A Survivor? Me?

My friend said something to me the other day that made me take a step back. She called me a “survivor”. I apparently “survived” domestic abuse. Did I? Am I a survivor?

I agree that I was in a violent relationship. It was violent, abusive and very soul-destroying, or so I thought. Was my relationship as bad as those women say on the Jeremy Kyle Show, or those horrifying stories that you read in crappy women’s mags? Was my relationship really that bad?

I told my friend that I didn’t think I was a survivor. Not in the way that she made it sound. She looked at me like I was insane. She told me to remember all the things that he’d done to me and then tell myself I wasn’t a survivor.

Let’s take a good hard look at what he did to me and then make the decision of whether I am a survivor. Maybe it’ll do some good and show someone else that they don’t deserve to be in the abusive relationship that they are in. If I can help just one woman believe that she deserves better I’ve done a good job.

I remember one night he pulled me by the hair whilst we were walking home and ripped out my hair extensions and pushed me to the floor because I wanted him to buy me a burger in the kebab shop. He snatched my phone out my hand so I couldn’t call my flat mate at the time. It had been a particularly heavy night out. He scraped the skin from my knees and they were bleeding pretty bad. This was the night I threw my fav red pair of high heels in the river…. in fact it wasn’t me it was my ex… The cock. You just don’t fuck with a girl’s shoes. I walked home bare footed, cutting my feet on glass.

He punched me in the nose once. I fell back off the bed and hit my back and head onto the cube where the TV was. It was the only time he’d ever actually swing for me. I ran into my flat mates bedroom bawling my eyes out with blood coming out of my nose. The only time I had to go to MIU, I thought he broke it.. The punch made me bite through my own bottom lip.

This one night he told me to have a shower and relax and he will do dinner. for us both. I got out the shower and he had done dinner just for himself, in my flat (before he moved in) with my food, my cutlery! So you know what I did? I took the plate from his hands and threw it at the wall (my plate and my food) He then decided to smash my elephants and push me over the coffee table. Resulting in me having bruises up my back.

One night I remember thinking he might actually kill me. I’d been out with the girls and had high heels on, I later think may have saved my life. I was drunk and giggly, he was in a furious bad mood. I can’t remember what happened or how, I just remember being pinned to the bed with his hands around my throat. I remember panicking, things starting to go fuzzy around the edges. I couldn’t focus on him and I couldn’t work out if it was because I was drunk, or if it because he was actually going to kill me. I tried to use my hands and arms to loosen his grip, slapping him in the face but it got tighter… Trying to shut me up. I kicked out my leg and somehow managed to catch the heel in the flesh of his thigh. We didn’t have a big fight like that again. It was just pushing and shoving and an odd slap across the face from then.

I remember November 2018 after we became official … I found text messages he sent to both his ex’s, telling them he missed them and stuff. I cried, shouted and screamed at him. This was the guy I moved into my flat with me and my best mate, He was sleeping rough at the gym at weekends because he didn’t want to be home, I brought him new clothes, I fed him and moved him in within a month of being with him. I pushed him and he pushed him, he pushed me into our chest of drawers, I slapped him that night. I had to do whatever I could to try and get his hands off me. He didn’t have a mark on him yet that night landed me with bruises up my back. I was hurt emotionally and physically.

That was the night I think I think I found out about his past. He told me he was going to jump in the river, he walked out the flat sending me suicidal messages .. I told my flat mate I needed to find him, we drove everywhere looking for him.. Turned out he went back to the flat and made himself a bath.. This is abuse, guilt tripping me into thinking something bad was going to happen?!

He said some truly awful shit to me too. He told me my figure repulsed him. He told me I was bad in bed. I am a horrible person. He wanted a skinnier, prettier wife. He hurt me because he could. He use to always bring me down, so i started bringing him down to see how he liked it.. Yet it was always my fault never his. Things went back to normal for a few months. Normal?! What is normal? We started fighting again and the pushing and shoving started.

As I write these things down, it’s almost as though they didn’t happen to me. It feels like I am writing a story about another girl in another lifetime. Technically, it’s true – that was a totally different girl in a completely different lifetime. It’s like a smack in the face (excuse the pun) when I see all the things he did to me written down in black and white. Did I think that he would kill me? Yes. Yes I did. We were a recipe for disaster.

 I thought it wouldn’t get easy. But I can assure you it does! He forced me into moving out my own home, (which was a joint tenancy) I bought everything for the flat.. his mum thrown my stuff into the spare room… this made me realise my worth. I escaped a very manipulative man, someone who I thought loved me. But it wasn’t love at all. This has shaped me into a stronger woman and I’m thankful for you ending it. Social media and things that are happening behind closed doors and two different things. Yes I looked happy and so did he …

This part isn’t easy, In March 2019 his mum made me abort my own baby because my ex “wasn’t ready” she pressured me into getting rid of a mini me. To this day I have not got over it and I never will. August 2019 my ex physically abused me to the point where the police were called and he was arrested and spent the night in a cell.. his mum manipulated me and guilt tripped me into dropping the charges because it would fuck up his career.

Seeing all this and reading it back to myself, I realise that technically, I was a survivor of domestic abuse. And it wasn’t all physical either – it was mental too. Complete mental torture on both parts I guess.

I feel sorry for my family, my mum went through hell and I never realised. She had sleepless nights, long and tearful conversations with my family to figure out how to get me to leave, and in the end she gave up and refused to listen to me anymore in a bid to shock me. The fact I was set to marry him .. what a fucking joke.

In conclusion, I think everyone involved in this horrid situation was a survivor. And yes, after this long and complicated debate with myself, I realise that I am too a survivor. I don’t hate my ex, I don’t hate you. That’s the first thing I want to say to you. As I look at my TimeHop and I’m reminded of the short time we had together. I realise I don’t hate you. I don’t hate you at all. I want to but I just don’t. Because I have matured. I don’t hate you because hate takes up so much energy and you’re not really worth that. I barely even think about you and when I do, I don’t really feel much. I laugh when I remember the good times, I feel a small stab of sentimental sadness when I remember the bad, but that’s about it.

I just hope you can sleep with yourself at night, knowing what you did to me. Knowing what you did to someones property (keeping this out my blog for reasons) I also hope, one day, Karma comes around and bites you on the ass like you deserve. I don’t need to exact my revenge on you. You’re not worthy of anything I could deliver best served cold. Everything you did will catch up with you and you won’t be able to charm or fuck your way out of it.

I’m not letting anyone dampen my sparkle. I know my worth, it’s taking time, but I’m getting there. If you’re struggling out there just remember that feeling is temporary, focus on what you do have, love those around you and most importantly LOVE YOURSELF.

I AM A SURVIVOR! Whoever is reading this SO ARE YOU!

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