Emotional Abuse

I always said that if a partner ever physically hurt me I'd be straight out the door. I never understood why someone would stay in an abusive relationship, until it happened to me.

The abuse I endured wasn't physical and maybe that's why it took me so long to see it for what it was, I sometimes still question myself even now, but abuse is the right word.

Verbal and emotional abuse hurts. It hurts your heart and your mind, it has you questioning and doubting yourself, your own sanity and makes you paranoid.

Now when I look back I can see that I was in a relationship with a narcissist and none of what was thrown at me was my fault. I didn't do anything wrong and I didn't deserve how I was treated.

In the beginning, everything was rosy, the ground I walked on was worshipped and I could do no wrong. My new partner was hurting, broken, but that had been caused by his ex, by her terrible mistreatment of him and unfair demands. I was here to save him, he told me that I'd literally saved his life.

Who wouldn't take that compliment and feel like everything that was happening was just meant to be?

He wrote endless words about me, us, the perfect fairy tale love story we were living. Showed me off to friends and family, sang my praises to anyone who'd listen.

I now know all the above was just part of what he does, it's known as "love bombing". It draws you in, makes you feel invincible, like you've found your soul mate, like you're his entire world and so he becomes yours.

Things moved incredible quickly, he moved in with me 3 months after we met. Which now just seems ridiculous, I don't really know how I let that happen but he'd already drawn me in completely by that point.

Even in the early days he tested me, although I didn't see it as that at the time, he would fly off the handle at small things, arguments about nothing, if I questioned the smallest thing about him or disagreed with something he said. I'd be left crying with my head spinning, after tirade of abuse as he stormed out of the house in dramatic style, start packing bags, go off grid and disappear for hours. I'd sit in tears, worried, confused, scared with no real idea of what I'd done wrong. I'd text and ring him constantly, being ignored to the point I'd be literally begging him to contact me, to let me know he was ok. I'd be apologising even though I didn't know what I was apologising for, but I had to be in the wrong didn't I? Why would his reaction be so extreme if it wasn't my fault?

The answer was that I hadn't done anything wrong, nothing was my fault. Once he stormed out after he'd stumbled across a flirty chat I'd had with someone online, BEFORE I'd even met him.

It was all to make sure I started to question myself, doubt myself, doubt who I was, put me on the back foot, make me think things were my fault, manipulate me and make me think I wasn't worthy, that no one else would ever want me if he left me.

All this was interspersed with the love bombing, obviously, or I would have walked then. Right? Who knows, I still don't really know even now. That's how far he'd got into my head.

I was either on a pedestal or crushed on the floor.

Things started to change when we started trying for a baby. I knew in my heart of hearts that he didn't really want another child, but that was my hard limit, one that I'd made clear right from the very beginning. If it had come to it and he'd said he didn't want a child, I would have ended it and walked away there and then.
That was never said though, despite my endless questioning, checking and my own doubts (I really should listen to myself!). Even though comments were made about him knowing he "had to give me a child", what does that even mean?! I realise now that he meant exactly that, if he hadn't "given" me a child I would have walked and he would have lost his supply.

I fell pregnant pretty quickly, but my bubble of excited happiness was soon popped. I had to ask for a hug or kiss, they weren't offered freely or given unexpectedly. Physical closeness just seemed to stop, almost overnight. I was never told I looked good anymore or even that I was glowing with my growing bump, I could count on one hand the number of times he felt our baby kick and wriggle, he said he found it "weird" it left me feeling that I was replusive to him.

Midwife appointments and antenatal classes seemed to be endured as a chore, I knew this wasn't all new to him but his complete lack of interest or enthusiasm really upset me. I stated repeatedly that he didn't need to accompany me if he didn't want to, he'd tell me he did want to be there but he was only ever there in body. I was made to feel I had to rush and not ask questions, not make a fuss or be excited or hold him up from getting back to watch the football.

My labour was long and hard and sadly lacking in support from my partner. When I was in pieces having given in to an epidural that I didn't really want, it was the midwife who held me whilst he sat, phone in hand, across the room. Yet again I was left feeling that I was taking too long, doing it wrong and inconveniencing him, I don't think I'd ever felt so scared or alone, I just wanted to ring my Dad and have someone there with me who I knew loved me. Instead I told him to go home, he'd been very vocal about being tired and unable to sleep in a hospital chair, it was doing his back no good, he should go home, sleep, take a break. He'd come back when something was happening.

