When people talk about domestic violence the thing that comes to mind is the physical violence that is what many assume domestic violence is, it isn’t.
Domestic violence is any kind of abuse that affects the recipient, it is emotional, verbal, financial and sexual as well as physical, each damaging, each horrendous to experience.
I never imagine I would be someone who would experience domestic violence, I had this naïve view that it would never happen to me, sadly it did.
When I first met him, he was charming, kind and so great to spend time with, it was like he was this amazing guardian angel, the thing was he was no guardian angel at all and very soon the question came, who the hell could protect me from him.
Each day it seemed was worse than the one before, his words turned from love to hatred, he put so much energy into bringing me down that before long the very real fear of would he try to kill me was at the forefront of my mind.
He was very clever; he would mix bad times with good times leaving me confused as to what to expect next. The times I put my hands over my face expecting yet another blow for him to only cuddle me. Then when I thought he was going to cuddle me so I left my face unprotected he would punch with speed and force that would knock me to the ground.
The mind games he played were relentless, those went deep and were what felt like on constant replay in my mind. The guilt he made me feel and that everything was my fault. The times he would come home smelling of another woman’s perfume with a challenging look in his eyes daring me to say something.
The financial trouble he got us into was staggering, bills left unpaid, final demands arriving daily until I paid the bills from my own account despite the fact from day one, we had set up a joint household account each paying the same amount in. Once the cycle of unpaid bills got to be the norm, I stopped paying into the joint account, just paid the bills from mine as they arrived. He went crazy over that as by doing that the extra money he had been using was no longer available to him.
Before long he could see that hitting me had lost its desired effect. So he changed his tactics to the verbal assault that he knew impacted me more.
I lost count the number of times he called me a whore, bitch, liar, and more, and still, I stayed as I hoped that one day this abuse would stop and that he would go back to how he was when we first met. I made so many excuses that he was being like this as life was tough for him right now, and you support those you love in good times and bad.
He didn’t change for the better, the abuse escalated, in his eyes, I was stupid, worthless and a blight on his life that he wanted rid of but couldn’t.
The words he used buried themselves deep into my mind, playing on repeat until I felt like I was going insane.
His idea of love was the most twisted thing I had ever seen, this shit life I was living just couldn’t be true, it only happened in movies, right?
But no this was real life and I knew that if I didn’t escape that he could very well one day kill me, as he had told me often enough, he could kill me and no one would ever find my body.
I thought he was my guardian angel, it turned out he was my worst nightmare, the demon from hell and he caused the biggest pain in my heart and soul and damaged my mind in the process.
He used his fists, his words, his mind games, sex, money and my emotions until I was nothing but a shadow of my former self.
I knew I wasn’t safe with him; I knew I had to leave, I was tired of the existence with him, tired of living on the edge wondering when my mind would finally snap.
So, I left with my sanity holding on by a thread, I had to do what was right for me.