My Story.

[Dillusionalworld]

I’m The Victim

In today’s society, where woman power and strength is valued and advertised freely, it’s no longer acceptable to call yourself a victim of domestic abuse. I’ve had people tell me not to call myself a victim but to say I’m a survivor. But, I am a victim and I feel no shame in saying that.

I was targeted; I was mentally, physically, emotionally, financially and sexually assaulted by a man who pretended to love me.

Why is there a stigma in saying that I am a victim? Why should I tell people I am a survivor? I’m not a survivor. I’m still a victim and I’ve been traumatised by what happened and that’s only been reinforced by the lack of police help, the lack of help through my landlords, the lack of understanding from social workers and the courts – to them it was my fault.

In years gone by, women would keep silent for the fear of the shame that would be brought upon them and their families. I understand that shame. Only my shame has been created through others not believing what I have been through. I don’t think my abuser even knows how to feel shame or knows what it is.

Today I tell my story, because I am no longer afraid of the monsters who victimise us. Mine still looms over my life like an evil presence just waiting to pounce. But the day he does will be the last chance he ever gets.

In (detail removed by moderator) I met a man at (detail removed by moderator). I was recently separated from my Husband due to his infidelity, so trust issues were there. This man made me feel worthwhile again. He made me feel like a princess, he spoilt me, took me out, introduced me to his friends and family and within (detail removed by moderator) he’d moved in with me.

The warning signs were already there, but I couldn’t see it. Call it rose tinted glasses or whatever you will. I was naive. After this came the arguments, then the suspicion. He’d regularly check my phone to see who I’d been messaging, I quickly learnt it was best not to have one. He made me feel sick to my stomach when he questioned my outfit choices, or why I was wearing make up and for whom? Was I really doing all of these terrible things he said?

As a keen (detail removed by moderator) I adored my (detail removed by moderator), but he encouraged me to sell one, and the money was used for a holiday abroad. The other one I was prevented from visiting on a daily basis. Luckily she was in the care of a wonderful lady who I eventually signed her over to. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her why I couldn’t visit, why my (detail removed by moderator) was being neglected by me. It broke my heart. I still haven’t told people why I never visited, someone even tried to call the RSPCA on me but I was trapped. They came out and said my (detail removed by moderator) was fine, which she was. I will never to this day understand the reasoning behind it all. What did he think I was doing when I was going to visit my (detail removed by moderator)? We were in a small village, secluded by (detail removed by moderator) from any nearest town.

The penultimate display of his true intent came not long after I discovered steroids in his (detail removed by moderator). I was also in the wrong for discovering his steroid usage. This then led to the discovery of his illegal drug usage. At first I thought it was something simple such as recreational cocaine use, which appeared to be rife within our communities, but it turned out to be much more sinister that I wouldn’t discover until much later. He was using crack cocaine and also dealing too. Of course this affected his behaviour, so much so that our first evening out together he left me in a different village. I had to get a lift back home. The reason? Because I was talking to (detail removed by moderator) for too long he accused me of “flirting”. That was a serious note to self: don’t talk to other people for too long.

Soon out first (detail removed by moderator) came around and of course he took drugs with his friends. Ecstasy, MDMA, Cocaine and whatever else I hadn’t noticed. I on the other hand was fine with a limited amount of alcohol. We went to a large party and I was told in no uncertain terms that if I was to venture to the toilet alone and happen to do something I shouldn’t he would slit my throat.

Now at this point you’d be thinking ‘why doesn’t she leave him then?’ I was unknowingly at this point completely controlled by him. He was even my source of income, after he convinced me I needed to leave my job after I began suffering with panic attacks and was placed on beta blockers. Little did I know, he was the reason for everything.

(detail removed by moderator) passed and I stopped hearing from friends, which wasn’t all that surprising as I hadn’t spoken to any one for months. During those days my family barely heard from me. If I wanted to visit my Mum and stayed too long he accused me of leaving and doing something else with someone else. He started dropping me off everywhere and picking me up. When your life becomes that restricted, you soon begin to wonder ‘what is the point?’. I became a shell of myself.

The violence began. Little things at first. A shove here, a push there. Then it escalated to the point where bruises were left, but it was never the face, he was too clever for that.

