I have spent a lot of my time in recovery trying to come to terms with the abuse that occurred in my marriage. From the start, my ex was incredibly jealous. We had terrible arguments but I always gave in to his demands, however crazy they were. I became used to keeping my eyes on the ground so as not to attract attention to myself and I suppressed my sexuality and womanhood.
After a while jealousy and the negotiations around what was permissible no longer dominated our relationship. I had adapted, but inside I was terrified. What if I was attracted to someone? Did that mean I didn't love my ex anymore? He didn't even have to interrogate me - I had the equivalent of the Spanish Inquisition going on in my head, and I would confess even the slightest pull I felt towards someone. Keeping secrets from him felt unbearable. I would bear all with the feeling of taking myself up to the gallows. Over the years, there were big crises and little ones, including me having to plead with him to forgive me for inadvertently saying something flirtatious to someone to conducting a full-on "emotional affair".
It seems ridiculous now, utterly laughable. How can I explain that I took on this absurd way of thinking, accepted this insanity? First of all I was young, 21 years old, and I was in a deep depression for which I was not receiving adequate treatment. I had just had a second abortion after getting pregnant from an unsuitable and painful liaison with a man. The abortion left me numb but full of self-loathing. My anxiety was so bad that for several months I barely left the house, finding it impossible to get on public transport. During this time, my ex was always there with me in my apartment. He talked to me and soothed me when I felt bad, giving me physical (not sexual) affection that I had been deprived of most of my life. I was deceiving myself and my friends about the relationship because the truth would have meant I would have to leave him - and that as the worst thing I could imagine happening. I had financial help from my parents but no emotional support. I thought I would sink so low that they would shun me and then I would end up drug-, alcohol-addicted, homeless.
For a long time I felt - and he still says this - that he rescued me from some terrible fate. I still struggle to disagree with this, even though plenty of people, including therapists, friends, even my current boyfriend, say he was only taking advantage of me.
It is complicated. Looking back I think he was very unwell himself, and the relationship was hopelessly codependent. He needed me as much as I needed him, but I didn't see this at the time. And yes - he did take advantage of my weakness to impose his insane rules about loyalty on the relationship, to make me behave in a way that suited his notion of honour and his insecurities. I should have walked away, but I simply did not have the strength to. The thought never even crossed my mind.
The abuse that happened towards the end of our marriage was for me much worse, but I will get into that another time.
What I wanted to say in this post is that reflecting on my own experiences has led to me think a lot about abuse in relationships in general, and I realised that I - like most of society - had a fairly limited understanding of what is a really complex phenomenon. Abuse can take so many different forms. In the public domain we are told of physical, financial and emotional abuse, but often what we are taught about domestic violence and abuse does not capture the whole picture and must leave many victims - and probably perpetrators - confused.
I certainly was confused if what was happening to me later (threatening me with taking my child away, prohibiting me from going out, repeated interrogations) was abuse because he said so often, and part of me believed him, that it was my fault, that I had brought this on myself with my behaviour. It was not until a meeting with a case worker at a domestic abuse charity that it dawned on me that this was "officially" abuse. Shaking with fear, I told her my story. She said: "I am sorry, Rosamunde, but that sounds like absolutely classic domestic abuse to me." She showed me a diagram, the "wheel of power and control" that described much of what had been happening to me.
Domestic abuse to me meant a man who batters his wife. That was it. And it seems many people still think like that. But there is overt and covert abuse, and they can be as terrible. Just because someone is mistreated in subtle ways does not mean it is not tantamount to severe abuse. Of course the severity of abuse varies but this should not solely be judged by the nature of the act (for example, hitting equals really bad, verbal insults not so bad). We need to take into account the impact on the victim. After all, what may terrify one person could theoretically leave another person cold.
But that is not where the misunderstanding of domestic abuse ends. There are so many misconceptions and prejudices. One thing I have encountered a number of times is a certain blame culture. The other day, someone close to me said: "if you had not tolerated the abuse, had you not let it happen, then the relationship would have been over a long time ago." I also had a therapist I barely knew suggest that I must have been complicit in the abuse, and perhaps this was a bit like sex for us.
I ditched the therapist immediately but as for my friend, I took a softer approach. I know why people in our society think this way - it is ignorance, perhaps mixed with some misogyny, contempt for the "weak woman" and male resentment at always being portrayed as the brute. But ultimately this is not helpful. Yes, had my mental health been better, had I not been afraid of losing my child, had I not been so isolated from my friends and so on, then I would have left sooner and avoided the whole sorry mess. But in my opinion, that is like saying to a man who was crushed by the train that if his leg had not been lame he would have escaped without injury. The logic of that is indisputable except that it implies that there was a choice in being hit by the train and staying in an abusive relationship . Even if people are objectively perfectly able, legally and socially empowered to leave a relationship, the key point is that they FEEL powerless and helpless. And that feeling is their reality. They must be helped to feel safe, offered protection and shown that there is an alternative to the hell that they are living. Staying alive and functioning in that kind of environment took so much strength that I began to accept it as my inevitable fate. This changed in my meeting with the case worker. Of course there are many other variables and circumstances too, including strong attachment to the perpetrator, in itself an extreme form of codependency and a mental health issue. Domestic abuse is not a lifestyle choice, it's not a choice at all.
I am not saying we should perpetuate victimhood. I found out myself that this can be extremely destructive and distorting, creating a cycle of yet more agony. But if abuse occurred, then there was a victim. It is for that victim to start on his or her personal journey out of the state of victimhood, to understand for themselves their part in what happened in their relationship. This is their recovery and concerns nobody but them. If they do not manage this, it is for a reason. Perhaps they are too traumatised and have not received the right kind of help. Perhaps their environment continues to be unsupportive. There will be as many paths as there are victims, and with the right kind of help most should be able to live better lives.