He did come back, when I rang in tears because they'd decided they needed to monitor baby more closely, it's heart rate was dropping, they wanted to do blood gases, stick more monitors on. I was being prodded and poked and was terrified my baby wasn't going to be ok, the room full of doctors and midwives. So, yes, he came back but he'd barely slept, he'd instead sat having a drink and watching football. He asked if I didn't just want to ask for a caesarean, it would be easier, it's what his ex wife had done. I almost punched him, i think I would have done if my focus hadn't been on just delivering my baby safely.

Our beautiful new baby gave him something new to show off, to brag about to friends and family, to post about on social media. He was eager to invite people round, to tell everyone how amazing she was, how beautiful and strong. His interest when no one was looking however was decidedly lukewarm, happy to hold her when she was sleeping, change a nappy when he had an audience, but not actually really help or support me.

He had always enjoyed a drink, but it had escalated since I'd started my maternity leave had started. It was a daily occurrence and the volume was becoming a problem. It only served to reduce his, already minimal, tolerance levels and increase his anger.

He once went to our crying baby in the evening, I'd be accused of pushing him out, not allowing him to make parenting choices, so I'd let him go whilst I cooked, even though the majority of a bottle of red had already been drunk. I think I took the stairs 5 at a time after hearing him shout down the monitor "what the fuck are you doing?" my heart dropped like a stone when I got into the nursery to see him tightly holding her and trying to force a dose of calpol down my screaming, frightened 5 month old baby. That was the moment I swore I would never allow him to be alone with her again when he'd been drinking.

I did get a "sorry" from him the next day, but with no explanation of his actions, his temper, his anger and the force he was using on our baby who purely needed cuddling and rocking.

I guess that's the point that I shut down somewhat, from everything else, all I could focus on was my daughter her well being and development. I didn't trust him anymore, so I redoubled my own efforts and put everything else aside.

To me this seemed right, normal, it's what you do for your children isn't it? They should be your focus, they should come first, they're only little for such a short period of time, devoting the majority of my time and effort to her was natural to me.

It only gave my partner ammunition to fire at me, I was told every choice I made was wrong, my feelings were dismissed.
I was wrong to still be breastfeeding, it is doing me no good, our daughter doesn't need it any longer, it is weird, not normal, I should stop.
I shouldn't always go to her when she cries.
I shouldn't always pick her up when she asks to be held.
I shouldn't explain things to her, I shouldn't give her choices.
I shouldn't be upset when dropping her off at nursery.
I should put more effort in with his other children, that I was neglecting them in favour of my daughter.
I wasn't doing enough round the house, as he was cooking 90% of the evening meals.

I'd gone back to work when our daughter was only 7 months old as I didn't want to have to rely on my partner for money, he'd made a comment about resenting his ex for not working and him still having to do everything around the house.

So I was back at work, doing 90% of the parenting, with all his children, all the washing, cleaning, tidying, food shopping, planning activities.....but nothing was enough, he never wanted to join in the activities I arranged to try and give all his children attention and time, I was always wrong.

It often made me question myself and my choices, I'd spend time researching and reading, hunting out facts to back up my mothers instinct and woman's intuition. I would share articles and papers with him, which would never be read.

Sometimes, if he'd drunk more than the now usual bottle, the abuse would be direct to my face. I had to tell him repeatedly to stop swearing and shouting in front of our daughter and his other children.

I was called all the names under the sun, repeatedly, told I was a selfish cunt, took no care of myself, was a mess, looked 15 years older than I am, told to fuck off.

Most often the abuse came via whatsapp messages whilst I was doing the bedtime routine or even when I was at work and he would slander me online, via posts on social media. Slagging me off, sometimes directly, other posts were obviously meant to garner sympathy from his many followers. Reinforce his suffering, bolster his ego and have others agree with him that I was wrong, I was a bad mother, I was mistreating him and his children and he deserved better.

I'd always receive a "sorry" the next day, posts online would be deleted. I'd try to go back to the original reason for the outburst so we could work through it, but he never wanted to, he'd said sorry and that was an end to it in his mind. I would ask if we could talk, if we were ok, the answer was always "there's nothing to talk about, we're fine" I was left feeling as if I was scalding a child and again that it was me in the wrong.

Nothing was ever resolved. Having read about it, this is also usual behaviour, if he'd admitted there was a problem, he'd had to have addressed it, faced himself and he didn't want to (couldn't) admit any of this was in any way his fault. It was all put down to stress, work stress, children making him stressed, he had to have a drink because of all the stress.

