My one and only witness

Insanity- doing the same thing but expecting a different result.

I love this phrase.

In order to get better you have to change something which is perfectly logical.

Change, however is difficult.

The past two years of my life (of course there were gaps) I have been trapped in the relationship I previously discussed.

When I say trapped I'm not exaggerating, it is easy for you to look back on a past relationship and say how awful it was because of course you aren't together anymore.

This is someone who controlled what I wore, who I spoke too, where I went.

Being out of that is good don't be wrong but I am finding it difficult with the change.

I had someone who needed to know everything about me and whilst it is a relief not to have to go through that, it has left an empty space in my life.

There are times in the evening where I have no one to talk too, no one cares about my day, whether it was good or bad and so on.

I read once that being in a relationship or marriage even, is having someone witness your life.

I am just coming to terms with being my one and only witness.

One of the bravest and best decisions I've ever made.

Domestic abuse comes in different forms, you may not see the bruises but the psychological trauma leaves scars on both your brain and heart.

I never spoken about this before in great detail, mainly as the abuser frequently read my blog and I didn't want to aggravate him.

Even now typing to you, and I have shared some of my deepest secrets with you, I can feel a lump in my throat and I small voice is telling me to stop.

That is him.

That is months of continuous control and abuse engrained into my very being.

Here is the story.

At the start he was lovely, he said he was worried about me walking home from work 
so asked me to text him when I left and when I go there, I remember thinking how nice it was to have someone care.

In previous relationships I had always yearned to be defended, when other men grabbed or cat called me my previous boyfriends wouldn't react.

He was different, he would get into fights defending me, pull me closer and make sure I was ok.

I felt safe.

Until he became the one I was scared of.

If a man were to just look at me, I would feel the tight squeeze of his hand on my wrist and be terrified for when we get home to face his anger and accusations.

New Years Eve 2014/2015: 
I had been terribly ill with the flu and could barely get out of bed but I'd made reservations at a fancy restaurant for us. I dressed up despite having a fever and went out.

He was on his phone thorough the whole meal to his friend at a party a great distant away. 

I had hardly eaten any food due to feeling so faint and ill was focussing on just keeping awake.

I told him I could barely make it here let alone to a party across town.

He sighed and rolled his eyes, slammed his fist against the table and muttered "selfish cow".

I don't know whether it was my lack of sleep, illness or his disgusting behaviour but tears began to fill my eyes.

Aware I was in public and trying not to draw attention to myself I looked away to the hanging paintings in the restaurant.

The more I tried to stop crying, the more the tears began to fall it was like I could feel every one of his outbursts all at once, like punches to my stomach. 

We walked home in silence.

The ground was frozen over and all you could hear were the happy cheers of drunken people echo through the empty road.

When we got to the house, he went to bed without a word.

It was just 10.30pm.

I asked if he was going to stay up till midnight as we could still see the fireworks and count down on the tv.

He shouted in his aggressive voice that if he wasn't going to the party, he wasn't going to celebrate at all and my selfishness had ruined his night.

Still in my black dress I sat down in the darkness and cried.

I started to think of an escape plan, a way of me getting home to my parents but unfortunately there would be no taxis, everyone would of had too much to drink and I could hardly do an hours walk in my heels.

Instead I lay down on the cold leather sofa and cried myself to sleep.

You would think that alone would have been enough for me to leave but I stayed.

I stayed for 6 more months.

The controlling got worse.

It started as a text to let him know where I was, to a photo to prove I was where I said I was.

I wasn't allowed to see friends or talk to family about him, not the truth anyway.

He told me I wasn't allowed to speak to other men, that was when I first tried to break up with him, he told me that if I broke up with him he would kill himself.

I couldn't leave.

My friends told me that he was probably bluffing, but what if he wasn't? I would never be able to live with that guilt.

Daily accusations of cheating, followed by how no one would ever love me like he did.

No one would ever care for me like he did.

No one would ever put up with me, I was so difficult, so disgusting, No one else would find me desirable.

That if I left him I would die alone.

