When people show you who they are
I have had this post on my Google Drive for a while, I have gone back and forth debating if I should share it. But I decided that I want to share it. It’s a very private post, and a very honest one.
The first abusive relationship I was in was one of those explosive abusive relationships, text book style. He broke me down over time, he told me no one will love me like he loves me, he was controlling, jealous in combination with sweet, charming and caring. It’s one of those relationships where everyone will agree that it was abusive. I ended it when it started to get physical, he never hit me, but he did things like throw things, block the door, grab me, etc. I remember looking in the mirror one day saying “Who am I?” I was completely lost.
“When people show you who they are, believe them the first time.”
- Maya Angelou
After that I did therapy, I worked on myself and my self worth. I thought it could never happen to me again.
The next long term relationship was different. I loved him in a way I never loved a man before. He was so much of what I looked for: funny, charming, we had similar backgrounds and a similar world view. We had fun together, we laughed, created so many memories, so many beautiful moments. It was far from all bad, and I am beyond grateful I got to experience what I did in that relationship. I learned a lot, I grew a lot, I got to experience a lot of things I had never before. I lived with him for 7 years, I financially supported him for 7 years. He was a musician so of course I wanted him to do his passion. But as time passed and all the suggestions of how he could make a stable income were not taken seriously, it started to put a strain on our relationship. Not only did I carry the financial load, I carried the load when it came to parenting and to household work. When I asked for more help because I was closing in on getting burnt out he would promise to do more, and for days or weeks he would and then he would fall back into his patterns of making music for hours or playing video games for hours and not following through. This was our pattern, I would ask for more effort, he would give it for a while and then he would fall back into not doing what he said he would. I saw potential, I lived on hope. I wanted him to be someone I understand now he could not be. A partner, a co-parent, a friend.
He fucked up, I forgave, gave him another chance, and another and another. He asked me to marry him and I agreed. But when we started planning the wedding I realized I would be left with the all financial responsibility of the wedding, so we put that on hold. He told me he chose me, I was the love of his life and his best friend. I believed it all, because I wanted that, I wanted my kids to grow up in a two parent household. I wanted the fairy tale ending and the happily ever after.
The people around me didn’t really know how bad it was. I thought I was protecting the privacy of our relationship by not inviting my friends in, by not seeking their opinion and support. I thought I could fix it. If I only gave him more time, if I only explained to him what I needed, if I only loved him more. If someone would have told me then that this was an abusive relationship I would have told them no, I didn’t see it, I couldn’t. I was stuck in the cycle of it, of the pattern of it all. I was ashamed, and the longer we stayed together the more shame I felt. “Who stays with someone who doesn’t contribute for X years?” I asked myself. And for every year that I added to that question the more shame I felt. When people asked about our financial situation I would feel so embarrassed to say he didn’t have a job, like it was a reflection of me and my inability to motivate him to do more. Like it was my fault.
If you look up what a co-dependent relationship is, that was us. The relationship broke me down, it caused me a lot of stress and anxiety. At one point I actually started getting eczema (which I previously never have had), which flared up every time we interacted (a while after we separated it disappeared). It came to a point when I felt like I was drowning yet holding him over the surface of the water so he could breathe. I had to make the most difficult decision of my life, I had to choose me. I realized my kids were watching, and what was I teaching them by staying? That men don’t need to contribute? That women should carry the load and break down during the process?
How I handled the break up is not my proudest moment, but I knew I needed to get out in a way that he couldn’t pull me in again. I was weak to his charm and wanted so badly to keep our family intact. I also didn’t want to be that woman, the woman who has several baby daddies and can’t keep a man. I didn’t want to be a single mom again.
After we moved apart it wasn’t a clean break up. We had periods of trying to date, he spent a lot of time at my house, I talked to him almost daily. I felt deeply connected to him, we had a friendship, we had love. I gave him more chances, we would try to work things out, then fall back into our patterns. I would try to set boundaries and then collapse them. I would try to talk, explain, listen, understand, again and again and again. The people in my life started to question why I kept on going back to him, and there was no simple answer. It’s the cycle; you think it’s everything you want, that you don’t deserve more. And I couldn’t see how selfish he was because he made so many excuses, and I bought into them all because I did want to keep him in my life. I wanted our children to have parents that work well together, so I did what I had always done: I carried the load, I solved the problems, I paid the bills, I made excuses for him in front of the kids and other people in my life. For years and years, with patience, with compassion for him, with the hope that he would show up better for me as a co-parent and for our children.
To accept that this relationship, the one that I for so long thought was based in love, friendship and trust, was actually based in manipulation, deception and a total imbalance has been the hardest realisation to come to. It’s the hardest thing to accept. It’s something I am still working through daily.
I am sharing this to say, not everything is always as it seems. Sometimes abusive relationships are not what we expect, but in that imbalance there is a controlling aspect, there is a fear in which choices are made, there are two broken people trying to find a fairy tale ending. Be observant of those around you, dare to look at your own relationship! No one should feel like they are drowning saving someone who won’t save them back.