After the breakdown of my marriage I hadn’t even thought about divorcing my Husband. But, having someone else’s name, being married to someone else was too much for him and he paid for my divorce. My Husband wasn’t exactly quick to sign the papers, so I was marched around there while he was intimidated; bullied into it. I never wanted that. A part of me deep down was screaming for help and praying that my Husband would save me from this monster, take me back – because no matter what happened in our relationship it was better than what I was going through then.

My home village was no longer good enough. I gave up my tenancy and we moved where he wanted to be: back where every member of his family and friends lived, where I had no one.

I desperately wanted to work, I wanted some kind of life for myself, a reason to live for to get out of bed for and a way to save money for an eventual escape. But that wasn’t allowed. I couldn’t even take a voluntary job in a local charity shop. Then college came along and I was accepted on to the higher education course. Naturally he had to take me there and collect me every day. I knew better than to be caught talking to any men on my course or even mention any males.

My first assignment for my history class I gained a A* and I remember sitting at my desk in the spare bedroom thinking I could achieve anything, yet when I put pen to paper to write a poem nothing but darkness came out. His vile poison was infecting every part of my life. This wasn’t a life; it was an existence.

(Detail removed by moderator) came around and he proposed to me. I casually remarked at the large box under the (detail removed by moderator), imagining it to be a (detail removed by moderator) etc. That was the wrong assumption to make as he flew into a rage accusing me of looking inside the box, which of course I had rightly guessed. Inside there was a ring waiting amidst all of the boxes. Of course everyone was happy for us, as outwardly we were “the perfect couple”.

The violence became worse, the long nights especially. Whenever his drug usage peaked I was forced to stay awake to be his plaything, someone to talk to or abuse. I was forced to wear all manner of skimpy outfits for his pleasure. We never made love, it was always the same monotonous routine that I became accustomed to. Forced into whenever I refused. I was tired, and I knew that refusing him in any way would lead to more abuse.

I tried to leave. I even hid from him. I could always tell when he wasn’t happy. This horrible smirk would creep across his face and I knew to run or please him in any way so he wouldn’t hurt me. One evening I even hid behind the curtains in the bedroom, balancing with my bare feet against the window ledge. I could hear every awful word he muttered. He was seething as he left. I was terrified.

Of course with every abuser they also know how to put on the charm. He lavished me with expensive gifts and perfumes. Bought me sexy underwear and outfits for the bedroom. He would spoil me most nights to sweets and treats from the shop. Especially when he’d really hurt me.

Looking back, the things I thought were important at the time, really weren’t. I didn’t want to have to leave and leave all of my furniture behind, as I owned nearly everything we had. That was my life I had built for myself before he even came into the picture. It seems foolish to me now, to worry about material things.

I fell pregnant. He’d spoken about it and I was forced into stopping my birth control. Yet the day I discovered I was going to have a baby I bought a (detail removed by moderator) as I had no money, took the test in (detail removed by moderator) toilets and cried my eyes out, but not in a good way.

(Detail removed by moderator) he’d driven me to college, of course I’d done something he didn’t like and he screamed at me in the car, foaming at the mouth and hitting my head. The words (detail removed by moderator) leaving his mouth and stinging my heart.

I was too scared to tell him in person so I called him. He was fine. The abuse stopped, for a short while at least.

When I was (detail removed by moderator) pregnant I did something else he didn’t like, not that I could tell you what it was. I remember running to the bathroom, and getting there just in time to close the door and hide behind it but he barged his way in and caught (detail removed by moderator) I screamed and he backed off and left shouting it was my fault, I made him like that.

I rang my ex Husband. Told him everything, hoped he could help me. I even spotted a car that I thought was his later on outside, but he was there behind me, looking over my shoulder seething. Questioning me over who the cars outside belonged to. (Detail removed by moderator) I broke down. I tried to leave. I fled down the stairs and he dragged me back up them by my hair. I was trapped.

Don’t ever ask someone why they didn’t leave their abuser, what you should really be asking them is ‘how many times did you try to leave’, and the answer will most likely be a very different one. I lost count.

I ran away to our nearest town. By this time my college venture was over as once more he’d forced my hand. I had no income, and what little I did have he took. But I had no where to go. I didn’t know where any women’s shelters were. I didn’t know where to ask for help. And then he pulled up, he’d found me, and I was forced back to the life I detested.

