It was a long time ago now; I got into a relationship after my marriage broke up and the person (I will not name any names, I know who they are - and so do they) seemed wonderful. They were attentive, loving, caring and everything that my husband had not been - until we moved in together.
By the time we had been living together for a year, I could not recognise myself. I went from being outgoing and friendly to being almost agoraphobic and frightened to interact with other people. I became convinced - based on being told continually - that I had mental health problems, so went to see a doctor. My partner came too and told the doctor, while I was sitting there that I was a compulsive liar. The doctor believed everything that was said to her - and I suppose she had no reason to think any differently. I ended up taking anti-depressants and being diagnosed with a borderline personality disorder - mostly based on conversations with my partner - not me, as I was supposed to be constantly telling lies.
The worst part of it was my kids. Social services became involved with things - as I was, according to my partner, incapable of caring for them. I was told, very clearly, that the only reason they were not taken away from me was that I was with my wonderfully supportive partner. I felt trapped; I knew my kids were not safe - but they were only with me of the person that they needed protecting from. I tried to ask friends for help - but that compulsive liar thing made them go straight to my partner and tell them. I ended up putting my kids in care, voluntarily; it was one of the hardest decisions I have ever had to make. When they came home, I had to undertake parenting lessons, and be treated like a criminal. Now, from the perspective of the social workers, I can understand why. But, on a personal level - I was so very unhappy. I was controlled - completely. If I said anything against my partner - that wonderful supportive person who stopped me from hurting myself or my children - I was dismissed as lying.
Eventually, I found someone who was able to help me. I stopped taking the pills and found the strength to leave my partner. It has taken many, many years for me to find some peace in my life - to understand that I was abused and that the person doing it was very good at covering it up to the rest of the world and that I rationally have no reason to feel guilty for anything. But, I will never forget being called their pet freak.
The effect of being mentally abused has taken its toll on the rest of my life though. I am so very shy now. I have severe confidence problems and as for trust...
And the kids - they have grown up with a mother who is frightened of everything - and everyone. If I am feeling frightened, I apologise constantly. I still jump like a rabbit if I think I have done something, and feel guilty for everything that goes on around me. They suffer the effects of me being abused - despite me trying my hardest not to let it.
Abuse is not just about fists - and not just about there and then. It is a long time since I left that abusive relationship - but I am still suffering - and so are my family.
