When I was 12 years old, I got head lice.
I waited for my mother to notice. I waited for what felt like weeks. It was disgusting, and I was disgusted with myself; they were crawling everywhere, falling off my head onto my school books, fat with my blood. But I never took any action to deal with it myself. I waited for my mother to notice.
When I visited my father, as I did every fortnight, within about twenty minutes of my arrival he said “Oh my GOD. You’re crawling with lice!” and immediately went out, bought lice shampoo and dealt with it. This isn’t to say that my mother didn’t care for me, and it isn’t to say that my father was a more attentive parent. I understood even then that my mother had a lot of things on her mind and not a great deal of emotional fortitude. My father noticing was more a matter of coincidence—and to be honest, at twelve, I was probably capable of taking action myself. This was merely one of many incidents over the course of my life when I was waiting for someone to notice me, to notice what was happening to me.
I had a cliché of a terrible boyfriend later in high school, who used our time together, more often than not, to play video games with his friends while I watched, waiting for his attention. Who begged and cajoled and promised marriage to me in order to get into my virgin pants (naturally, all promises were retracted after the pants had come off). That was how I could get his attention, he taught me implicitly: with sex. How sure I was that I could never love anyone as much. The thought of losing him was unbearable. He never threatened to end our relationship over it, but it seemed pretty clear that’s what would have happened. I went to a left-leaning feminist stronghold of an all-girls high school, yet he was still able to pull this on me. Looking back on it in shock and self-disgust, I think it was partly because I wanted sex too, despite having been indoctrinated to save it for marriage, but also in part because of how desperate I was to keep him, to keep this source of intermittent attention and affection.
Later, when I met the man I actually did marry, he turned off video games when I walked in the door, and apologised for playing them. He showered me with attention. He created a bubble for the two of us. He invited me along when he spent time with his friends. He didn’t understand when I wanted to spend time with my friends without him, because he wanted to be with me all the time, and so I must not love him as much as he loved me if I didn’t want to include him. I managed to stand firm and carve out some time with my friends over the long term, because some part of me knew that wasn’t right, but so much of how he treated me did feel right that I wasn’t able to recognise this for the planet-sized red flag it was.
I don’t really know how I got from there to the day when I banged my head against the drywall because my physical self needed to match how my emotional self felt while trying to talk to him. I suppose that I was the frog being gently, caressingly lowered into room temperature water in a pot on the stove.
I read recently that one of the most important things about gaslighting (the emotional abuse technique of denying the victim’s perception of reality) is that it’s not always deliberate; that your abuser may simply believe things about you, and so twists reality to convince themselves and you that you are lazy, or selfish, or that you lack empathy. And I’m not sure that he isolated me intentionally either. I wanted to be with him. I wanted to please him. My family never really said a word against him, and I didn’t listen when they did try. We’re not very good at hard emotional conversations. But the outcome was that he was able to create a bubble in which his version of me was the only one that was shown to me, and I wasn’t confident enough in myself to reject it. He would enumerate the ways in which I had failed to be a good partner, and I would cry and apologise while he held me comfortingly. “Why do you love me then, if I’m so awful?” I would sob, trying desperately to understand this version of myself that no one else had ever told me about. “Because you’re pretty!” he would say jokingly, wiping away my tears kindly. He never gave me a serious answer.
I don’t, even now, think that he is an evil person or that he set out consciously to break me down in this way. He just has an innate belief in his own correctness at all times, and therefore, reality must be moulded to fit that “fact”. If something is wrong in his life, since he cannot possibly be at fault, it must be someone else, and I let him make me that someone else.
The version of yourself an emotional abuser presents to you is reinforced constantly. They tell you “You did that because you’re lazy.” and when you respond that no, you did it for reason X, they argue that no, you did it because you’re lazy and we both know it. This is how they establish the idea of your faults as a known fact. You know why you did or didn’t do something, but every time, your abuser attributes it to this supposedly known trait of yours, which allows it to become “an issue” they have constantly brought up with you and conveniently ignoring the fact that they had no basis to bring it up. My abuser actually said to me “Oh you always have a reasonable excuse!” when I attempted to correct his version of my motivations and actions. A reasonable excuse is a reason. It is true that motivations don’t count for a lot if the outcome of your actions is bad, but if you have someone constantly, wilfully misinterpreting your motivations instead of working with you honestly and trustingly towards different outcomes, nothing is going to change for the better.
When I was pregnant, I asked him: “Please, don’t talk down to me the way you do in front of our children when they are born.”
He responded “Then don’t be someone I have to talk down to.”
When I think back on that conversation now, I wonder how things could have gotten so bad that I thought that was an acceptable conversation to have to initiate, that I didn’t see that the view he had of me that allowed him to talk down to me was the unacceptable poison in the veins of our marriage, that the actual talking down was just a symptom.
Later in my pregnancy, there was another incident of serious emotional abuse. I won’t go into it except to say that I was hospitalised shortly thereafter for three days, due to the extreme stress my body was under, having been worked too hard so late in a high-risk pregnancy, but it was the moment I knew that nothing was ever going to get better, and also the moment that I thought I was trapped with him forever.
Parenthood blew the cracks in our relationship wide open. We were both exhausted and under a lot of stress. He ramped up the emotional abuse, and my ability to swallow it withered and died. I became like a wild animal trapped in a corner, biting and scratching, desperate to free myself, yet certain there was no way out. Normal mother-guilt combined with post-natal depression and the feeling that I was trapped with my abuser for life because we now had children together, and it nearly did me in. At that time, I was glad that at least our children were safe, at least I couldn’t imagine him ever treating our children with the open contempt he did me. I didn’t consider then that abusing me in such insidious ways in front of them was in fact a form of abuse.
One weeknight I was out with a freelance client and friend at a function I was working for her. My then-husband, my abuser, was at home with the children. We had been arguing earlier that day, and he texted me at 10pm to tell me that he didn’t think I should come home that night. He had never done this before, and I was too ashamed to tell my friend what had happened. I ended up sneaking into the house through the back door and lying on the floor in the back room, unable to actually sleep, then leaving at about 4am before the children woke up so I could go to work. It was the middle of winter and absolutely freezing. Sometimes I think something froze in my heart that night and never really thawed.
