Why I’m Letting Go
November 2022 update: I wrote the piece below many months ago now. After writing it, I went back to him one more time. And although, as usual, it was good in the beginning, this time it ended with him assaulting me. That was almost 6 months ago to the day, and I’m proud to say that I haven’t seen or spoken to him since. I am finally free of the relationship, but not the aftershocks. As ever with me, I got through the immediate threat and period thereafter well, but the trauma stored in my body has been coming out for a few months now, building to a crescendo which is fast approaching.
I’m ok, I’m better, I’m healing.
I still stand by everything I wrote those many months ago:
This may be the most important thing I’ve ever written.
I’m scared to do it. Terrified actually. Not because it’s so important or because I’m worried about the reception it will get, but because it’s just so big. Something that is so taboo in our culture and something that I know people will judge me for.
I watched the last episode of Maid last night, and I sobbed uncontrollably. Big heaving sobs the likes of which I haven’t experienced for a long while. And all through the night’s strange dreams and today’s unsettled feeling, it was percolating. Until just now, when I went to post my PCR test and I listened to the song (Let Go by Sharon Van Etten) that ends Maid and I suddenly felt this enormous surge, this compulsion, this OBLIGATION to write about what happened to me.
To say: me too, I also was abused by my partner for years. To say: he was also never violent with me but he scared me and he still scares me and I have held it all in for years and years because I didn’t want to believe that it was happening to me. To me, an educated woman with her own will and courage and no small measure of strength. To me, the woman who has tried to help other women, who has been trained to recognise coercion and controlling and abusive behaviour. Who has spent hours trying to understand what compelled women to tolerate, stay with and then return to these men and situations. Who did not recognise it in her own relationship because that would mean recognising how damaged she had been by her childhood and because the grass is always greener in Denial.
I am so ashamed. I am so lonely.
It’s so very lonely here.
I have carried the shame of my alcoholic mother and the lingering thought that that was somehow my fault around with me for nearly 43 years. I walked my whole life with that shame on my back and I walked straight into a relationship with an abusive man and handed it to him to care for. He nurtured it and made it stronger still because that is what his abusive childhood taught him. He turned his hatred of his mother on to me.
He wasn’t and isn’t a monster. Most people would disagree and would say it’s my Stockholm syndrome talking, but I know it isn’t. Just like in Maid, my ex isn’t an evil, sadistic man. He never once hit me and only came close once.
I know, I know.
Try, as hard as you can, to BREATHE and hear me out. Try to remember that I am the one who was abused, and I am here openly saying it was abuse. Try to think about why I would put this most private thing out into the world and then make excuses for him.
The many ways he abused me are in no way excused, justified or indeed the result of my behaviour, including my decisions (so many times…) to return to the relationship. And the same goes for the fact that he had an incredibly traumatic childhood and has continued to experience repeated traumatic events. None of that justifies it, there is no way to excuse his abuse. And I don’t.
At all.
But I am me. That isn’t enough. Nope, no way. Just like I spent the first many years of my therapy talking endlessly about my mother’s childhood in an effort to understand her alcoholism and abuse of me, I cannot accept that my ex’s behaviour is simply due to the fact that he’s a “Bad Man”. The narrative we have around Domestic Abuse needs to change. It’s rarely a black and white thing: man beats woman and she is cowered and stays with him because she is terrified while he continues living his happy, sadistic life.
[Before I go on, a little note on language….To my fellow women: both the OGs and those recently arrived into the sisterhood (welcome by the way, it’s often shitty to be a woman but the sisterhood is unparalleled), please note that I am going to use the term Woman when talking about those who have been abused by their partners. I hope you will allow me to do this without too much objection. I use this term to INCLUDE all people who have been abused by their partners: I have met men who have been abused by women and men. To them I say, for the purposes of this essay, I am giving you a temporary pass to womanhood ok? Behave while you’re here, if treated with respect, we’re a welcoming and compassionate bunch.]
Right, where was I?
Ah yes, my ex and whether his abuse is justified. Look, I used to be a lawyer, I know justice and injustice and when the use of force (physical or mental) is justified and I know full well it is NEVER justified in cases of abuse, mine included.
But, having caveated myself to the nth degree, can I ask a question?
What do we do with the abusers? Lock them up and throw away the key? Condemn them?
We think that domestic abuse is all about black eyes and raised fists and being powerless and there being no hope of him changing ever. We believe that is the only way abuse happens and we’re wrong. Of course, it often is like that. Violence, intimidation and keeping women petrified are key features of these relationships. But not always. Sometimes there’s no violence. Sometimes he’s able to be intimate (not just physically) and self-aware and can talk with great insight about his mental health and how he wants to change. Sometimes he can be unbelievably sweet and supportive. Sometimes he hugs you for no reason other than he can sense you need it.
We don’t always recognise abuse. We believe that because it doesn’t conform to society’s extremely narrow definition, it isn’t abuse: he’s just mean/unfaithful/mentally ill. And when we stay with him despite these things, we blame ourselves because we’re not the cowering victim that we associate with abuse victims. We think to ourselves that it’s not that bad, he’s often awful but that’s because of the abuse he’s suffered and we believe him when he says he’s taking steps to address that. We see the good in him because we think that by loving him no matter what, we can empower the good side to conquer the demons. We think that if we can just put up with this for a little longer, he’ll get better and be the sweet caring man he rarely is all the time.
It’s unbelievably difficult to admit to yourself that you’ve been abused. I can say it now but I was in it for so long, on and off, that it has been almost impossible to relax for long enough to feel the effect of that abuse. I don’t know how to describe it properly, but after watching Maid, I felt it viscerally. My whole body shook and sobbed until my stomach ached with the sheer exertion of it.
It’s been 3 days since I watched the last episode now and I just can’t shake it. It’s like all the traumatic experiences I had with my ex, mixed in with flashbacks from childhood (because why have a flashback about one traumatic event when you can have them about many? Thanks for the efficiency brain!) are hitting me all at once. I feel afraid and angry and so, so sad for myself. I see the abused woman I am now, despite my strength and courage and uncanny ability to feign confidence.
I see how unbelievably, gut wrenchingly painful my loneliness is. I see how I isolated myself from others as I was embarrassed at being in a relationship with him. So when people talked about abusers isolating their partners I didn’t think it applied to me as I was isolating myself voluntarily. And when they talked about abusers controlling women’s finances, I didn’t think it applied to me as I gave him money whenever he asked.
There is no resolution, no nice conclusion to finish this off. I’m stronger etc but that doesn’t make it easier. Acknowledging it publicly is a massive step. Speaking my truth helps. Time, self-love and forgiveness help.
