“It’s just, like, when it was good, it was good. There’d be … months at a time where things would be fine. Perfect. He’d be loving and gentle but then it’d all go to shit again and I had to deal with it. And the best way I can explain it is … that you forget what normal is.” – Savannah Brown
I’ve been in two minds about writing this post, for a number of reasons. I don’t want to just be here, being sad about things that have happened in the past. I know it’s ridiculous, but I also felt that writing this, and acknowledging stuff, would make me look stupid. I felt stupid, for quite a long time.
I’m going to be touching on some of the things I went through with my ex. It’s going to be hard to write, but I really feel like it will help clear some of it out of my head. I might even be able to use my experiences for good – there’s a chance somebody out there is dismissing red flags, like I did. Or maybe there’s somebody reading this, who’s gone through similar, and they won’t feel quite so alone in it all.
Of course, everybody has different life experiences, and every relationship is different, but I thought I’d share some of the things I wished somebody had told me, over the last few years.
Relationships can be hard, but they shouldn’t feel like a constant uphill battle.
Life is never 100% easy. It’s never simply an upward curve towards happiness. You should expect bumps in the road, along with the good times, but if you feel like you’re constantly swimming against the tide, it might be time to take a step back and look at things clearly. Holding onto the good memories, and being hopeful that you can work things out and get back on track, is okay, don’t get me wrong. But it shouldn’t be constant.
When I first started going out with my ex, he was so easy to talk to, and I felt like I could tell him anything. I loved that we could be silly, but we could also be serious. But towards the end, being ignored and dismissed ended up feeling like the norm. I almost forgot what those early days were like, ridiculous as that may sound. Where before I’d race to go and see him, I dreaded spending time with him, because it was so stressful. I do feel a bit regretful and stupid that, for me, it had to get that bad before I could actually see that I was putting myself through all this pain and heartache, and for what reason? Because I still loved him. Because, despite how much he was hurting me, I was afraid of hurting him back. Because I couldn’t quite imagine my life without him. Those reasons kept me fighting, even when I knew I would lose every time.
I used to think it would be so easy to tell when you’ve reached the point where you should just draw a line in the sand, and say, “enough’s enough.” But it’s so much harder when you’re the one in that situation. It started off with the occasional disagreement, which is to be expected. I’d think nothing of it, shrug it off, and move on. But then the good times slowly began to become few and far between. The criticisms and the silent treatment became more and more frequent, to the point I was walking on eggshells almost constantly. I’d tell myself it was just a rough patch, and things would get better. I just had to keep trying, keep loving him, and keep believing we could get through it. But when that “rough patch” kept continuing, seemingly with no end in sight, I finally began to see that things weren’t right.
Love can have its limits.
This is something of a continuation of my previous point, but it deserves its own section. I feel like we’re often told that love conquers all, from the books we read as kids, to the TV shows and films we grow up watching. It’s a message pushed at us so often, or at least, it definitely was when I was growing up, what with all the teen romcoms that were everywhere in the 2000s.
Love isn’t always enough, and that’s okay! I really wish I had had somebody to tell me that. There were times when I’d be having my doubts and asking myself if love, and my relationship was worth the hurt, and the effect on my self worth, and I’d end up feeling like a terrible person for even questioning it. I would tell myself that as long as I loved him, it had to be worth it. Maybe I was stupid, or maybe I was just stubborn. Giving up isn’t really in my nature, either way. As long as I had any reason to hope that I could make things work, even if it was only the flimsiest sliver of hope, in my mind, I had something to fight for.
Again, there has to be that breaking point, where you can’t keep fighting. We have those moments with friends sometimes, even family members. It shouldn’t be any different for partners. If love really didn’t have limits and could conquer all, we’d all be putting up with a lot more bullshit than we really need to. Or, people would quit their bullshit a lot sooner.
Your partner should make you feel supported, not guilt-ridden.