I didn’t tell anyone about the incident that triggered my hospitalisation until years later, when I had all but resigned myself to this hell of a life. I truly believe that shame at what you have allowed your abuser to do to you is an extremely powerful weapon in their arsenal; if no one knows what is being done to you, no one can help you see that you don’t deserve it, and no one can offer to help you escape.
When I had resigned myself to bearing this unbearable life, I decided that I wanted to let go of my anger about the hospitalisation incident, so I posted about it in a comment thread here on The Toast. The response I got from the community, many of whom I already considered to be dear friends, was that this incident was utterly unacceptable and horrifying. This response was so immediate, so unanimous and so truly loving in a way I had somehow not expected, that it started me on my journey to free myself and my children from my abuser. When Toasties asked me if this incident was out of character, a one-off in an otherwise extremely loving and mutually respectful relationship, I was forced to concede that although it was more extreme than anything previous, it actually fit extremely well with his pattern of past behaviour, something that I had not been willing to admit to anyone but my deepest self.
My mother came to visit us at some point around this time. After two days of witnessing the way my husband treated me, she waited until we were alone and she asked me if he hit me. He had never hit me. I cynically said that he would never do anything to me that would leave proof. And I was still only dimly cognisant of how sick and soul-destroying it was to stay with someone about whom who you believed such things.
I was still not ready to leave; to actually change my life. Then one night we had a particularly vicious argument that ended, not unusually, with me sobbing on the floor, begging him to stop berating me. I told my sister via email, and I told my Toasties via a social media account he didn’t know I had, that he was emotionally abusing me. This was the first time I had named the abuse.
And everyone believed me.
Everyone believed me. Not a single one asked if it really happened that way, or said maybe he didn’t really mean it, or suggested that maybe I was also to blame.
I can’t tell you the immense power that simply hearing “I believe you” had for me. Even now I can’t think of that moment without crying. If this is happening to you, I can’t urge you strongly enough to try to work through your shame and tell someone. You don’t have to leave that day. But I want you to get someone else’s view of you, to make sure that you aren’t being fed a lie, and I want you to experience that power of being believed. Being believed was what finally gave me the strength I needed to walk out the door. Depending on your situation, it may not be physically safe for you to “just walk out that door,” and if that’s the case, I encourage you to seek out the resources of your community.
To bring it back to waiting to be noticed, I sometimes wonder if part of my reluctance to reach out and tell someone that I was being abused was that I wanted someone to notice, and reach out to me first. But I realise now, looking back, that people did make attempts to reach out to me, and I was too ashamed and too afraid of change to grab the ropes that were thrown. I had to be ready to take that action myself. I had to be ready to rescue myself for it to be successful.
I left him.
At this moment in time, there is still a hard road ahead of me, but I am surrounded by family and friends, and I feel good and positive about my future and that of my children.
I can’t allow my children to grow up thinking that what we had was love, that what we had was how a marriage should be. I can’t be broken, because I need to be whole for them. I can’t be disassociated, because I need to be present for them. Less importantly, I can’t allow myself to be tied to my abuser any more than I have to be because we have children together. It does make everything harder and more complicated. How I wish I never had to see his face or hear his voice again, how I wish I could simply cut off all contact with him and live as though he had never existed. But he is the father of my children, and so that will never happen. And that is why I urge everyone, if you are being treated this way, to be stronger than I was, to demand more than I did, to walk out that door before you are tied to him forever.
Tags: abuse, feminism, marriage, relationship, self-worth
Oh, my dear. How brave of you: to survive, to leave, to write.
I had to get up and close my office door while reading this so no one could see me crying.
I am SO GLAD you were able to leave him. Continuing to wish every good thing for you and your children. <3
<3 this is an important thing to have written. thank you.
Wrenchingly beautiful. Strength and courage for you and your children in this new life.
I can’t say how much I admire you for being able to write this so clearly and eloquently – I’ll be sharing it everywhere because I think this could really help some people. You’ve done something so hard and so right for yourself and I wish you all the best.
I see you. I hear you. I’m very proud of you, and love you.
You are amazing and cherished.
Brave and touching.
You are brave and amazing. I hope and pray that anyone out there that needs to see this, so they too can find their brave and amazing self, will see it and soak it in. Thank you for writing it.
If I could put emojis here, it would be hearts for you and stabby knives for him.
Thank you for reaching out. Thank you for believing us when we told you you deserved better. Thank you for leaving him. And thank you for writing this.
Oh, honey. So many, many hugs. For what it’s worth, you are such a strong and valuable person in my internet world, and I’m so glad that you found the strength to see that, too. <3
I just started crying at my desk. Thank you so much for sharing this. For writing this so beautifully. The conversation you describe here- ““Why do you love me then, if I’m so awful?” I would sob, trying desperately to understand this version of myself that no one else had ever told me about. “Because you’re pretty!” he would say jokingly, wiping away my tears kindly. He never gave me a serious answer.” is one that I have had with my recent ex-boyfriend countless times and it was such a punch in the gut to read that, because I’ve said those words, always while sobbing, and he acted exactly like that. I’m so glad that you got away from him, that this community helped you. Hopefully this will help others who might have had that same conversation and felt like it was normal. <3 <3 <3
I’m so sorry that you recognise this, but glad it’s in your past. <3
“How can you love someone you think is a bad person?”
“I don’t think you’re a bad person, you’re just broken and you hurt people because of it.”
“So why are you even with me?”
“Because I just want to love the hell out of you for the rest of my life. Please just let me fix you, and I can love you.”
That was in 2010. I only left him a couple of months ago.
Hugs to you. It’s such a tempting narrative- the idea that someone can fix you and all you have to do is let them. If only it was that easy.
Holy shit, these exact words. This exact conversation!
I’m so happy you found the strength and the courage to leave this man and I’m so happy you are a part of this community.
I’m so proud of you, and happy for you, and my eyes are welling up! Thank you for writing, for being so strong. And thank you to the little community we have here; you are all amazing!