After a while jealousy and the negotiations around what was permissible no longer dominated our relationship. I had adapted, but inside I was terrified. What if I was attracted to someone? Did that mean I didn't love my ex anymore? He didn't even have to interrogate me - I had the equivalent of the Spanish Inquisition going on in my head, and I would confess even the slightest pull I felt towards someone. Keeping secrets from him felt unbearable. I would bear all with the feeling of taking myself up to the gallows. Over the years, there were big crises and little ones, including me having to plead with him to forgive me for inadvertently saying something flirtatious to someone to conducting a full-on "emotional affair".
It seems ridiculous now, utterly laughable. How can I explain that I took on this absurd way of thinking, accepted this insanity? First of all I was young, 21 years old, and I was in a deep depression for which I was not receiving adequate treatment. I had just had a second abortion after getting pregnant from an unsuitable and painful liaison with a man. The abortion left me numb but full of self-loathing. My anxiety was so bad that for several months I barely left the house, finding it impossible to get on public transport. During this time, my ex was always there with me in my apartment. He talked to me and soothed me when I felt bad, giving me physical (not sexual) affection that I had been deprived of most of my life. I was deceiving myself and my friends about the relationship because the truth would have meant I would have to leave him - and that as the worst thing I could imagine happening. I had financial help from my parents but no emotional support. I thought I would sink so low that they would shun me and then I would end up drug-, alcohol-addicted, homeless.
For a long time I felt - and he still says this - that he rescued me from some terrible fate. I still struggle to disagree with this, even though plenty of people, including therapists, friends, even my current boyfriend, say he was only taking advantage of me.
It is complicated. Looking back I think he was very unwell himself, and the relationship was hopelessly codependent. He needed me as much as I needed him, but I didn't see this at the time. And yes - he did take advantage of my weakness to impose his insane rules about loyalty on the relationship, to make me behave in a way that suited his notion of honour and his insecurities. I should have walked away, but I simply did not have the strength to. The thought never even crossed my mind.
The abuse that happened towards the end of our marriage was for me much worse, but I will get into that another time.
What I wanted to say in this post is that reflecting on my own experiences has led to me think a lot about abuse in relationships in general, and I realised that I - like most of society - had a fairly limited understanding of what is a really complex phenomenon. Abuse can take so many different forms. In the public domain we are told of physical, financial and emotional abuse, but often what we are taught about domestic violence and abuse does not capture the whole picture and must leave many victims - and probably perpetrators - confused.
I certainly was confused if what was happening to me later (threatening me with taking my child away, prohibiting me from going out, repeated interrogations) was abuse because he said so often, and part of me believed him, that it was my fault, that I had brought this on myself with my behaviour. It was not until a meeting with a case worker at a domestic abuse charity that it dawned on me that this was "officially" abuse. Shaking with fear, I told her my story. She said: "I am sorry, Rosamunde, but that sounds like absolutely classic domestic abuse to me." She showed me a diagram, the "wheel of power and control" that described much of what had been happening to me.
Domestic abuse to me meant a man who batters his wife. That was it. And it seems many people still think like that. But there is overt and covert abuse, and they can be as terrible. Just because someone is mistreated in subtle ways does not mean it is not tantamount to severe abuse. Of course the severity of abuse varies but this should not solely be judged by the nature of the act (for example, hitting equals really bad, verbal insults not so bad). We need to take into account the impact on the victim. After all, what may terrify one person could theoretically leave another person cold.
But that is not where the misunderstanding of domestic abuse ends. There are so many misconceptions and prejudices. One thing I have encountered a number of times is a certain blame culture. The other day, someone close to me said: "if you had not tolerated the abuse, had you not let it happen, then the relationship would have been over a long time ago." I also had a therapist I barely knew suggest that I must have been complicit in the abuse, and perhaps this was a bit like sex for us.
I ditched the therapist immediately but as for my friend, I took a softer approach. I know why people in our society think this way - it is ignorance, perhaps mixed with some misogyny, contempt for the "weak woman" and male resentment at always being portrayed as the brute. But ultimately this is not helpful. Yes, had my mental health been better, had I not been afraid of losing my child, had I not been so isolated from my friends and so on, then I would have left sooner and avoided the whole sorry mess. But in my opinion, that is like saying to a man who was crushed by the train that if his leg had not been lame he would have escaped without injury. The logic of that is indisputable except that it implies that there was a choice in being hit by the train and staying in an abusive relationship . Even if people are objectively perfectly able, legally and socially empowered to leave a relationship, the key point is that they FEEL powerless and helpless. And that feeling is their reality. They must be helped to feel safe, offered protection and shown that there is an alternative to the hell that they are living. Staying alive and functioning in that kind of environment took so much strength that I began to accept it as my inevitable fate. This changed in my meeting with the case worker. Of course there are many other variables and circumstances too, including strong attachment to the perpetrator, in itself an extreme form of codependency and a mental health issue. Domestic abuse is not a lifestyle choice, it's not a choice at all.
I am not saying we should perpetuate victimhood. I found out myself that this can be extremely destructive and distorting, creating a cycle of yet more agony. But if abuse occurred, then there was a victim. It is for that victim to start on his or her personal journey out of the state of victimhood, to understand for themselves their part in what happened in their relationship. This is their recovery and concerns nobody but them. If they do not manage this, it is for a reason. Perhaps they are too traumatised and have not received the right kind of help. Perhaps their environment continues to be unsupportive. There will be as many paths as there are victims, and with the right kind of help most should be able to live better lives.
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