It soon became a regular thing that the police were involved. The violence had increased once my daughter was born. If she was in bed, or away with my family for the night, he’d abuse me any way he could. I was exhausted as a new mother trying my hardest to protect my daughter and give her the best life I could, whilst constantly breast feeding her and being forced to express milk into bottles which sat in the fridge until I had to throw them away. He rarely fed her, he rarely played with her, bathed her or put her to bed. She never heard him read her a story. Yet I didn’t want to split up her family. I could take whatever he threw at me, I thought, just as long as her family remained intact.

Coming from a broken family myself, I never wanted that for my children. I remembered the children at school laughing and sniggering at me when I explained why I didn’t have a Dad, which was normal to me, but for them I was the odd one out. I naively thought I was giving her a different life, I just never realised it was the wrong life.

One night he tried to keep me awake, whilst he was consuming his drugs as usual. My daughter was away for the night and something in me snapped. I’d had a bit to drink that night and lay on the sofa shouting at him to shut up. Next thing I knew his hands were around my neck and he spat in my face. The police were called. He was arrested and I was taken to my mothers. I was questioned by the police again and again, knowing full well what he would do to me if I told them everything. They knew. They already knew! They saw the bruising around my neck, even put their hands over it and pointed out the finger marks, and yet I stayed silent; screaming from the inside. I told them it was me. I attacked him, even though they knew he had previous for assaulting me, but they left.

He was released and promised to change. I realised why the police dropped everything almost immediately. His face was covered in (detail removed by moderator) where I’d desperately clawed at his face so he’d take his hands off my throat and stop squeezing. I still remember the feeling of everything going black and quiet before he finally let go.

They always do that, turn on the sympathy, waterworks and whatever else they feel like using to convince you to stay, to be quiet, to carry on being abused.

During one trip to hospital, where he’d hit me so hard everything went white, completely white, I even thought he’d broken my jaw, but he begged me and cried the entire way and he never cried. He begged me not to say anything, then he threatened me not to say anything and then he cried some more, claimed he loved me, he didn’t want to lose me or our baby.

The nurse looked at me in a questioning manner, as I explained I fell down the stairs and my face hit the wall. I’m sure she’d heard it all before but yet did nothing to help me. He stood behind me, watching as she examined my jaw and placed a stick in my mouth to bite down on. I pleaded with her using my eyes, knowing he couldn’t see me, I know she realised but she didn’t say anything, no one did. And we left.

A (detail removed by moderator) later I’d come to discover that he had in fact damaged my jaw. One painful experience of lockjaw saw me sat in the dentists chair explaining the past. No one batted an eyelid. This soon became the norm.

After the police were involved again they promised he would be forced to undergo anger management, yet I was the one who was instead forced to take part in a course for victims of domestic violence, whilst I was still with him, whilst he drove me to every appointment and I sat in a circle of women lying through my teeth and wanting to scream. I felt betrayed by everyone, I felt trapped and humiliated, I felt like the worst parent possible. Maybe he was right all along.

One day I stared at a packet of prescription pain relief, wondering what would happen if I took them all and ended it. Ended his abuse, ended his grip on me, his control. Then I thought about my daughter and I remained strong for her.

He had my mental health assessed. Accusing me of having post natal depression. I didn’t have it. Three psychologists came to the house and concluded the same. It was him, but no one else could see that. His friends and family called me crazy. They still do.

We moved into a new house and before (detail removed by moderator) came around, then (detail removed by moderator) before he promised to change again. For all of our sakes. He took me out to dinner while his mother babysat, which was a rarity for her. But the meal didn’t go to plan. I begged him to spend time with me, to talk to me, to make me feel like a human again and I told him so, every time he went outside to answer his phone calls, no doubt making his dodgy deals. He flipped. We paid and left, but I knew his angry silence could only mean one thing. We drove off and he assaulted me while he was driving, punched me in the head, the face, the chest. I hoped we’d crash, that he’d flip the car and he’d be dead and I’d survive. Even if I didn’t, at that point I no longer cared.

Of course it was my fault as usual. He informed his mother he was leaving me, that I was crazy, that I’d attacked him. I cried my eyes out cradling my baby girl while they both verbally assaulted me. And he finally left. The police were called again.

You always pray that they’ll just leave, that one day they will go and the abuse will end. But, when that day comes you have no idea how isolating and lonely it is. You have no friends by this point, you barely even talk to your family and still no one knows the truth. In your mind he is your only friend, he is the only one who loves you and you crave the attention from him, the good and the negative. They are all you know, and they’ve created this situation for a reason, to prevent you from leaving, to control you and manipulate you, to brainwash you… and it works.