Can only echo all the sentiments expressed already. I’m generally a lurker but this is my safe place on the Internet and I get emotional healing from seeing the Toasties surround each other with love and support.
I was physically and emotionally abused by my parents, and *just* this weekend sent them an email demanding that they either deal with the fact that they did this to me by going to therapy, or I was done speaking to them.
I had a similarly overwhelmingly positive and empowering experience when I started telling people and everyone believed me. It was amazing. It made me feel like breaking away and getting out of the Stockholm Syndrome relationship I was in with them, where I had to pretend I was okay for their sake, was possible, and that I would have people to take care of me and stand with me.
You have strong unclipped wings. Keep flying, keep writing. I’ll be thinking of you rising up, it makes my heart rise up too.
You are all so wonderful and amazing, and I hate that this is striking a chord with some of you, although glad it’s mostly from your past as well.
I am half-shunned in my physical community because I spoke up about my emotional abuse. It’s not malicious; it’s actually even a fairly common phenomenon, as described by Judith L. Miller in her book Trauma and Recovery.
I am so grateful, therefore, for this community – where you and I can say things that are true, and be believed.
<3 hugs and strength. I’m so sorry there are people who won’t believe you.
Amen. Here I can say emotional abuse and be believed about my experience. The gaslighting worked so well I rarely even use that word in my head and constantly doubt the validity of my experiences..
So sorry for the reaction of your community and glad you’ve found other resources.
Just wanted to note that the author of Trauma & Recovery is Judith Herman, not Judith Miller. She’s an incredible pioneer in feminist psychiatry – and a dear family friend.
So proud of you for leaving, and really goddamn proud of your for gathering up your wits and writing such a comprehensive, thoughtful piece. I <3 you.
I am so sorry that you went through this. My heart aches in recognition for you. I was emotionally abused for years by my brother, and it’s still hard for me to believe that I am not the person he made me think I was. Thank you for so eloquently sharing the peculiar pain of this form of domestic violence. You are so strong, and smart, and true.
Thank you for this sweetie. Your strength and path of self discovery is inspirational. You are a beautiful, kind person and you deserve wonderful things. <3
I don’t know how to send the writer enough love and gratitude for writing this. Thank you, Wing Feathers.
You are incredible, and I am so, so happy that you got out.
You are so brave. Thank you so much for this.
This internet place is the best internet place. I’m glad you are here and that we are here for you. <3 toasties.
Gotta go finish desk crying now.
I love you.
You are strong and admirable. Thank you for being brave to act for yourself and tell others your story.
Thank you.
Not only for yourself, but for your children.
I am glad you got out.
Thank you for sharing this story. Best wishes to you and to your children.
You did it. Thank you.
What an amazingly brave story, thank you for sharing it. Know there is a deep well of love and support for you here <3
i am so glad you are in a better, safer place. so glad for your bravery and strength (you are brave and you are strong).
when i was a little girl, i had a best friend who bullied me horribly. I found myself lying to the rest of the world constantly about her, so no one would know how fucked things were. luckily, she moved away and i came to realize how genuinely toxic that had been. my first seriously live-in boyfriend…i realized that the way i felt all the time and the things i omitted with others mirrored that childhood friendship. i caught him lying about a massive thing, and left. so very very very glad i did. still haven’t “come clean” to mutual friends about how awful he was, don’t know if i can or want to do so.
your thoughts regarding abusers who act without full conscious plans, that seems true to my experience. my guy seemed to gaslight more on instinct than by plan.
I think that point is so important. I have known a lot of people (and dated some of them. And been one of them) who exhibit really abusive behaviours. They would be/are horrified to realise that. The people who they are abusing with these behaviours often find it hard to deal with them, because they don’t want to think about that person as ‘an abuser’. I think ‘an abuser’ comes with the implication of intent.
In the end, I don’t care what someone’s intent it. If they are treating me, or someone else, badly, that’s enough. I think the world would be a much better place if people in general understood this (and also quit saying things like ‘they love you REALLY’. What they feel about me is IRRELEVANT if they can’t meet the basic standard of treating me like a human)
100% yes
“What they feel about me is IRRELEVANT if they can’t meet the basic standard of treating me like a human”
SHOUT IT FROM THE ROOFTOPS yes ma’am!!!
You are brave and strong. Thank you for sharing this.
I think the point about gaslighting not always being intentional can be applied to other forms of emotional abuse.
When I look back at my first relationship, the number of things on the “warning signs your relationship might be abusive” checklist that I can check off gives me chills. But I am not sure that the manipulation was intentional. Or rather, he was intentionally trying to get what he wanted, but I don’t think he was necessarily fully cognizant of the ways in which he was being manipulative and engaging in unhealthy behavior. I think he was doing what he had learned somewhere. (Which is another reason I’m glad you got out – because it means that your children will not grow up accepting this as the way partners treat each other) Of course, when I pointed out that he was getting way too upset about something minor, he said he couldn’t help himself, so I suggested that if he had so much trouble controlling his temper, he should get some help. He told me that I was the only thing he got that upset over. Thank god it was a long distance relationship and I had good friends, because damn.
I’ve stopped seeing a friend because he has admitted to yelling at his girlfriend. Theirs is a fraught relationship and as far as I can tell (they have both talked about it to me, but also I am not there when these things happen so who knows) if anything she’s emotionally manipulating/abusing him. But he said the same thing to me – that the only time he has trouble with his temper is with her. I told him it’s just not ever acceptable to shout at your girlfriend, sorry. He is definitely not doing it on purpose, neither of them are. I would say he is a truly good person. And yet… well, he can’t be, can he? That’s not a thing a good person does, at least not often, at least not over many years.
I stopped initiating contact because although I value his friendship, I just can’t. The relationship is destroying them both and neither of them will get out and I’ve stopped hoping they’ll call it quits. I just can’t be around them while it happens, it’s just too terrible.
I’m so glad you called yours off.
