It was perfect at first, he was perfect. Perfect at ruining my mind. I was young, naïve and new into the world of boyfriends, relationships and sex. I met a boy who made me laugh, made me smile, but he then went on to making me cry and scream.
Maybe it was me? Maybe it was him? Still to this day the question continues to run through my mind with my only answer being ‘but’. That’s the word I seem to use on the subject of the situation ‘but’, but what?
I know domestic abuse is a highly sensitive subject that is very well known of, where organizations are set up for both men and women to confined help in, I respect that highly. But do they know what it’s really like? They are able to take you out of the situation but they are unable to take the situation out of the victims mind, and that itself is soul destroying. I still can’t quite comprehend it and I don’t expect others either unless they are victims themselves, even when writing I find it hard to understand the concept of it all. But I’m still here and I can say that I survived domestic abuse, which I hope others can say with me.
I walked on eggshells for two years, treading very carefully around him. He was my first boyfriend and my first for everything, I was only 16. Thinking about it now, maybe I was too young. It started off normally just like any other relationship, they call it the ‘honeymoon stage’ where the lust between you both never dies. I was told that it can sometimes change after the stage but I never thought it would change how it did. He was taller and bigger than me, he knew that, I knew that and realistically everyone knew that. He took advantage of his height and turned it into control and power.
I was unaware what a relationship was, what it meant and what was right or wrong. It was the little things to begin with that I was completely oblivious too; in all honesty I thought it was the norm. I wasn’t allowed to speak to boys even if they were in my class or text them, but it deteriorated from there. If I was seen walking with a boy to a lesson or even to the canteen I would receive an explosion of texts attacking me, I would have to plead for his forgiveness as he called me names such as ‘slut’ or ‘a cheating whore’. I took blame for that. I even allowed him to say that he always has eyes on me, knowing what I’m doing, whom I’m with and what I was wearing. I was trapped. I changed my lifestyle to suit his needs; if I were walking with a boy I’d either walk in front of him or behind to avoid an argument. Don’t ever think that’s okay because it’s not. It’s not okay for a male or female to distinguish whom you speak to or walk with.
Social media, websites such as Twitter, Instagram, Facebook and apps such as Snapchat I had them, well I used to have them. They are known for people to have freedom of their opinions but all eyes are on me. If I followed someone on Twitter, the person being a boy of course I would receive messages questioning me on how I know them, the age, the course they do at college, where they live. If I was unable to answer one I had to immediately block them and receive nasty comments that I had to take, because I was told that was what I deserved.
some of you might be thinking that maybe this is far too personal to write a blog about, but if no one speaks up who will. I’m not doing it for sympathy, or attention. I’m doing it for the men and women who see no end to the relationship and showing them that it’s possible.
it wasn’t just emotional or mental abuse, sometimes or most times it would turn physical. See before this all happened I was perceived and seen as strong by my friends, but to him I turned weak, unable to defend for myself. A man or women should never put a hand on you unless with good intention, even an attempt to hit or punch is a warning that you must leave. It started over something so small, a text off an old friend asking how I was, out of politeness I answered. It turned from there, I wanted to leave and by doing so I told him. I was forced into the kitchen where my clothes were taken off, to which he pushed me out the front door and told me to run. I wanted too but I couldn’t grasp the humiliation. I weakened. That’s what he wanted, but he wouldn’t stop. I was in hysterics, I didn’t understand, I was scared, I was alone and I was to blame. But was it me? Or was it him? Like I said that question never leaves my mind. The words from his mouth were like knives in my heart, I was grabbed by my arms and dragged up the stairs like I was nothing, like I was a piece of shit. I was slapped to shut my mouth. I could never scream for help, his hands wrapped around my neck to stop any sort of noise while he attacked me with words. I can’t comprehend it, I really can’t. It seems unbelievable but the pain, the confusion and the fear I went through was indescribable, I was trapped in my own mind and my own relationship.
I can assure you now that wasn’t the only time he hurt me but I don’t have it in me to write more about it, I feel numb.
I managed to end it when I was at an extremely low point in my life, I went to him for support and compassion but it seemed he was the reason I was at my lowest point. I suffer with depression and was contemplating overdosing, I needed him…. well so I thought but in his words I was ‘vile’ and ‘disgusting’. I knew then that I couldn’t take it any longer.
Recently he messaged me through a social media website, at first with good intentions. What I wanted for 2 years I was given, he admitted it. He admitted he did wrong but then came the controlling and the manipulation. We spoke a year later, a conversation to which he vaguely admits what he did wrong and then controls the situation to get into my head. Even after months of being broken up he tries….
There’s two more things I want to say
my best friend passed away nearly 2 years ago, he was like my brother and literally my life line. I wasn’t allowed to speak about him when he passed, I wasn’t even allowed to attend his funeral. I was told no one would notice that I wasn’t there but they did notice and I can’t forgive myself for i.e. just had to write that.
I’m afraid of the dark because of him, I only feel safe sleeping against a wall because of him. I was only 16.
I’m 20 now and because of him I need surgery on my nose to breathe again.
For those in a relationship similar or for those who are going through a domestic relationship, there is an end to it. I know it doesn’t seem possible, trust me I know, but I promise you. I confided in a counselor and a website called ‘safer places’.
Charities along with their phone numbers;
National Domestic Violence helpline 24 hours -0808 2000 247
Refuge 24 hours -0808 2000 247
Safer places -08450 177668
you deserved to be loved