As I say goodbye to 2015, and the last 10 years of my life, I would like to let go of some bad memories as well. Perhaps, exposed here, they will stop haunting and hurting me.
I don’t understand “triggers”, and these memories are very personal – I don’t expect anyone to read them. I need to vomit them out into the open though…so….
AN EASTER EXPERIENCE : 2012 – probably the worst beating I got while involved with the Narc. His friend came to stay at the lodge (part of the farm), and I will never know if this “fight” was an excuse to stay away for a week, or if he was so damn drunk the whole time that he blacked out….whatever….he went nuts. He had me in a strangle hold around my neck and was head butting me….over and over and over. I don’t know what would have happened if my mother hadn’t walked in and yelled at him to stop. I was concussed, in bed for a week. My eye swelled up and I had to go to the doctor twice to have my eye lid cut open to release the pressure. This is the only time that I asked a doctor to write a report on my injuries. I never did anything with that report.
OUR HAPPILY EVER AFTER HOME : I found the farm at a fantastic price. We went to sign papers. We. Because, as he said, it was our new home, our new start, our future. Yes he loved me, very much. He was prepared to put the whole farm in my name – did I want that? No…of course I didn’t want that. Signing together was good. Fantastic. My future with my love. We signed, we celebrated, we started to plan, life was good. It came out quite by accident a little later on that he had returned to the estate agent a few days after we signed the deal, and asked them to rip it up, and he signed a new offer to purchase in his name only. I can’t remember the final excuse he gave me for this, but I bought it. I had to. What choice did I have?
ONE OF MANY WARNINGS that he gave me, after being physically abusive, was that if I should never try to report him. He had smacked me around in front of staff and also his son in the past. He told me that those people were loyal only to him, and if I thought I could prove any abuse, I was just kidding myself. I’d seen him get 4 or 5 people to write falsified affidavits before. He submitted them in court (and yes, it was for a previous domestic abuse case with his Ex) – so ja, bit of a quandary that one. If nobody sees it, did it really happen?
Another kicker is my IRISH BLESSING – St Paddy’s Day weekend, 2013. I had 3 gigs to do that weekend with a band. Two weeks before the performances he hit me in the face with his steel crutch. Split my cheek open just below my eye. I spent rehearsals dabbing at the weeping wound, and gigging on stage hiding behind a mountain of makeup. Nobody said anything. I chose to believe that didn’t see. Really girl? Sigh….
NO PRIVACY : When my mother first came to live with us on the farm, she had lost her job and we had sold our little house. We didn’t make much money from the sale, but it was all she had. Narc managed to take over a third of it. Seemed to know when to ask and how much to push for. While the sale of the house was going through, he pestered us SO much to find out when payment would come through. His anxiety at getting the money through passed onto us. He offered to help with phone calls to push it through. We thought he was being caring. My mother never got any bank statements in the first 6 to 8 months or so. My bank statements came in the mail box….so no, not a postal error. How strange, we all said. I look back now. Strange? I think not. When she finally ran out of money, I guess the bank decided to start sending them to her again. And Narc decided to launch some very vicious verbal attacks on her from then on. It broke my heart.
MYSTERIOUSLY MISSING : Oh so many things, the list is as long as my arm. A digital camera, a pair of Raybans (twice), a laptop, a power supply, a Michel Herbelin watch, clothing, a handbag from Mexico, spare car keys, a book of song lyrics that I had gathered since the late 1990’s, a tambourine (found later burned and scattered in ashes strewn in the garden), a written list of all my cyber passwords including my bank accounts, tiny little seedlings that I tenderly nursed pulled up by the roots, a disabled doggy trolley, a big plastic box of arts and crafts….and surely many other things that I will remember as I start my new journey. Narcs are devious, they are thieves.
BUMPS AND BRUISES – as the years rolled by, he got clever. Black eyes are hard to hide. The beatings stopped (well almost) around my face and he would hit me on my body and on my head, where the marks would be hidden. My arms gave me away though. But I could find excuses for that. And he would tell everyone that I got drunk and fell off the bath, fell down the stairs, fell on the floor. Such a charming man. Everyone believed him. Mostly….
I REMEMBER ONE YEAR….well at least one full year…..where I just collected one black eye after another. Sometimes two at a time. It seemed like just as the bruise was fading, and I could venture out, BAM – another one. What was I ashamed of? What would people think? Why did I stay? A thousand questions – I never asked them. Why? Was I already broken when he met me?
I’m getting tired now. Dredging up the past. Looking at the lie I allowed myself to live. Eventually things are so bad, and you are so shamed, that you think it’s too late to be honest…with other people who may think you are weak and broken, but most of all, too late to be honest with yourself.
Because that would mean looking yourself in the eye and asking : WHO ARE YOU???
How sad to measure the success of a relationship by the number of bruise-free weeks you have. I didn’t have many….but there were enough to keep me in chains.