This one sounds like it should just be a given, but it doesn’t hurt to say it. Of course, I’m not saying you should be with someone who blindly supports you in everything, because that’s unrealistic. But you should definitely have someone who’s clearly in your corner, who wants you to be your best self, and to go out there and chase your dreams! Of course, I had plenty of times where I felt supported – when I changed jobs; when I was trying to work my way up and make a career; picking up new hobbies, to a degree. There were difficult times that my ex definitely supported, and helped me through, don’t get me wrong.
But there were times where I needed his support, but it wasn’t there. The first time I considered joining a gym, I remember mentioning it to him, hoping he’d give me that little nudge I needed, to get going. Instead, I just got a comment like, “What do you want to do that for? Even if you went to the gym and lost weight, you still wouldn’t be happy with yourself.” This was, obviously, amazing for my self esteem, because I hadn’t even said anything about losing weight. Another example that springs to mind is when I was really struggling with the stresses of work, and I was questioning whether I was really cut out for it all, or if I should just look for a new job. I used to get so anxious before my shifts, because I was under so much pressure, but when I went to my ex for support, I didn’t get support. I got questioned on why I was thinking about quitting, because “I’d worked so hard for it,” and that was the end of the discussion, as far as he was concerned.
The guilt trips were the worst part, though. I felt like I wasn’t allowed to go and do my own thing. I know this might seem at odds with the fact that most people who know me, know that I go to a lot of wrestling shows. I was never explicitly told I couldn’t go to shows, but I was made to feel awful for following something I have an unparalleled passion for. I could plan to go to a show months in advance, mention it to my ex, and he would approve. But by the time show day rolled around, so did the guilt trips. Or the guilt trips would come after I got back from the show, which would just kill the buzz the wrestling gave me. I could have the time of my life at a show, and not want to go home, because I had no idea what I was going to return to.
This was the case for virtually anything I did independently of my ex. For a long time, I made excuses to avoid going on nights out with work friends, I missed Christmas parties at work, and would even turn down requests to meet friends for coffee. It wasn’t worth the arguments, or the silent treatment, or him threatening to leave me. I think the most messed up example of this is when my nephew was born, and I wanted to go and see him, and my brother. I never understood why my ex got so huffy about it. I fought my corner, we went, and things seemed okay between us, but I never forgot how he made me feel so awful over something so ordinary. In short, my free time didn’t feel like my free time – it was his. There were so many times I felt like I had to really fight, and justify myself, just to have something for me. Part of me feels quite embarrassed that it took me so long to break free of that, and to stop letting the guilt trips affect me, because I lost friends, and I missed out on a lot. But regardless of how long it took, I’m glad I managed it, because it was the first step to regaining control of my life.
Nobody is entitled to all of your time. Nobody is entitled to your body.
Again, this follows on nicely from my previous point about free time. If somebody loved you like they claimed to, they’d let you have your independence. They wouldn’t question you going to meet up with friends, or even having different interests. Having time apart is good for you, and you should never feel like you owe your partner every second of your spare time. Especially if they’re keeping you from seeing family, or your friends – why would somebody who cares for you, deliberately isolate you from your loved ones?
The second part of this point is something I still feel pretty gross about. It doesn’t matter how much you love someone, how long you’ve been together, whatever – you don’t owe anyone, any kind of intimacy. I hate that it has to be said that it’s gross to pressure, or guilt trip somebody into something they don’t want. That’s really all I can say on that right now, but I didn’t want to leave it unsaid.
Your partner should build you up, not tear you down.
And they certainly shouldn’t be building you up, with the sole purpose of tearing you down again. I experienced a cycle of this throughout the years, and gradually, it just became normal, and I became constantly drained, mentally. My ex was the one person who could make me feel confident, and as if I could do anything I wanted. But he was also the one person who could rip that confidence away from me, in a split second. That’s a terrifying kind of power to have over someone. With the benefit of hindsight, I can see a pattern for myself, in having that kind of dynamic in a relationship, more than once. That does make me a bit scared to trust, and be vulnerable again, if I’m being entirely honest.