(Detail removed by moderator) later and he was back. He promised the drugs were in the past so I happily took him back, took my abusive life back. All of his family and friends by this point had been ignoring me. My only contacts where we lived. He’d made sure to isolate me.

The new him didn’t last. (Detail removed by moderator) later I was calling the police after retrieving my car keys from the (detail removed by moderator) battered and bruised. He’d taken the last swing at me and I saw my strength grow. He wasn’t going to get away with it this time.

The police turned up followed by an ambulance. My injuries were assessed. I had a lot of bruising to various parts of my body. My back was grazed my stomach bruised from where he head butted me there. I had a large bald patch where he’d torn my hair out and my jaw was badly bruised from where he’d placed his hand inside my mouth and pulled it downwards with all his strength – damaging it once more. The cuts and grazes were endless.

They searched for him and found a large quantity of cocaine at the same time. He was arrested for (Detail removed by moderator) I wish more than anything after the court cases that they hadn’t found the drugs.

Social services naturally became involved and warned me if I took him back my daughter would be taken from me. I was never going to let that happen. Yet they risk assessed him, despite him having previous for assaulting another woman before me, he was found safe to have contact with my daughter.

She wasn’t even (detail removed by moderator) and she began having nightmares, her behaviour changed and I stopped all contact with the approval of the social workers. Of course he tried to take me to court but that backfired.

 

(Detail removed by moderator)

It took a long time for my hair to grow back but it did, and so did my confidence. I even gained a non molestation order against him and for (detail removed by moderator) my life was better. I still lived in the same place but I saw more of my family, started dating again, I even made new friends. His friends and family made my life difficult of course. I was regularly given abuse in the street, even whilst with my daughter. We tried to move but I was told by my housing association all I could do was move to a women’s shelter, but it would mean leaving behind my belongings and no guarantee of ever being rehoused as I was making myself “intentionally homeless”. This would be a statement that was later refuted by a social worker who claimed no one would have ever said that to me.

The day came I had been dreading, my daughter asked me if she could see her father, so reluctantly I agreed and arranged for him to come to the house.

I gave him the chance to be her father, because he never hurt her although he did affect her by things she had witnessed him do to me, I knew he wouldn’t hurt her. Heck, even social services said he wasn’t a risk to her! So they must be right? Surely?

The (detail removed by moderator) and her relationship with him never grew. I remarried and he became increasingly more controlling towards us. He hated my daughters relationship with her stepfather, with her new brothers. He would regularly turn up at the house with no warning to bang on the doors and windows and he even walked straight in several times.

One night I was in bed with my daughter as she refused to stay at his house so I text him then ignored his frequent calls. It went quiet and we settled down, only to be woken by him entering the house and coming up the stairs. It was terrifying. I never forgot to lock my back door after that.

Another incident saw my daughter inform him she wanted to spend (detail removed by moderator) with her brothers instead. He raced round and stormed into the house uninvited. He shouted at me, at my daughter, left us both shaking and her crying then slammed the door on his way out. He even had the audacity to drive off then race back and do it again. Ever since that moment we looked for somewhere else to live and by the next month we had moved. Our new house had a door that would automatically lock and couldn’t be opened from the outside without a key.

I was happy, my family were happy I was back home where I belonged, where I wanted to raise my children, where we could all be happy. He didn’t like this, of course he wouldn’t. His behaviour became more controlling. My daughter regularly refused to see him. Giving me excuses to tell him why, even using her medical conditions as a reason not to see him. But her behaviour changed too.

I’d never seen a child have a meltdown until my daughter did. She attacked me, attacked my husband (who by this time she referred to as Daddy), and she was so scarily uncontrollable I felt the need to restrain her to protect her from further harm. One of her medical conditions was to do with the brain. I dreaded the thought of her hitting her head so held her down by her arms and my husband held her shoulders. She reacted angrily to this and I caused non accidental bruising to her arms. At the time I didn’t know.

Her father never listened to a word I said but I wrongly hoped he could help with her behaviour in some way. That backfired on us. He called the police and social services and my husband was arrested for assaulting my daughter. He was removed from the home, then when I mentioned I had held her I was told I couldn’t be left unsupervised with my children.

It took a long (detail removed by moderator) to get my Husband home. Throughout that time we went through our youngest having open heart surgery, our middle child’s behaviour escalating due to suspected ASD and ADHD and my daughter informing everyone she did not wish to see her father any more, and discovering my daughter needs assessments for ASD, ADHD and that she has learning difficulties and anxiety.