I dated someone who sounds like your ex at the start of your relationship with him. I’m grateful I got out before it got worse. I’m glad you were able to get out. And I want to encourage everyone: if you see your friend being emotionally or physically abused, TELL THEM. Tell them you see it, and it’s wrong, and they’re unhappy and don’t need to be, and that you’ll be there for them. It may help more than you know. Sometimes being told and being believed mean the world.
Do this, yes, but be prepared for it to be a long haul; we all get stuck in hard places sometimes. A friend married the abusing SO in question after fully admitting that what s/he was describing would, had anyone relayed similar stories to him/her, instantly be recognizable as emotional abuse. But despite making a choice I find confusing and frustrating, my friend is still worthy of love and respect, and that reminds me it’s time to pick up the phone.
In cases like that I think it’s important to let the friend know that you do think they’re being abused, but that you are there for them and will be there to help if they decide to leave. Sometimes people don’t leave because they feel they’ve alienated all their friends/their SO has made them alienate all their friends. Same if the friend gets mad at your for telling them they’re SO is abusive. Let them be angry at you, but make sure they know you’ll be there when they need help.
Yeah, that’s the plan: be a friend and offer support and hope for a flaming sword of justice in the next life, maybe.
My mom had A Conversation with me about my emotionally abusive ex a little over a year before I finally left. I was pretty defensive at the time and never mentioned our issues when I was around my family for months after that. However, having that language and that seed of an idea to research and think about made a huge difference in ultimately feeling sane and in the right enough to leave. Having some kind of context/alternate explanation for what is going on matters a lot.
I hope things get better for your friend. <3
Thank you for picking up the phone. I think a support system can save drowning people. I’m still drowning, so I know first-hand.
<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 always
We love you. We believe you.
Thank you. I see you. I believe you.
This was so sad but also beautfully written. Thank you specially for this:
“I don’t, even now, think that he is an evil person or that he set out consciously to break me down in this way. He just has an innate belief in his own correctness at all times, and therefore, reality must be moulded to fit that “fact”. If something is wrong in his life, since he cannot possibly be at fault, it must be someone else, and I let him make me that someone else.”
I’ve recently started reading about emotional abuse because I’m pretty sure that is what my father did/does to me. Some people don’t believe me, because my mom doesn’t want her family to know the extent of the abuse (they are divorced, I moved town and hardly ever see him). I don’t think he really thinks he is correct, but he needs people to act like he is, and when I push against that truth, everything becomes my fault.
Anyway, I’m rambling, thanks again.
💟
Thanks for sharing your story. <3
I’m sorry you went through this and very glad you and your kids are out. Good luck and may things keep getting better.
You are so brave and strong. Thank you for sharing your story.
Oh man, I hear you on the head lice thing. I distinctly remember being in an agony of itching when I was in the third grade – of course it wasn’t a problem until the infestation spread to my sister, the golden child. (And then I was blamed.)
You’d think an ELEMENTARY SCHOOL NURSE would have something to say to a child complaining of an itchy scalp besides “go scratch it,” but I’ve never been particularly adept at getting other people to care about my problems. These days I don’t even try.
The details of the the hospitalization incident had been misty to me until you mentioned it here, and god, remembering it now is making me so angry and sad for you.
You have been so brave. I’m so proud to know you.
“He just has an innate belief in his own correctness at all times, and therefore, reality must be moulded to fit that “fact”. If something is wrong in his life, since he cannot possibly be at fault, it must be someone else, and I let him make me that someone else”
This describes my ex as closely as anyone who didn’t know him could. I’m so glad we broke up and so glad you left your abuser too. Thanks so much for Your bravery in writing this.
OH GOD THIS. SO THIS.
“I truly believe that shame at what you have allowed your abuser to do to you is an extremely powerful weapon in their arsenal; if no one knows what is being done to you, no one can help you see that you don’t deserve it, and no one can offer to help you escape.”
As someone who only recently realized that the horror and emotional abuse I’d been suffering from at the hands of my mother and sister was actually not my fault, this just about broke my heart.
Finding the courage to step out of the shadow you’re told you belong in takes more strength than you think is possible. But when you do, the rush of freedom, of safety, of support … it can make you feel whole again. Reminding yourself that you’re worth it, that you’re better than what they say you are, becomes your mantra — say it loud, say it often, and shout it from the rooftops to whoever will listen.
Thank you so, so much for sharing this. You are brave and brilliant and beautiful and strong. And we all believe you.
thank you for sharing this. i’m sure writing this was difficult, but for me personally, it’s very appreciated.
you deserve so much love. you are worthy of everything you want. i’m glad you know this and can say it. i’ll never hesitate to be a voice that reminds you if you need it. <3
I was asked, point blank, after being shoved down the stairs, dodging punches to get to my kid and get him to an ER for stitches, if I “felt safe at home”.
I wish I could tell the me then to say “No”. But by that time I was the boiling frog and I didn’t even see it.
Please forgive yourself for letting it happen–I know you didn’t “let” it, but that was the second-hardest thing for me to face, that it got that bad and I never knew. Nurses grabbed me by the knees in the exam room and said, “You have to talk to someone about this depression”. Friends and friend’s mother’s in laws told me it wasn’t right. I couldn’t see it, until one day, I could. (the hardest thing to face is what I’m still facing, that I am tied to the abuser for another 6 years). I can’t help that, I can only deal with it as it comes. But I can try to forgive the old me, and put the blame where it belongs, on him. There will always be people who think I’m exaggerating when I offhandedly comment about my life “before” or what he would do/say. If they only knew! We all have to speak, so that they do know, and more people are believed, and can believe it when it happens to them. Thank you for being a strong voice.
Oh darlin, this horrifies me. You’re such a brave parent for your child; I was very lucky to not have to worry about mine in that way. And I’m so so glad you’re out.
I love you, and I will always believe you.
I relate so much to this: “I truly believe that shame at what you have allowed your abuser to do to you is an extremely powerful weapon in their arsenal; if no one knows what is being done to you, no one can help you see that you don’t deserve it, and no one can offer to help you escape.”
Not being believed or being told “he didn’t really mean it” is soul-destroying. I hope one day to be as strong as you. Thank you for sharing, and much love.