I did break up with him eventually, I firstly told him mum and dad so they could go round and make sure he didn't kill himself.

He contacted me a month ago saying how he was struggling and needed support.

Whilst it wasn't my place to do so anymore I couldn't just ignore him so I tried to help.

It was 10 o'clock I had just finished a 6.5 hour shift and was in tesco buying some dinner.

I had 5 missed called.

I answered the phone..

"Where have you been?"

"You finish work at 9.30 it is now 10 what have you been doing all this time?"

That is when I realised that I do not have the energy to do this all over again.

I am not being dragged back into that hell of a relationship.

I refuse to be treated that way again.

I hung up the phone and blocked his number.

One of the bravest and best decisions I've ever made.

"Amy, what are you doing up darling?"

She was woken by the front door slam shut, shaking the windows and every fibre in her being. The sound of shouting muffled by her closed door echoed through the house. 

In her Cinderella night dress she slowly creaked open the door, perched on the stairs and peered through the banister. 

Many 4 year old girls would have hid under the covers or under her bed, but not her. 

She tried to listen to what the arguing was about but it made no sense.

Her fathers voice was slurred and rambling, as if his words were pouring out of his mouth before his brain had a chance to sort them out.

Her mothers voice however was much more stern and thought out, speaking in lists and remaining calm despite her raised voice.

It was if her father couldn't stand the reasoning and through a beer bottle in anger which shattered on the wall.

Luckily his drunken state made his accuracy poor as it missed the mother by a few feet.

The little girl on the stairs covered her ears with both hands but continued to watch, her eyes not leaving her mother and trying desperately to remember what to do if she was hurt.

The nearest phone was behind her father so there was no way to get there without him seeing her.

As her father picked up another empty bottle and the mother shielded herself from the expected hit the little girl ran into the living room.

The bottle dropped on the floor, bouncing on the carpet and the mother turned around with tear filled eyes to see her little girl. 

The girl stood in the dimmed light in her pale blue night gown, one hand holding only her dolly, the other hand in a tight fist.

"Amy, what are you doing up darling?" her mother asked picking her up and holding her close.

The father stood in shock, suddenly aware of his actions and he turned away as to not face his daughter.

The girl hung tightly to her mother and wiped away her mothers tears.

She was carried up to bed and tucked in with a sweet kiss on her forehead.

As the parents got into their bed, neither speaking a word, the little girl climbed into the bed in between them both.

Creating a barrier between the two.

She continued this for the rest of the week.

The mother, concerned for her child's well being asked 

"Why won't you sleep in your own bed?"

The little girl replied

"Because I don't want daddy to hurt you"

and that was the moment the mother decided to leave the father. 

Sleep paralysis

I've had a rough week, coming back to an area where I feel in danger was never going to be easy.

Someday's it would take me till late afternoon to just leave my room, after having a sleep full of nightmares it was hard to grasp back what was reality.

To know that I was safe.

I suffer from sleep paralysis, a condition which is becoming quite common, it is where you are trapped in a nightmare and you can't move, you can't scream, you're paralysed.

It doesn't matter how much you try to wake yourself up it is no use.

It really is quite terrifying.

Everyone has their own deepest darkest fears, I've heard of people haunted by ghosts or zombies, murders in these nightmares.

It is obviously unique to each individual.

Mine as many of you know is being raped.

When the dream is so vivid that when you finally wake up from fear every time you try and fall back asleep you're back in that nightmare.

Can't escape it.

I remember once when experiencing one of these dreams I kept trying to scream but couldn't, I was trying to move, trying to wake myself up but all I could do was move my thumb slightly and that took so much energy.

I realise it probably seems quite pathetic for a grown woman to be this affected by nightmares.

The sub conscious mind is so much more powerful, whilst in reality if I were to feel anxious or have a flashback I could try reason with myself but in a dream, you can't do that.

You are trapped, you can't move, you can't scream whilst something that terrifies you more than anything in this world happens to you. Again.

I did the only thing I could do, I went to the doctors and have been referred for Cognitive Behavioural Therapy.

I'll take whatever help I can get.