Dv Survivor - Tumblr Posts

I wrote this years ago, and finally had it in me to search for the article properly. Apparently I was a little off on the title, but I remember the content well enough.

He read this as a list of accusations that he applied to me even when they didn’t. He should have seen me for my rotten core.

There is nothing of substance or value here; likely a severely misogynistic incel's fantasy world. So many trigger warnings, but if you're curious:

here it is, an article from 2013 written by a person who hopefully never breeds.

I need a breather

I was composing a post regarding him sending me snippits of an article ( generous term, since I seem to recall it being a reddit gem) entitled ”How to Know You’re Dating a Slut.”  It’s as charming as it sounds from what I remember but details will have to wait for another post. 

You see, I made a horrible, horrible mistake: I tried to search for the article.  Like, by typing the title above into Google.  

You should try it.  Actually don’t; it’s horrible. The results you get are just…. ludicrous.  I’m barely keeping myself from drowning in my own guilt and self loathing, and it was too much.

So that project above is on indefinite hiatus.  The internet is an awful place.  Who knew.

Edit:  Apparently I’ve already reblogged this.  I suppose that speaks to how bang on it is.

How It Feels

Part II: Emotionally Abusive Relationships

Picture the shittiest customer service job you’ve ever had. Customers are constant and you’re so overwhelmed you can’t think about yourself at all. Your personal life, your bodily needs (you don’t even get a lunch break; when was the last time you had water?) or your emotions. 

You’re expected to perform perfectly and to always keep a smile on your face, no matter what. You need to be polite and accommodating even if people are screaming at you, and even if people threaten you for no reason. 

Your boss thinks you’re an idiot and is constantly condescending and patronizing. He explains your own job to you and implies you’re incompetent, but to avoid offending him, you can’t defend yourself, you can only thank him for his ‘advice.’ He can snap at any minute and fire you, and you need the job desperately, because he has all kinds of contacts and influences in the community and will make sure no one ever hires you again. He makes it very clear that he owns you, but would never say so outright. 

You are not allowed to talk to anyone about how bad this job is, under contract. He considers it unprofessional and a threat to the success of his company, and has threatened to sue if any employees quit and talk about the reasons they quit. He has the power to make your life even worse than it is now. 

But outside the workplace, your boss is known as a philanthropist. He is generous and charismatic, and everyone constantly reminds you how lucky you are for getting the job. 

Now picture that feeling not just at work, but everywhere. This environment is your home. This person sleeps in your bed. They go everywhere with you, or demand you check in all the time. They know all your passwords. They look through your search history. They have access to everything you know and have and are. 

You still have to be polite, accommodating, apologetic, understanding, thankful. You still have to keep smiling.

I was off for a few months owing to covid. It was the first time I have taken an extended breath since I was a teenager.

It gave the trauma time to catch up to me. I feel it all. I am so damn tired.

Every fall my mental health dissolves. You can set your watch by it.

His name was Dan. That voice they're talking about. Mine was a real person

“Living with anxiety is like being followed by a voice. It knows all your insecurities and uses them against you.”

— Unknown

A quote.

Abuser, while insulting you, threatening you, dehumanizing you and/or beating you: Stop making me look like the bad guy

If I was still with him during the pandemic and lockdown I am sure he would have murdered me by now.

Daymare

I had one yesterday. That's the only way I can describe it.

I was back in the house Spring 2015ish. I was in my current headspace, though, like I used a time machine. I was hellbent on getting out as soon as possible, but I figured it would take me two days to orchestrate.

My plan was detailed: how to get and where to find boxes (cold room - he rarely went in there), how to move everything, (bring some to folks night before) who would help me, (two friends chomping at the bit to get me out of there), and what I would do differently (take ALL of my things, sell the house, take my share)

What made it horrible was the realization that I had to suffer him for that time.  

I'd have to talk to him. I'd have to have sex with him to keep him from being suspicious, and then share a bed.  Then I'd have to break the news: he’d no longer have me to abuse.

The feelings I had knowing he was near came back by a fraction, and I was sick. I spent over an hour huddled in the shower.

How on earth did I live like that for so long?

Lights at the end of tunnels

From time to time I receive messages from survivors at various stages in the recovery process.  

First, I am honoured that you trust me with your stories (some of you telling someone for the first time!), and that you think I may have something of value to say to you.

Second, I’m sorry I don’t always respond promptly.  I can get overwhelmed easily and that slows my response time.  Sometimes by, like, months.

Third, if there is one thing I wish I could have convinced myself of earlier it would be that being alone is not the worst.  It takes practice, but it can be pretty great.

You are awesome (yes, I promise), and spending time nurturing your interests can be an amazing part of your healing.  Someone tried to erase my personality; I took it back, piece by piece, doing new things or re-discovering the old ones that make me happy.  

Being beholden to no one is freedom, and it was important for me to get to know, sort out, and trust my head again.

Alone there are so many possibilities that don’t exist in the vacuum of an abusive relationship.  So many possibilities for a content, peaceful existence. 

I hope you believe me.

Happy New Year.

Another Checkpoint

Five years out of that house today.

Took two more to rid him from my life.  As of tomorrow it has been 156 weeks no contact.

Life is completely different, and I am so utterly grateful.

I try not to throw people with other mental health issues under the bus, so I used my superb editing skills and changed the title a bit.