I needed to read this right now, because an emotionally abusive relative contacted me last night (after I had asked for no contact) and I could already feel myself bending and absorbing their view of me. Thank you, really thank you.
I’m so, so glad some good came of this and glad you can see yourself clearly now. <3
Thank you for sharing your story. I see you, and I believe you. Good on you for getting out.
We will always love you and believe you. Thank you for writing this powerful piece.
Oh, you brave thing. Welcome back to the world. <3
This hit really close to home. I’m so sorry this happened to you and so happy you got out. Thank you for writing such a clear, logical breakdown of what’s happening in this kind of relationship. What a huge gift to other people still stuck in these situations.
Thank you for writing this. I needed to read it.
I remember reading one of those lists of red flags of abusive behavior, and pointing out to the guy I was with at the time that he definitely did abcdefg items (I definitely remember ‘fucks around with your money’ although perhaps phrased differently was on there, as well as the grandiose plans that go nowhere) and his response was “you shouldn’t read those things.” YEP THAT’LL MAKE EVERYTHING BETTER! don’t read about emotional abuse. don’t talk to your friends or family about your relationship. If you’re unhappy that is because you’re making yourself unhappy, why can’t you just be happy for me the way I am for you?
I still don’t really know how much was intentional, deliberately manipulative and how much was the unintentional, yet still abusive behavior.
I recognized so much that “I’m completely trapped, I can never ever leave, my life is always going to suck with this person” combined with a “well we’ve done x y z together, therefore we’ll just be together forever no matter how unhappy I am” which didn’t even make sense. I kept waiting and hoping for something to prompt us breaking up, like “maybe he’ll cheat on me and want to leave me for some other girl! that would be great.” and looking back recognizing how messed up of a viewpoint that was. I desperately wanted things to change, yet was waiting for some catalyst. I had to be my own catalyst, and that was scary enough, and further it hadn’t worked several other times, I’d just ended up being argued into how I was wrong and we were together and I was miserable. But finally it did, I finally said “we’re breaking up. No arguments. Absolutely nothing you try to say or do will change my mind.” And he still tried to stay attached but I held firm, finally.
Anyway, enough babbling. GOOD FOR YOU! LEAVING TERRIBLE RELATIONSHIPS IS GREAT! *CHEERING*
I found myself honestly saying: ‘okay, so I’m not really happy, but leaving would destroy him*, so is it that important that I be happy? I’ll just accept this as my future, do my best to make him happy and make better choices in the next life.’
I was 29 (28, 27, 26, 25) years old telling myself to wait until I died and was reincarnated to be happy.
*Oh yes. I managed to believe that I’m a terrible, abusive person completely lacking in empathy making his life miserable unless I give into his every whim AND also that leaving him would be the cruelest possible thing I could do at the same time. Logic!
so glad you got out <3
” I kept waiting and hoping for something to prompt us breaking up, like ‘maybe he’ll cheat on me and want to leave me for some other girl! that would be great.'”
Yikes, the shudder of recognition when I read that. In my situation, my boyfriend eroded my self-confidence so gradually and with such tiny acts that there was rarely anything major enough for me to confront him or leave him. If I tried to tell him that something he’d said had hurt me, he would say I was overreacting, and I believed him – I couldn’t connect it to the fact that this was just the latest in a series of hurtful behaviors, and that’s why my pain seemed so out of proportion to the individual incident. So I found myself WANTING him to do something egregiously terrible (like cheat on me), so I could have a “good reason” for wanting to break up with him.
Instead, I tried to engineer a breakup by picking fights and trying to provoke him into hitting me or doing something else horrible. As crappy as he was, I’m ashamed of behaving like that.
“You know why you did or didn’t do something, but every time, your abuser attributes it to this supposedly known trait of yours, which allows it to become “an issue” they have constantly brought up with you and conveniently ignoring the fact that they had no basis to bring it up.”
“if you have someone constantly, wilfully misinterpreting your motivations instead of working with you honestly and trustingly towards different outcomes, nothing is going to change for the better.”
Thank you for writing the clearest articulation of my relationship I’ve ever seen. I have trouble thinking of him doing it deliberately, but malicious or not, I ended up begging my therapist to somehow test if I was truly an abusive sociopath completely lacking in empathy, because the fact that my family and friends all thought I was a good and loving person was meaningless in the face of the traits he assigned me. Because I know that abusers can present a good face to the outside world, so how could I trust the reassurances of my mother and my best friend? He was the one who had to live with me after all.
I got out 11 April 2015.
I seriously can’t explain enough how meaningful this piece is to me. I read books about emotional abuse, and although bits resonated, nothing seemed to really match my experience. This though, I could’ve written this relationship beat for beat.
“Why do you love me then, if I’m so awful?” I would sob, trying desperately to understand this version of myself that no one else had ever told me about.”
“why are you even with me?”
“Because I just want to love the hell out of you for the rest of my life. Please just let me fix you, and I can love you.”
Just… this idea of a version of myself that nobody had told me about played perfectly into my existing insecurities and impostor syndrome and I can’t believe it took so long for me to break out of it when I had so much evidence to the contrary, but at the same time I’m not surprised at all.
so, so proud of you. i can totally relate to what you said about existing insecurities and impostor syndrome. <3
Yes, this. Still, every so often something will go wrong or I’ll accidentally hurt someone I love and then I’ll collapse in a heap because it turns out, everything my mother ever told me I was was true.
I’m so so glad you got out <3
This. I have been begging with friends and my therapist to reassure me if I have a firm grip on reality after repeatedly being told that what was happening to me was in my head. And after repeatedly being called a c*nt and a monster, having my perspective of events denied, or being blamed for his infidelities over and over again, I had started to believe and accept that as truth. And despite having friends tell me I’m worthy of kindness and respect, how could I believe anyone but the abuser I lived with who told me repeatedly that no one would love me the way he did.
“this idea of a version of myself that nobody had told me about played perfectly into my existing insecurities and impostor syndrome and I can’t believe it took so long for me to break out of it when I had so much evidence to the contrary” – I could not have articulated it better.