Throughout all of it, from the accusations to the refusals to believe us, the hardest part was during the parental assessments when I was accused of “making people look bad” to get them out of my life. This social worker indirectly told me I’d never been assaulted and there was never any abuse from that relationship. I complained of course but there’s not a lot you can do when it’s your word against someone else’s.

I would love to know what the look was on her face when she discovered, as did I, that (detail removed by moderator) he was arrested again for assaulting another girlfriend. The girlfriend was too frightened to take it any further, which I know only too well, but he’s still committing these offences against women.

I feel betrayed and failed by every system there is. I’m in a happy and loving relationship now but what has happened has affected me. It’s affected my entire family and still continues to this day.

He’s still an addict, that’s very much evident, we even had reason to believe he previously took my daughter on his drug deals as well as neglecting to give her appropriate care and medication. Of course this has all been reported. But to him and his family I will always be the one in the wrong. After all, as they tell everyone, I’m crazy.

We continue to report his online harassment and threats but to no avail. I live in constant fear or what he’ll do next. I recently attempted to gain an order on him preventing his abuse and contact but I was informed I’m not entitled to legal aid despite our relatively low income.

My advice to anyone who finds themselves in an abusive relationship is to look out for the signs:

Controlling behaviour
Aggression
Threats
Violence
Sexual abuse
Change in personality
Isolation
Preventing your use of mobile phones or social media

Record every incident. Keep a log of everything and I cannot stress how important this is.

Never retract a statement or claim it was your fault. I have been labelled a liar for doing this. The police told me to my face I had lied to them previously so was lying about anything else that happened.

Don’t put up with anything you do not deserve. And most importantly always put your children first. The ideology of keeping your family together does not work with abusive relationships. Your children will always be affected and it does more harm than good long term.

This man is now seen as a risk to my child, finally. Even if she decided she wanted contact with him it would only ever be supervised. She struggles every day with her mental health and I feel the guilt of allowing him to affect her the way he has. We’re still waiting for CAMHS but until that day comes she’s receiving a lot of support in other places. Our children are and will always be our priority.

If there’s one thing I can say to anyone right now, who’s experiencing any form of abuse, it’s that you deserve better, and you need to truly believe that to make the change… then make sure you’re heard!

 

 

 

 

[resilient]

I am so sorry for how you have been treated.Your story is harrowing .

Best wishes to you and your family

[Dillusionalworld]

Thank you, Resilient. Sometimes I forget about how terrible everything was. It’s a lot different when you see it written down in its entirety.

I also make sure it doesn’t define who I am and I hope to one day be able to work with others who have been through the same.

[HopeLifeJoy]

Hi Dillusionalworld
I’m at a loss of words, I read your entire story and I feel sad and angry at how not only you were so terribly abused but also not treated better, respected and protected against him by the authorities.
I’m so very sorry all this abuse happened to you. You name yourself whichever noun you wish darling, you are a victim and he is the perpetrator.
Keep fighting and voicing your story, you could publish it in the newspapers, it really is a story to be shouted from the roof tops, bringing awareness to everyone and exposing those nasty abusers.
I am relieved you are happily married, you deserve it so much, you are incredibly strong you know.
Keep safe and keep posting 💕

[Dillusionalworld]

Thank you HopeLifeJoy. The one thing from all of what I have been through, is that I never want anyone else to be treated the way I have been.

These days when we’re encouraged to speak out and report any form of abuse, it baffles me when they get away with all of it and we end up being the villains.

I’m fortunate that my life has changed for the better, but we know no one will help us. We still have SS involved so I fear any publicity could potentially harm us.

We’re lucky that we are finally listened to and our social worker has changed. (detail removed by moderator) our children have special needs and disabilities so I’m grateful to have the support from them.

I just hope others can understand how easily it is for us to be disbelieved. It’s so important to cover yourself and retain all evidence.

[Fudgecake]

Thankyou for sharing your experience, Dillusionalworld. I can understand how hard it must have been to share but it is important that we share this with others who are unsure of whether they too are suffering abuse. It can be so hard to pick up on the signs when you’re in an abusive relationship. I wish I had found this site and read the experiences of these brave women sooner and perhaps I would have realised and had my feelings confirmed and avoided years of abuse. But at least I got out.THank you once again and I wish you well in rebuilding your life and yourself.Take care x

[Author]

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