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Hi – I don’t know if anyone else has ever done this. I’ve written my ex a letter. I have no plans to ever share it with him. But it as a way of getting out some of the emotions I still carry.
I do still feel the need to share it. And I hope this might resonate with some people here.
It could be triggering for some. So please don’t read if it could be for you
Dear Ex,
When we were first dating I often wrote to you. At the time because I didn’t have the confidence to express my feelings. And now, really it is no different. I also have no desire to open a can of worms between us. I know if I tell you these things, it will likely come with denial. Or anger. Or potentially telling me I’m mad.
Why do I address this to you then? You are the only other person that lived what happened between us. There is no one else that knows the full detail. There is nothing in me that wants to relive that detail for anyone else. To justify it. But, there is something that burns in me with fear, truth and maybe retribution. A story that wants to be told. Something that wants to say, it wasn’t just a push, it was never like that, you were in full on attack mode.
(timeframe removed by Moderator) it is fair to say you said a lot. What you didn’t know on that day is that I had already opened my own old wounds with regard to the violence that you inflicted.
I check myself here. Because I have reworded this so many times. I have written the violence between us. But that ultimately isn’t true. I wasn’t violent to you. I never started it. I only ever tried to get away. And each time you totally overpowered me. You told me that you didn’t think our time was over. Which hurts so much. Because it invalidates everything that brought us to this place. It makes it irrelevant. Because you still think I’d put myself back in that situation.
The first time you were violent, feels like yesterday. I’m not sure why but (specific detail removed by Moderator) drove me home. Completely innocently. He then went home to his girlfriend. I walked into that flat and your face was pure anger. Your eyes were red. You spat at me as you shouted, pure jealousy. You pushed me. Held me against the wall. Against the wardrobes. Stopped me moving away. Again and again whilst you shouted at me. The only feeling I have about that night is shame. I didn’t live with you then. I could have gone back to my flat.
It is paralysing when someone you love, and you think loves you, is violent. It takes your breath away, literally and emotionally. The only sense you can find is that you deserved it. Nothing else is logical. It can’t be rationalised.
(timeframe removed by Moderator) the first time you disappeared, I went to work. I didn’t know where else you could be. (specific detail removed by Moderator) All attention swung to you and how you were feeling. That day, I was also due to meet your family (specific detail removed by Moderator). I agreed to come to (specific detail removed by Moderator) so you didn’t do anything silly. And you swore it would never happen again. I believed you. It did happen. (number removed by Moderator) seperate times. Writing this was never about detailing what happened. But about trying to express the feelings of turmoil it has left me with. To get underneath why I struggle to accept and therefore can’t move on. The time you strangled me. The most difficult time to leave in the past. My social media tells me all the time that you have to accept to move on. But how do you accept feeling like the person you live with, could actually kill you. And staying in that situation.
It’s fear I feel when I think about that. If I close my eyes I can be there. Reliving it over and over again. Feel your breath on my face whilst I struggled to catch mine. The anger and jealousy in your bloodshot eyes. I can hear you calling me (specific detail removed by Moderator). Time is weird when I think of it now. I know it went on for at least (specific detail removed by Moderator) minutes as my watch recorded it as exercise. But time stands still when the edge of your vision starts to blur. And there’s spots everywhere as you start to disappear. I still don’t believe you wanted to kill me that night. I do believe that you wanted to scare me. You wanted me to know you were in control. You wanted to put me in my place. I have wanted to believe that you were drunk and it wasn’t you. But I do now accept that can’t be the case. The way you pinned me was not an accident. It was calculated and with knowledge of exactly how to make me physically powerless. That night left me numb. I didn’t know how to move on. I didn’t know how to ask for help. I wanted you to step up. But the more I withdrew. The more you acted out. I didn’t know what gaslighting was until I started counselling. I didn’t know what a n********t was. Your behaviour during that time was criminal. And I do wish I’d reported you to the police.
Deep down, I know I didn’t report you because I just wanted to be loved. I loved our family, I still do. I wanted to be shown care and understanding. And the affection you could show me back.
I so often thought that I was the one going mad. That day to day reality or emotions could be so varied.
One day you loved me. You supported me and were proud of me. The next you made life impossible. You sulked. Shouted. Argued irrationally. Walked out. What I do think is odd. Is that it’s actually the suicide thing that makes me feel angry over anything else. You played that card on me multiple times during and after we separated. But that last time, you managed to conjure up all these people around you. They fed you, comforted you, and listened to you. Poor Ex, you’d lost the love of your life. No one pointed out it was your actions that lead to this. I picked up the pieces for our children, on my own.I have a note at home that you wrote to me. It’s a promise you made that our daughters place is with her mummy. There are a lot of words in this letter. But none that compare to the pain of leaving my girls with you. Knowing the fear you are capable of creating. I rationalise those thoughts, I know their lives are better having a daddy. I even worked with X to repair her relationship with you. But, it’s truly brutal every time I leave them. It has to be numbed because the pain of what you could do is over powering. My children are by far the greatest achievement I will ever know. They taught me to know and love unconditionally.
Please let this be the end of it all. Let the pain be in the past. Please let’s give them the best life they can have. One where they are free to grow and challenge and love. Where they can be authentically who they are meant to be.
Please let the violence and coercion be our past. Not our present or future.
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