Reading this article and the comments from such a supportive community – it means so much to me. Sending infinite love to everyone who needs it.
“He had never hit me. I cynically said that he would never do anything to me that would leave proof.”
Yes. Exactly. Mine hit himself instead and blamed me for it.
Fuck that.
I can’t even. It must have been a living nightmare, and I say that as someone who was living in a nightmare too. I’m glad you’re free.
You have so much courage.
Please know that you deserve to be whole and free for your own sake. If you didn’t have children, you would deserve it just as much.
Your Truth is setting you (and others) free.
Thank you so much for writing this. I practically forgot to breathe while reading because it was so beautifully expressed and so similar to what I experienced for years in my relationship with my ex. I finally walked out that door with my two young daughters a few months ago and it was the single best decision of my life.
I am so, so happy for you and your daughters & I know they will grow up being so proud of their strong mama. If you’re on Twitter let us know your handle?
Thank you so much for sharing this. I am so glad you are here — with us, away from him, in the world.
The extent to which this piece reminds me of my relationship with my mother was freaking me out the whole time I was reading this, and then I got to “And everyone believed me,” and got chills, because that’s the thing I can never imagine happening. No one will believe me. I can barely believe myself. She does things and denies them within the hour, or if someone else shows up. She denies her actions straight to my face, and she does it so unrelentingly that even when I’ve just experienced them I begin to believe that she’s right. “No one will believe you” feels like this mantra that never stops, never even pauses.
I believe you.
I believe you too.
I believe you, sweetheart. I encourage you to try opening up someone in your life that doesn’t have an emotional investment in your mom; I hate to say it but people that also have a relationship with her may not want to believe you.
Oh best, we believe you. Please come here, we love you.
I believe you. This happened to me too. I’m just now figuring out that I don’t have to have a relationship with the brother who abused me, and if it weren’t for some tangible physical evidence, I wouldn’t have believed myself. I believe you. I believe you I believe you.
I believe you.
I believe you.
I believe you. I trust you. You are a very fine person just the way you are, right now. You deserve the very best in all things.
Thank you for writing this.
My face crumpled when I read ‘they believed me’. I hope I NEVER forget the first time someone believed me. I didn’t even have to tell them what it meant, they just understood. My whole world changed.
Thank you for writing this. Thank you for being here. Thank you for getting out. <3
<3 so much love. being believed was utterly transformative.
I didn’t even have to tell them what it meant, they just understood. My whole world changed.
Senior year of high school. After class one day, I went to my French teacher- “If someone did something to you, something unforgivable, and you know that they will never be in a position to do that thing to you ever again, but they could do it to other people…. you have to tell, right?”
And she knew. She knew who I was talking about, and she knew he had raped me, and I didn’t even need to say those things in order for her to believe me. There are a lot of people who just immediately believed me when I told them, and they were important. Especially the people who had been close to him. But the fact that it was so obvious from the outside exactly how bad things were that I didn’t even have to get into even the most basic of details was so important to me then, and now.
There are pieces of my heart still on the floor, reading this. Sometimes surviving is itself success, and you’ve proved it a hundred times over already. But it may not always feel like that, and so I want you to know – these words have power, and not just for those with a narrative of abuse, explicitly – power for me, in my journey back from brokenness of a different variety, long ago. Thank you, thank you.
<3 glad it’s in your past sweetheart
Thank you so, so much for writing this. I’m so glad you got away.
When someone believes you when you tell them you are being abused, that’s a powerful thing. When many people believe you, don’t try to judge or shame you, don’t respond by trying to dictate what you should do… that’s even more powerful. It’s something I wish more supporters understood.
Very much so.
Such a beautiful piece.
Yesterday someone on Twitter said comment sections are always garbage, and never have any value. But the comment section here really feels like a community, full of empathy and always willing to listen. It may take a lot of moderation (and that can be tough work), but the result is something that has true value.
Let me add my voice to the chorus and say: I believe you, and you are a badass for managing to get out and raising your kids all by yourself.
I believe you, and I support you, and I am rooting for you in the life that stretches out in front of you.
Wow, this is gutwrenching and the same time filled with such optimism and strength.
Makes me very sad I can relate to these kind of emotional abuse tactics before, but never this maliciously insidious. I always end up thinking it can get better and change, and it does sometimes, but the reality is the other person has to change themselves and nobody should feel obligated to stay.
bug hugs lovey. <3
Thank you for sharing your fight and your survival and your victory with us.
It’s odd, to look back on my own brutal and short marriage, and think for a moment “He was so nice, he never interfered with my birth control.” Because yes, for all the cruelties my first spouse inflicted on me, he was dead certain he was not ready to be a father. And while he didn’t like me going to church or having coffee with friends, he never argued when I said I needed to go to the clinic for more pills. I could have exploited that loophole more frequently, come to think of it.
I’m glad you’re free <3
Thank you for writing this. I read with the dawning horror that I too have been in similar circumstances. I went from being a confident (I’ll be honest: cocky) young woman to someone who delayed leaving for so long because I had been reduced to thinking that I wasn’t capable of managing alone. I left 10 years ago and it’s only now that I’m starting to see things more clearly for what they were.
It’s horrible to look back and think “Did I really let this person do that to me?” We did, but then we didn’t, and now we are free.
Crying because of all the comments saying “We believe you.”, “We hear you.” I never got that. I’m so proud of you and how brave you are. Am also proud of how loving and safe this community is. Thank you for writing. I hear you. <3
We believe you and hear you as well! If you ever need to talk, the entire Toast community is right here for you.
This IS so beautiful. And important.
I am a survivor of emotional abuse, and what you describe about it is dead on. I am so glad you were able to survive and leave!!!!
I have been thinking about this all night. Thank you for sharing.
I cried when I got to the part about everyone believing you. I wish so much that my mom had a community like that when I was a kid. She stayed with my dad until we were adults, because it was the only way she knew how to protect us. I wish things could have been different for her. I’m so glad they will be different for you, and your kids.
