I have always said that if I were a victim of domestic abuse or violence at the hands of a loved one, that I would walk away. I just didn’t get how women would allow themselves or their children to suffer over and over again at the vicious hands of another.
That was until the other day.
On Sunday I posted a light hearted, humorous post called The Faulty Model, needing to offload the hurt I was feeling about an incident that had happened the night before.
The day after that post, the Faulty Model in question was around my house, apologising, shouting at me, then talking softly to me and trying to convince me that he was regretful, devastated and deeply shocked about the fact he had knocked me about the night before. I was already blaming myself anyway. After-all, I am a wayward person with a feisty and somewhat challenging personality. When I get drunk I do it in style and I can be a first class bitch. I even felt ashamed that a male friend of mine had called round out of the blue at an inappropriate hour, asking for me by name, apparently; naturally causing the suspicion that warranted the anger and abuse that followed.
I looked at my black eye, swollen, incredibly tender arm, and bruised legs, full of self shame – that I could have pushed someone so laid back, to lash out in such a horrible way, further more in front of my son. I lied to my son, telling him that the black eye was caused by my falling over drunk and that things weren’t as bad as they looked. He believed me, naturally.
All my friends have been warning me against being so stupid as to allow this person anywhere near me again. They pointed out that this wasn’t the first incident. A few weeks back, he pushed me over in the garden as I was trying to calm down a potential argument which could have woken my kids. Then last weekend, I found myself fearing for my life in a hotel room after he mistakenly thought he could take from me, what he wanted.
The latter incident, I also blamed myself for. I gave him the benefit of the doubt because I had led him on a sexual journey of excitement and adventure that he clearly didn’t understand. In hind-sight, there is no excuse for him not stopping. I used a safe word, 2 in-fact, and he ignored them. Of course I was going to be frightened for my life and maybe I was right to have been. Who knows what would have happened if the hotel manager hadn’t knocked the door. All that said, I heard from him the next day that he was in A&E after trying to take his life in the back of a police car, which racked me with guilt. I had taken him into that world, therefore I felt responsible.
I also felt responsible for what happened on Saturday night. I had really been looking forward to him coming home from his time out, which he needed in order to gather himself back together and visit his roots. Although I had been looking forward to him coming back, I felt quite happy being in the local pub, being a social butterfly whilst he was away and I did end up getting quite drunk, playing pool and having fun. As he arrived I was struck with guilt, that I had allowed myself to get drunk and for some strange reason, I ignored him when he got back. If he had have done that to me I would have gone nuts. Naturally he felt he had received a kick in the teeth. Later at home, I felt bad and invited him round. It was then we ‘made up’ and it was not long after that, my friend called round.
What ensued was a catalogue of accusations, that I was cheating on him etc. The rest was a blur. I remember being thrown around the room, I remember being thrown out of my house against a brick wall and I remember clutching my son as the faulty model tried kicking my door in. I hid behind a car, called my father who arrived and took my son away for the night.
The next morning I wake barely able to put any pressure on my arm, I notice a fat lip and black eye. Later in the day I notice bruises all over my calf muscles.
Monday Morning, Faulty Model had convinced me he was sorry, that he’d never done it before (except he had, twice to me) and that he would never do it again. I convinced myself that it was all my fault. I loved him, the sex was amazing, our teamwork was amazing and we were happy. I didn’t want to let him go.
Last night I barely slept, I had resigned myself to the fact that if I was going to continue seeing him (despite the fact our holiday was now a no-go, I had to cancel work because I couldn’t have his help any more and our children could no longer be friends), it was going to have to be in total secret from the world. Last night I missed him terribly. My bed felt empty and cold. I was insatiably horny and could think of no one else who could satisfy me. I missed his smile. I missed his soft skin. I missed his body.
This morning, my male friend got in touch with me. I asked him why he didn’t stick around. He told me he felt awkward and so he told the faulty model that he was looking for John and obviously had the wrong house. At this point I remind you that the barrage of abuse I received was due to the fact that, apparently, the male had asked for me by name, then scampered. When in-fact the truth of the matter is, that in the eyes of the faulty model, there was actually no reason to be suspicious at all. No reason to be jealous and certainly no reason to throw me here, there and everywhere.
Suddenly the words of my friends rang true. I realised that I had done very little to deserve the bruises I now wear. According to my friends, even if I had been cheating, I still didn’t deserve these bruises. My son didn’t deserve to hear lies telling him that I was on drugs. They are right. I didn’t deserve it in the first place, let alone now. Yet the Faulty Model was quite happy to use my own shame and insecurities against me in order to not lose me.
It doesn’t stop there. I have received yet more abuse today. Apparently I am a waste of space. He has posted sick notes through my door, which my son could have found. He is trying to manipulate me still, by saying he is now signed off sick for depression.
The scary thing is, as strong as I am, ( believe me I am one of the hardest mother f**king B*tches on this planet) I still felt like I owed him. I blamed myself. I believed that everything that has gone wrong, was my fault.
I am now totally gutted. How could someone I loved so dearly, be so nasty to me? How could he strike me, then call me every name under the sun because I haven’t bowed to him?
I tell you how, because he is insecure, a bully and he knows he has totally messed up the best thing he ever could have had.
If I didn’t have my friends, my inner strength and my delayed intuition, I could have easily been sucked into a full blow violent relationship.
Now, I understand.