try to keep myself occupied, it is without doubt on my mind each morning and the last thing I think of at night. I have this little cocktail or anger, resentment, frustration and sickness in my gut when I return home each day. Don’t get me wrong I am not walking around like some sort of lunatic with a raincloud over my head 24/7. I run my own business, have gorgeous children and an amazing husband. Not least I also have supportive friends, a fun social life and plenty of things that make me happy and far outweigh this dark, gloomy spot of shit. Recognising these emotions actually helps me feel better, when I try and lock them away that’s when I start turning into that irrational being I mentioned previously.

Last night at my counselling session at the Rape Crisis Centre I told my counsellor that I have been feeling really emotional this week. I have been close to tears on numerous (and quite random) occasions but also really busy with work and not sleeping all to well. I know in the run up to the move it’s just becoming overwhelming, not just the thought of not living here with him so close BUT, packing and finding lots of lovely memories as I go, some of which date back to that time when this all started. Letters from my best friend, support and love. Love letters and cards from my husband when we first got together. I was in a really bad place back then but he saw something in me still, he felt lucky to have found me, when in actual fact he was my saviour. I told her that I feel like I just need a really good cry, a release, to stop putting off embracing these emotions, happy and sad. So do you know what, I think today is the day I’m going to nurture those feelings and have a bloody good cry.