I had to double-check to make sure I didn’t write this article, especially this:
“He just has an innate belief in his own correctness at all times, and therefore, reality must be moulded to fit that “fact”. If something is wrong in his life, since he cannot possibly be at fault, it must be someone else, and I let him make me that someone else.
The version of yourself an emotional abuser presents to you is reinforced constantly. They tell you “You did that because you’re lazy.” and when you respond that no, you did it for reason X, they argue that no, you did it because you’re lazy and we both know it. This is how they establish the idea of your faults as a known fact. You know why you did or didn’t do something, but every time, your abuser attributes it to this supposedly known trait of yours, which allows it to become “an issue” they have constantly brought up with you and conveniently ignoring the fact that they had no basis to bring it up.”
This was my life for seven years. Seven years! My abuser was never wrong about anything, not once, no matter how absurd or outlandish the statement. I was at fault for everything that went wrong while we were together, even things that were beyond my control, like illness, injury, or, on one memorable occasion, not being able to find a parking space near a friend’s home.
I have so many horror stories. So many.
This reminds me of how my father treated my mother. Deceased 2 years now, she’s finally getting the confidence to be selfish, and I’m overjoyed by that. It’s so hard to explain to people what it’s like… and what you said hit home:
“I can’t allow my children to grow up thinking what we had was love… how a marriage should be.” – I think I decided love was what was on the TV, in films, it was the over-sweet romance, so often itself tinted with abuse (50 Shades anyone?)
I’m very glad for you and your children that you found a way to leave. Wishing you all the best of luck and happiness.
I believe you, I believe you, I believe you! It’s like erosion to your very soul and it has happened to me, but you can get away and feel WORTHY again. You are WORTHY. Thank you for writing this and sharing it. Thank you for saving yourself! You’re a warrior. You will survive!
Thank you for sharing.
I also had head lice that went unnoticed by my mom for months. They apparently don’t like toxic spray hair dye, so when I dyed my hair one Halloween, I finally got rid of them.
To this day, as an adult, my friends insist that my mom loved me. Really?
I’m so glad you got out. Thanks for sharing.
Whether or not your mom loved you sounds like it’s not all that relevant.
Sounds like even if she did, that wasn’t enough.
I’m sorry you had to experience that childhood, I’m sorry your friends are privileging their experience of your childhood over yours, and I believe you.
Thank you.
Love is not enough. Not by a long shot. Kindness, that’s the key. Your mother neglected you. When you were small and needed help. That was *not* kind.
Thank you.
Thank you so much for writing this. Even four years after I left him, it’s hard to describe to people what it was like and why we broke up and why I even married him… I feel weird telling acquaintances (and sometimes good friends) what it was really like and elevator speeches really aren’t my thing. You have put into words exactly what it was like and shown how insidious abuse usually is, and it’s so sad, and yet so freeing, to know that it’s not just me.
I’m glad you and your children got out and I hope that all readers who need to can have the realization that they are strong and they aren’t alone and they are more than what anyone says about them.
(On another note, if anyone needs a safe space in Pittsburgh, let me know.)
Oh, my dear Toastfriend, you are amazing. Your essay is an important gift to the world. So many need to hear your story.
I am so sorry for what you had to survive, but impressed as hell at your very survival. You are an excellent parent and I foresee good things for your children, as well as for you. So strong, so brave. I want to be more like you. And when you are feeling less strong, less brave, come here to The-Toast for hugs.
I see you. I hear you. I believe you. I trust you. I admire you.
I was waiting so devotedly for this piece to appear I managed to miss it until now. Talent! I remember that first brave post–just to say what had happened to a group of friends and strangers was so striking in its bravery, and the way people here held space for you and supported your decisions going forward was something like a miracle. It’s beautiful to see the care you’ve taken with your life, for your own sake and that of your kids, and this feels like a story that’s going to help so many people connect the dots in their own lives as well, which is brave and generous of you. OK, let me stop sniveling and just say thank you so much.
Much love to you, and thank you for sharing. It’s empowering to feel solidarity with you. xoxo
You are brave and I love you and I am proud of you and I love this website and this community and how we believe one another and listen to one another. I think you are a warrior and a role model and I know that when your kids grow up you will be able to tell this story in a way that they can learn from, and they will be more well protected thanks to the experience you had. So glad that you are away from that man and with your family and friends and that you’re feeling hopeful and positive about your future.
I’m so glad you escaped him, for yourself and your children. And for myself and other readers, I’m so grateful to you for sharing this story.
Like many other commenters, this piece helped me understand one of the most painful and damaging relationships of my life, and it helped me forgive myself. I was never hospitalized or physically strained by my ex. I was never blatantly told I was lazy or selfish. Instead, every argument, every time he got drunk, it was: “I feel like you don’t love me as much as I love you. I feel like you’re not trying as hard as I’m trying. I wish you were as attracted to me as I’m attracted to you. I wish you would invest as much in this relationship as I do. I wish you would prioritize me as much as I prioritize you. I wish you cared as much as I care.” This person I loved, my first serious partner who was the majority of my world and who I felt so safe with, told me over and over that I made him feel unloved, unattractive, unappreciated, unimportant — until *I could only see myself* as a superficially sweet girl who had fooled everyone with her outer charm, but was secretly a corrosive, selfish, careless emotional succubus to the person closest to her. Anyone who thought I was kind and good just wasn’t close enough to suffer the effects of my faults, like he was. I thought: that’s why he’s always annoyed with me now, and so depressed and shut-down. The wonderful, caring partner I’d fallen in love with was being poisoned by my own toxic energy, my innate selfishness. That’s why he stopped treating me well. I had drained him. I had ruined everything in our relationship. I deserved it. And there was nothing I could do to change: it was an intrinsic core part of my personhood, no matter how much I hated myself for it, and even if there *were* anything I could do to change, I was too lazy or uncaring to ever see it through and be a better person, let alone a better girlfriend.