Once, I asked if he was sorry for how he'd spoken to me or for what he'd said, I already knew the true answer, whatever came out of his mouth.

I suggested couples counselling, to which he agreed and said he would arrange, but never did. Still I persevered, found a counsellor and arranged 6 sessions. We attended together and the sessions seemed positive, we both aired our views, no shouting, no denying facts and we'd set tasks to do in between sessions. Despite my efforts, nothing really ever came of what we'd discussed, I couldn't keep trying to fix things by myself. He always seemed more interested in his online social media life, his ecig, a bottle of red and the gym than our relationship and even his own children.

I shut down futher, my world became smaller, I could only have enough energy for so much. I had to solely focus on my daughter, work and maintaining the image to the outside world that I was fine. In this I also withdrew from his other children, I couldn't continue be the parent to them when they were with us, I had nothing left in me to give without support or input from their actual parent. I'm not proud of that, I obviously ensured they were fed, watered, clean and safe when they were in my home. I'd take them to the park or just out anywhere if he had been drinking and his anger was escalating, his youngest would come and sit with me and baby in the nursery, hiding, whilst he had screaming, swearing arguments with his two eldest.

I hid alot, I removed myself and baby often, we'd go anywhere to not be in the house with him. I wouldn't allow my daughter to witness any of it.

After reading alot to get all this straight in my head, what I'd done naturally as self defence, shut down, actually probably made some of his abuse worse. He was getting no reaction from me, no interaction, no nothing, and that to him was worse than anything he was getting no supply.

When I discovered he was cheating and had been for sometime, he flatly denied everything, told me that I was crazy and that I should stop being paranoid.
Despite the evidence I had, it was still me that was wrong. He still tried to convince me everything was fine.
He didn't want to rock the boat, I guess at that point he was having his cake and eating it. I was at home, doing the parenting, keeping the house, bringing in a wage, he had pretty children to show off when he wanted to, clean clothes, food in the fridge AND his replacement supply on the go.

In the end I just simply asked him if he wanted to keep trying or not. He didn't.

I felt both sadness and relief in that moment. Sadness for our daughter and for all my wasted effort, relief that the end was now in sight.

In the time between ending our relationship and him moving out of the house the abuse only escalated. I was shouted and sworn at on a daily basis, although I could no longer see the social media posts, as he'd blocked me, I knew that they were there and probably even worse than before. Painting himself to be the victim who has done no wrong and me the selfish evil stepmother who made it all fall apart and was now trying to deny him what was his.

How I remained calm in the moments that he was shouting in my face I have no idea, I wanted to shout and scream back but I knew that would only add fuel to his fire, give him real ammunition, back up his belief that his anger was my fault, that I'd truly done him wrong and drag me down to his level. I'd told myself long ago I would never argue in front of my daughter and I'd bite my tongue, swallow the fear inside me.

The strength and resolve that I found was found for my daughter, the only one I needed to protect through all this. I am strong enough to stand on my own two feet and in the bottom of my heart I knew I wasn't all the things he said I was. Only once or twice, before he moved out did I ever feel scared that he may actually physically hurt me during those blowups and only once did I shout back, even then it was only "SHUT UP!"

I'm sure comments is still made on social media or to a friend, about me, how terrible I was to him, what a bad person I am. Thankfully I don't really care what people think of me and I know my family and friends wouldn't believe what he says anyway. Somehow it still hurts though.

Occasionally I receive a shitty message from him too, but I think he knows now that I'm stronger than I look, that he can't hurt me.

He is seeing XXX officially now, has told people it only started once he was single. Wouldn't want to admit to cheating, might cast doubt on everything else he says. He's still not actually told me he's seeing her either, maybe because he knows that in doing so he'll be admitting that he had been lying to me, that he was in fact in the wrong and had tried to blame me instead.

I'm sure he's telling her she's saved him too, how his ex was terrible, lazy, selfish and mistreated him. Just as he did with me about his ex wife, speaking of whom...she has proof read this for me, we speak regularly, she's perfectly normal. She heard the same stories from him about his ex before her too. Wonder if I'll ever have similar conversations with his current partner?

Now, I still question myself sometimes, Was it me? Am I being paranoid? Am I doing the right thing? Do I need approval?
The worst thing is wondering if I will ever trust a man again, wondering if he has actually broken me somewhere inside.

It has taken me a long time to just become me again, to feel like I'm in control and that I'm doing the right thing by my daughter, to trust myself.