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.

2008- A daydream

2008

I move the pasta across my plate with no intention of eating it, I have a few bites for taste and wait for an adequate time to pass so I can leave the table without drawing attention to myself.

Not that I would anyway, I always ate alone whilst my parents sat in a separate room, my siblings were wither too young to eat at the table or at boarding school so it was just me.

I scrape the food in the bin and cover it up with other rubbish, again not that anyone would notice but I wasn't going to risk the lecture and abuse I'd receive if anyone found out.

I gently walked up the stairs (I was frequently shouted at for making noise even if it was just my footsteps) and shut my bedroom door.

My bedroom had just a single bed in, too small to fit anything else. 

I once had the larger room but offered it to my younger siblings, hoping it would help me become part of the family, it in fact made things worse. I was now shut off in the box room.

My mother had beautifully decorated it from the Laura Ashley catalogue, it looked like a guest room.

That was the issue, it wasn't my room.

The walls were floral in a duck egg green and curtains my mother had sewn to size herself.

I wanted to be grateful but this wasn't my room.

I wasn't allowed posters on the walls or anything that could express my identity. 

I had a beautiful mirror on the wall, with delicately painted flowers on the frame, the mirror however was covered by a pillow case.

After weeks of verbal abuse from both school and home I couldn't stand to see myself in the mirror anymore.

All I could see was my big nose, my frizzy curly hair, my bad skin and fat cheeks.

The words of the bullies imprinted on my brain, tainting every thought I had. 

Unable to cope with my own thoughts I lay on my bed and did the same thing I did every day.

I'd put in my headphones with the volume of full to drown out reality.

I would imagine what it would be like if I was pretty.

What it would be like if people liked me.

I'd imagine what it would be like to have a family that greeted me when I walked through the door.

What it would be like to have someone on my side, to not feel completely alone.

Not eating was my own version of self harm.

I could do it silently, discretely, I didn't want to draw attention to myself, whenever that happened I was always called "Selfish" "Ugly" "Horrible" or a "Bad person".

I never really understood where that came from, the insults weren't relevant to whatever they were shouting at me for but none the less it leaves a mark.

It may sound strange, but lack of food gives you this high feeling, numb and cut off from reality.

It makes those comments that much easier to take when you're drifting in and out of a daydream.

A daydream where you are anyone other than yourself.


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This is about my teenage years and whilst my family may not have acted well towards me they are good people and we are in a much better place now. This post is not here to make people feel guilty or point fingers, it is to demonstrate how I became the person I am now and how the problems I am having now are linked to previous events.

I felt terrified

I find myself out of sorts this time of year more than others, as many of you know I have been struggling with a sense of self, unable to characterise who or what I am.

The things I have seen or done, the things considered brave or courageous, were not by choice.

Of course there is always an element of choice, how I acted to the situation for example but being put in that situation in the first place, that wasn't my choice.

It was just the way the dice rolled, the cards were dealt, that is life.

I had no desire to see those things, believe me my life would be much simpler if I wasn't haunted by the nightmares. 

The flashbacks.

Sounds and smells are the things that truly overwhelm me,

A certain smell of aftershave (I haven't figured out the exact make).

All it takes is for someone wearing it to walk past me and I can feel his hands around my wrist.

I can feel the bruises forming, that intense pain and fear.

I can feel his breathe against my ear.

I turn numb, unable to see anything around me, it all turns dark.

I try and control my breathing but I'm overcome by panic and fear, desperately fighting to be back in reality.

Fighting with your own mind.

The sounds are linked to a different flashback.

There isn't a trigger, it just happens sometimes.

I can hear the bang. I can't really describe the kind of bang it was because it is nothing like I'd ever heard before.

Loud enough to make your whole body shake.

Followed by the screams.

The blood curdling screams.

The screams that echoed throughout the platform.

The final flashback is again just sounds.

Again a scream, singular.

There is a difference between a scream of fear and a scream of pain.

A scream of pain from someone you love is just heartbreaking.

When in a heartbeat you would take that pain for them.

You would do anything to take it away.

But I couldn't.

The only thing I could do is be there.

Perhaps the things I witnessed and my reactions could be considered brave,

Fighting off an attacker,

Watching someone take their life,

Being there for my sister when she was terminally ill,

I'll let you into a secret,

When those things happened,

I didn't feel strong or brave.

I felt terrified. 

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What I want

"Oh no Amy's having a rant again"

Oh shhh you've missed me really. Now I know I was moving onto the Vlogging side of things but there's some things that just need to be written down. 

Mainly because I rant and ramble.. Oh look I'm doing it again...

So I have had a string of heart breaks and whilst I would like to consider myself a modern day Bridget Jones, I am unfortunately self inflicting by attracting or being attracted to the wrong kind of guys.

I'm so focused on finding someone who will want me, this train wreck of a person, I've let my standards slip.

Not in a appearance kind of way but in who they are as a person.

Now I am going to tell you some truth that all my single readers want to here.

You are not going to die alone.

There are billions of people in the world and one of those people is going to fall in love with me and say "I can't believe those guys couldn't see what I see, they lost out on the most amazing girl"

and I'll be like "Yeah they're fucking twats"

Ok so maybe it won't go exactly like that... but you get my drift.

So many people are so terrified about being alone they hop from one relationship to the next, never truly figuring out who they are or what they want in a partner.

They settle rather than be alone and wait for the right one to come along.

That's not going to be me, and if you're also single don't let the Christmas/NYE blues get you down, they're out there.

Anyway back to my point here is a list of things I want in a future partner and I'm NOT gonna settle.

1. Good heart.

Now I'm not expecting a saint, no ones got a heart of gold but I mean someone who is nice to the waiter at the restaurant (Little tip there- how to tell if someones a good person), someone who will help carry a pushchair up the stairs at a train station. I mean I do all these things, they better do it too.

2. Been through hell

I don't want someone who has had a perfect life. I don't want someone who has never experienced any kind of tragedy, I know that sounds strange but there's this bravery and maturity that comes from this. I find even with friends it is hard to connect with someone who has never felt true heart break, it does change you and makes you a better person. I basically want to marry Harry Potter.

3. Easy to talk too

You know you meet these people who right from the beginning could talk like you'd know each other your whole life. It just works, it's so easy so natural That's what I want, someone who I can be completely me with (and by that I mean be the weird person I truly am and hopefully they'll also be weird)

4. Make me laugh and laugh at themselves.

If you know me, you know how much I laugh at myself- it's all the time. I am so clumsy and do the most ridiculous things where you just have to laugh and I'm not going to be cool and try act like nothing happened- no, I will tell you exactly how stupid I am even if I was the only one that saw. If you can make me laugh, I'm sold. Sometimes I struggle to smile so finding someone who can make me cry with laughter is very important. 

5. Physically attractive

Oh come on now, I had to be a little bit shallow somewhere. I'm not talking Ryan Gosling how about a beautiful tall man with blue eyes? No? In all seriousness if they can do the first four I'll find them attractive no matter what colour their eyes are.

(Btw this isn't a job description, please don't start messaging me your CVs saying you have all the right qualifications)

MAN I SOUND SO LAME.

Oh well it's done now, the fact is I'm not searching for this person, I am done with dating.

They can find me. 

Or I'll be crazy cat lady.

Either way I won't be alone!

Blog love

xxx