You shouldn’t feel like everything is your fault.
This is the thing that has probably affected me the most. I became used to always having the blame pinned on me, and not being “allowed” to give my perspective, or argue back on the odd occasion I had the strength to. I have always hated confrontation – anyone who knows me even a little, knows that. For my ex, this was perfect, because he knew I could never bring myself to fight back, and turn it into a big argument.
Even now, four months away from the situation, I still find myself explaining myself at times, when there is literally no need. I don’t even think I fully realise when I’m doing it – somewhere along the way, it just became second nature. I really do hate that I got worn down to that stage, to the point where I still explain myself way too much if I disagree with a friend, on plans, or anything. I don’t want to be that person anymore, and it is something I’m trying to unlearn.
Don’t accept it. It’s toxic behaviour to make somebody feel like it is always their fault, all the time. Like so many things highlighted in this post, it isn’t a sign of a healthy, loving relationship.
Emotional abuse is just as real as physical abuse.
A realisation I had that kind of scares me, is we hear so much about physical abuse in relationships. I remember knowing that physical abuse in relationships is a very real thing, when I was pretty young, from seeing it portrayed in soaps. But I was never really aware of emotional abuse, and the many forms it can take. I wonder if we were more educated on emotional abuse, as well as physical abuse, if it would have helped me recognise what was happening.
Emotional abuse is, frankly, terrifying, in that it is insidious, and so subtle. You can find it so easy to spot the signs in other relationships, from that outside perspective, but when you’re the one in that scenario, it can be so hard to see for yourself. Your partner can easily explain the red flags you may have noticed, or that others alerted you to, and they can manipulate you without you even realising. I know this, because it’s happened to me. I used to think I would never allow anybody to treat me that kind of way. But, it happened, and for a massive chunk of time, I didn’t even know what was happening. I believed him when he made me think that my friends didn’t like me. I believed him when he said he was the one who was improving my confidence. I believed him when he said he would always love me, and would never hurt me. And I believed him during arguments when he’d tell me he couldn’t have been abusive and argumentative, because he didn’t raise his voice. I’d just think I was wrong for feeling hurt.
Gaslighting was another big part of what I went through with my ex, again, without even knowing. I couldn’t tell you the amount of times he turned arguments back on me. He’d give me silent treatment all day, barely even looking at me, but would later say that I had been the one ignoring him. He’d do all of this, and then tell me that I was emotionally abusive, and that all he had ever done was loved me, and tried to make me happy. I could tell him I loved him, and he would tell me that I didn’t love him at all. I didn’t know that gaslighting was a thing, until just before I left, but learning about it really changed my perspective on the majority of our relationship. And it really helped me understand that leaving him was the right thing to do for me, and my mental health, even though I felt totally crazy at the time. It’s only now that I’m beginning to understand my feelings, and emotions towards everything.
The last thing I will share is a memory that made me realise how damaging emotional abuse can be, and it made me realise that we need to know about it, so we can protect ourselves, and know how to escape it. Unfortunately, at the time, I was in denial about the way my ex could treat me, so it was a long time before things ended. I was coming back from my break at work, in tears, because I’d met up with him, and all he’d done was pick arguments. A friend I worked with asked if I was okay, and I tried downplaying it as a little tiff at first, but wasn’t very convincing. I ended up confiding in her a little, about how things were, and she asked if he ever hit me. I was horrified, and immediately defended him, because in my view, he wasn’t abusive so would never do that. But afterwards, I ended up thinking to myself, that it would have been easier if he had, because that way, I would easily know that he had done something wrong. With the way he was, I was never really too sure if I was overly sensitive, or if the line had actually been crossed.
I’m glad I have this place now, to offload my thoughts, and experiences, because having an outlet has always been a huge help for me. I’m always here for a chat if you’ve read this, and need someone to talk to.
If you are experiencing any of this, or someone you know is, there is help available.
Under the Crown 