By the time he dumped me, this was the truest possible version of myself in my head. Telling myself I was actually good would be a trick, a narcissistic delusion. It took a long time to even realize that this was only one version of me that HE had planted there, that his reality was not THE reality, and I could uproot it like the poisonous weed it is. I didn’t trust my own perceptions of myself, only his. I’m still getting over that, frankly. I also know he did not plant this in me on purpose; self-loathing spreads more like a spore, shedding off a person who hates himself and infecting those closest to receive it. This week, I found out that he’s getting married to someone he just met in the year since he left me, and that self-hate weed shot up again: I felt a surge of all the defective traits I believed about myself when we were together, and I felt them becoming facts again. Then I read your story, and saw myself there: “why do you love me if I’m so awful?”
Through your story I felt understood and seen, and it helped me step back. I did not walk away from my abuser, as you did so bravely – I was thrown away, and I blamed myself. Your perspective has reminded me that this extremely painful ending was also extremely lucky for me. I am better off now, and I can only hope his fiancee has a VASTLY different experience. Thank you, thank you, thank you so much.
“Anyone who thought I was kind and good just wasn’t close enough to suffer the effects of my faults, like he was. ”
This cut me absolutely to the bone, because it’s exactly what I believed for a long time. But he doesn’t really know me, not the real me, because he did everything in his power to make sure that I wasn’t the full person I could be. I’m so so glad I’ve been able to help you see that your abuser was wrong about you. It’s almost pathetic how textbook their behaviour is.
(pathetic of him, not of you, I hasten to add)
You are amazing. Thank you for sharing this.
As the child of an abusive spouse, I can tell you that my mother made the same custody choice you’re making for the same reasons. I can also tell you that if he abused you, he will abuse them too. And it will be worse for them because they will be too young to have other opinions of themselves. I’m glad you got yourself out. Don’t leave them trapped there.
I’m fighting for them with everything I have, and please know: I will do so until my last breath.
I experienced similar abuse in my first marriage that took me years to recognize and even longer to cut loose from. People on the outside only see black and white; they don’t understand how deeply implanted the insecurity created by the abuse becomes. I am convinced as well that dynamics in my family while growing up prepared the way for the abuse I accepted as normal. I still struggle, twelve years after finally breaking free, to believe I am worthy and deserving of the wonderful blessings I have experienced since.
Thank you for sharing. I hope those experiencing this pain recognize themselves and find the strength to set themselves free.💜
Thank you for sharing your story so openly. I believe you! And, I will try to reach out to those in my community who need to be believed as well.
I’m so glad you’ve decided to change your life for the betterment of your self and your kids. It’s very hard to see other’s manipulative behavior when that’s been your past interactions. Only by seeing and hearing people’s viewpoints, outside your life, can you have any basis of comparison. You’ve made a very hard decision and also the best one. You will have a tough road ahead, but know that you believe what you will not put up with and choices will become easier over time. Trust your instincts. If anyone reminds you of the people who have ultimately treated you badly, walk away. Let them go and do not rationalize or justify their shitty behavior towards you. Now is when you start trusting yourself, to know and to act, to keep you and yours safe.
Thank you so much for writing this.
This is incredible and tough and beautiful and so are you. You are awesome for finding the strength to reach out and to get out. You will thank yourself for it for the rest of your life, and your children will too. We love you and we will always, always believe you.
I <3 you.
Yaaaay!!!! You, lady, you are a hero.
We women need to keep telling our stories and giving support through various means whether it’s a safe space to give or cleaning or anything that will help us through this patriarchal destruction. I’m angry I got chewed up and spat out so that’s going to come through. I’m particularly angry that we women still go through drama like this because it’s normalised.
We must speak more about this, shame the shamers, leave our abusers, and house the refugees. PTSD is a long lasting thing so that needs to be dealt with as well.
Children are not stupid and they’ll see what’s going on when they’re old enough. I did. I personally found it better to not have ‘the father’ in my life. He was a homicidal maniac. My step father was a serial molestor and rapist. DNA is nothing when there is a chance for continuation of abuse through contact with YOUR children. Please think about that. Your ex merely stuck his penis in.
Lots of love to you. I wish I could give you more because you’ll need it but hopefully you have friends and family stepping in where I and others cannot.
<3 I haven’t got the strength to think or say more right now, but <3.
I am so sorry you went through this. Thank you for writing and sharing your courage.
Every word here resonates. You are amazing. Thank you. xo
I keep returning to this site to read this article again. I am uncomfortable because it hints that what I might possibly be thinking about maybe, someday, sort of looking at sideways at in my own marriage. It’s a painful process.
Dearest, please do. It took me 14 years to realise/admit. Please do not feel ashamed. I am proud of you for starting to see. You are worth more than being treated this way.
I recently got out of an emotionally abusive relationship. In the end the relationship was 6 years, never married, But we lived together. We moved together from where our families were.
Reading this is helping me heal, and understand that I am not alone, and it does happen subtly. I had very few friends as this was happening, and I didn’t want to admit anything to my family as to how I felt. I loved the guy, and wanted to preserve that.
But, I was not happy. I found an activity which introduced me to some kick ass friends, who called this guy out on his bullshit and to me. Which opened my eyes. Today I have been on my own as happy as I could ever be without this guy for almost a year.
Thank you for sharing your experience, I very much appreciate it.
Congratulations. It’s good that you left. You deserve so much better. Internet-stranger hugs if you want them. <3
I remembered reading this, but I forgot that I had read it only a month before I finally broke off my emotionally abusive relationship. This piece will always mean so much to me. Thank you, Wing Feathers, for writing it, and Toast, for creating the place it belonged.
I’m really proud of you and the strength and self-love that you scraped together in order to leave. I hope that things are so much better now.
Thank you for this kind comment. They are, they really are. <3
I'm really proud of you and the strength and self-love that you scraped together in order to leave. I hope that things are so much better now.
I remember reading this about a week before I left a verbally abusive relationship with a narcissist. I had a similar experience with what I thought was a throwaway comment on an Aunt Acid post. Toast powers were put into action and commenters lovingly showed me that what was happening in my relationship was very unhealthy. None of my friends really believed me, or my therapist.
You really helped me too. I am sure you helped others. Thank you and I hope you are steadily reclaiming the self you hid in order to survive that long.