This is how it starts. Where it leads depends on many things, but this is how it starts. Kind-hearted people have their totally normal sense of reality eroded until other abuses creep in and create more trauma.
The topsy turvy world the victim/survivor lives in due to the gas-lighting is such an integral part of the trauma bond. When you feel like you can’t even trust your own perceptions, you cling to the person supposedly helping you.
Be careful. Trust yourself first.
I’m beyond his reach now and it feels so good.
He could still physically get me and that niggling fear as I double check locks, bar my doors, make sure the baseball bats are strategically placed and such is always looming.
In the less tangible but no less impactful way he was still hanging over my life though? That’s gone. The last remnants disintegrated mere hours ago. I’ll always have scars, but now I’m free.
The physical signs were the first to dissipate. Breaking the trauma bond came next and was hard and took a long time. Reorienting my life and re-engaging with the best parts of myself came next and, slowly, my brain was able to focus and think clearly again.
I also took lots of naps. An injured psyche still needs to heal so naps are good. Also lots of talking to G-man (a.k.a. God). I think I made him laugh a lot ultimately. I thought I was figuring shit out. I’m sure it was adorable.
To start, after leaving, I could focus in short bursts and perform well patterned professional practices and simple daily bits. I would down gallons of coffee and pray just to answer an email.
With more time, more prayer, silent support from colleagues, more rest, more therapy and more writing (as evidenced in this entire blog), I regained my focus. Then my sense of humour. Then my sense of self and, by the time I got there, it was crunch time to pass required licensing exams to maintain my career.
I’m not a workaholic but my career does make me happy and does support all the other things in my life which also keep me happy. It all ties in together; it’s important.
The trauma of my time with Asshole put that in danger. Even just three months ago I couldn’t focus long enough to take in even one page of my textbooks, let alone one chapter of required learning material and the deadline was creeping nearer.
But today? Today I passed! I passed easily too. The automated testing system spits your score out to you in nearly real-time
So, I can focus again. I can dream big. I can sleep and smile and snuggle my Pumpkin and, when the time is right and if it is right, now there’s room in my life for more. More hobbies, fulfilment, adventures, people and love.
Asshole can’t take that from me. Apart from the nagging physical fears, I am free.
And in breaking with my typical practice of posting at least one week in advance, I am posting this on the very day I passed.
Today is my day – and I’ll rejoice and be grateful in it. *Wink*
This link resonated with me:
https://www.businessinsider.com/strong-confident-people-end-up-in-abusive-relationships-2017-8?amp=
I think the title may be slightly misleading but the general concept of people who are generally doing well in their life being targeted by people with abusive relationship patterns seems, anecdotally, to be true when I think of my own experiences and those of other people I know. In every other facet of life, they have their shit pretty much grouped together in order and appropriately labeled.
Maybe that’s even attractive to somebody who feels out of control and is looking to gain some?
I don’t know, but this article was great. Take a peek.
The usual morning three-ring-circus stunt getting Pumpkin ready, making myself look like I am not a hot mess mom and replying to Asshole’s ongoing messages routine was well underway.
Which one, which one, which one? I thought as I stood staring in my closet and biting my nails.
BBC Global News podcast was playing in the background as I held a towel around my torso and damp hair dripped down my neck. I was trying to decide which dress to wear as Brexit and Boris Johnson were wreaking havoc on the world … still.
I have nine versions of the same work dress. I jokingly call it my “uniform” but it really makes getting dressed for work easy. Black was Asshole’s favourite but today’s meeting wasn’t for him and I was feeling feisty.
Power red it is! Today could be big!
My meeting that day was with a big client who could help my business grow. A growing business meant I could help more people professionally and personally, provide better for my family and have the resources to give back to the community. It was a big deal.
Asshole was not entirely enthusiastic about my meeting and business pursuits most of the time but sort of half-heartedly played along.
Once I was ready, and while Pumpkin was finishing his oatmeal and watching Dino cartoons downstairs, I took a moment to snap a quick selfie.
Asking the man who wanted to be one of the most important people in my life for a little encouragement and ego stroking, I sent him the selfie and asked how I looked.
“Ummm” was the reply.
That’s it.
I wish there was more. I still have the message but I don’t have to check it to know that’s what it says because the shock of the unloving reply stuck a dart deep in my mind.
I did retort with a sarcastic thank you and told him I would take that as a compliment, rolling my eyes to myself, and grabbing clothes for my son for the day before heading back downstairs.
Eventually he said he liked “conservative” attire and after some back and forth conceded I looked good – maybe too good?
What?!
That dress could be straight from the 1950s or 60s and the pearls were from him. The dress isn’t even a modest scoop neck and it comes all the way down to my knees. Nothing about that dress is ostentatious other than the colour, especially after I add a blazer, but I look damn good in red. It sets off my own hazel-green eyes.
I don’t regret it – I still wear that dress. I do hate the moment of very brief hesitation I have now before putting it on but I still wear it.
Moments like this played out a million times over our brief time together. He had opportunities to build me up, shine light on me and show how much he treasured the big and small things I brought to his life and the world in general.
Instead he found more value in finding ways to tear me down or belittling my skills and accomplishments. I admit the little barbs wore on me over time. How could they not?
A good partner throws out a compliment and some encouragement. It’s not needy to expect your partner to help build you up, encourage you and help reflect a generally positive image of yourself back to you.
Why was it so hard for him to do that? Didn’t I deserve that?
Of course I did. I was easier to manipulate when I doubted myself a bit though and my expectations were thrown a little off kilter.
Love bomb and then demean – abuse and manipulation 101.
Truth and Recovery 