It’s so extraordinary otherwise.

Au revoir

The memories feature on Facebook can feel like a kick to the stomach sometimes.  But they can also remind you that you were brave enough to take out the trash.  Even if it took you a little longer than it should have.   

Double Standards Series - Episode 5

He could be pretty gross.  

His belching ranged from ground shaking to ear piercing.  He farted anywhere he liked, and as loud as he wanted.  He would hock loogies all the time.

This is all forgivable.  Human beings are disgusting.

The problem was, that it wasn’t forgivable for me to be human.  One time, I had snot on the outside of my nose in public, and he made such a big deal about it so other people noticed to embarrass me.

I didn’t fart in his presence.  Ever. I would go outside, or go to the washroom, or go to any room away from him where he wouldn’t hear it.  

Still anytime there was ever a bad smell, it was always be my fault.  He would look at me with disgust on his face and say my name with disdain.  He would then accuse me of lying and force me to apologize when I insisted that I didn’t ‘do it.’ It was extra special if he could do it in public.

This might sound trivial, but it was a big part of my life.  And it was humiliating. I had to fit into a neat and tidy and wholly unrealistic image of femininity that meant that I couldn’t even be comfortable in my home.  

It reminded me how completely inept I was at being a woman and a wife.

Damned if you don’t

I hated running into people we both knew after he’d kicked me out.

He'd sent me to buy him dinner one night and his cousin was at the restaurant.  In retrospect I am confident she would not have known that I was aware she was there.  To be honest, I saw her for only a moment before looking away and my back was to her for the remainder of my time there.

I was his ex as far as his family was concerned, and wasn’t keen on an awkward conversation. Plus, I didn’t see who her companion was; she could have been on a date. So I kept to myself, went to the bar, paid, and left.

I told him that I saw his cousin with someone. If I ever went anywhere and someone told him that they saw me, but I didn’t mention it, he’d lose it.  He’d say I was withholding information and this was evidence that I was the same monstrous slut I always was.

So I told him and as per the usual, he used that information to torture me. 

He did some investigation to see who his cousin was with.  He made a point to call and tell me his sister and his cousin were very offended that I chose not to say hello. He said they congratulated him on being rid of me.

That’s possible I guess. But I’m calling bullshit. Just another opportunity to make me feel terrible.

Buttered up.

Before we moved out of the house, I made a breakfast sandwich for him at his mother’s place.

I usually fry eggs in butter, and for him, I used more than usual because he likes his eggs well done and I didn’t want it to stick.  I also added peppers and onions to the pan, which had temporarily increased the visible liquid.  If you’ve ever even put something in the microwave, you know that liquid cooks off.  

He started streaming that it was going to be greasy and disgusting.  That I was a fucking moron and I couldn’t do anything right.  

He did it in front of his mother, who told him to shut up when people make food for you.  He glared at her until I finished his breakfast sandwich

He assured me he wouldn’t eat it.  I told him if he didn’t want to eat it, then I would.  That was sufficient motivation; he wouldn’t want me to get to eat without him, that would mean I was more special than him or something.

Then he praised it.  It was delicious.

Do you think there was an apology?  You already know the answer to that.

Some nights he would wake me up multiple times telling me I was snoring.

I do snore. But a few times he did it while I was still awake. He thought i was sleeping and wanted a reason to wake and shame me.

I have gone 194 weeks without contacting him.

Unfortunately, I still think about him often, but everytime I do I try to remember to take a deep breath and focus on exhaling fully.

It releases my chest muscles; a thing that I could never do with him.

The memories I have of him and the abuse blur and refocus seemingly at random, so it can be difficult to consciously remember a specific thing at a given time.

But that feeling of my ribs being seemingly sewn shut endures and serves as the reference point for my progress.

It's been 194 weeks and I can breathe now.

Or what?!

On rare occasions, I would take the tiniest step toward defending myself.

“Please don’t talk to me like that.”

The response was always the same.  

“Or what?!”

“Or nothing? Just don’t.”

He did not know how to navigate a world without threats.  I didn’t use a threat to establish a boundary and he interpreted that as a green light to continue the behaviour. He thought I offered nothing of value if I didn’t see it as something to withhold.

Don’t get me wrong here.  There are consequences for your actions, and repeated disrespect in a relationship probably should end in its termination. But a constant tit for tat situation is petty at best, and that’s not the type of partner I am.

So I never took that bait and I think I disappointed him with my response.  He had probably rehearsed a nasty retort to  “Or I’ll leave you” that he never got to use. Pity.

I cannot tell you how much kind, supportive and gentle friends matter in the struggle to free yourself. I have said it before and I will say it again, true friendship is the world's most underrated relationship.

I know that having a friend who's in an abusive relationship puts you in a terrible position, and you probably feel powerless as you watch them suffer. But believe it or not, you're not as powerless as you think. My friends played a pivotal role in my escape.

Support means everything.

I survived an abusive relationship. At this point I have talked to and worked with hundreds of people in abusive relationships.

Guess what? telling us to leave never works.

ever.

I could write a post about ways to help people leave.

I’ll probably do that one day.

but don’t be that person in the mean time.

He stole 13 years from me.

That's more than 1/3 of my life; 36% to be exact. I'd have to be in my 130s for that to drop below 10%.

The math hurts.