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spaceforestart) wrote2017-10-19 09:50 pm
personal: abuse and recovery
First, few things:
In this post I talk about abuse in relationship, emotional and sexual, there are mention of rape and abuse under the guise of bdsm, so if that can be triggering for someone, I advise them not to read or proceed with caution.
please note that english is my second language, I’ll probably mess up grammar more than once here, I do it regularly (and later look on something I wrote and think ‘what the hell?’) but I feel more comfortable speaking about it in english (and also I have better vocabulary in english; polish, for example, doesn’t differenate between „victim” and „survivor” and it’s important difference for me), so just ignore it (also 100% sure there are some typos I missed, sorry about that)
This post is also 6k words long.
The comments on this entry will be screened, just in case.
Hi. I’m Nin, I’m 34, professional artist, lesbian, and abuse survivor. I’m going to talk a bit about my abusive relationship and aftermarch of it, and also about figuring out my identity.
I was one of these kids that gets labelled as shy. And also mature for their age, you know the type. I also used to run away from my group’s classroom in preschool, when I was upset. Ladies that take care of us were terrified. In general, I was atypical kid in time and place when that wasn’t something anybody could just think of, because, hey, I wasn’t stupid or something, so I’m normal, just shy, right? Sigh. But it’s not my point here, just background info.
I loved drawing from as long as I can remember, so I spent most of the free time doing just that. I don’t remember, however, drawing boys or men, unless it was „draw your family” thing. I guess I assumed that girls are prettier and more interesting to draw. Sometimes wnat I really was drawing, was dresses and outfits. Sometimes there were wedding dresses, and I would put some flowers, carpet and benches in background, but there was only one time I put in a groom in there last minute, squished in the corner. Other girls were drawing couples, I guess that was the reason.
I wasn’t imagining future me having a fiance or a husband. Or kids. I don’t think I even declared that I don’t want that, it just never occured to me as a possibility.
I changed school when we moved when I was ten and pretty soon I found myself being bullied by the large group of kids in my class, who happened to be popular and influencial, and soon after, most of the school know that I’m that crazy one and was nasty to me. The best fun was to make me run away from classroom, crying. Teachers and parents didn’t offer me any help, just advice to not get provoked. You know the story. I guess some of them, and my parents for certain, really tried to help, but they had no idea how and instead made it worse, because I believed I’m bullied because there is something wrong with me and it’s my responsibility to stop it. I tried to befriend my bullies for years. I didn;t graduate from last year in school because I skipped too many classes. I didn’t really have strenght to face that anymore. And then, surprise! I’m coming to repeat my last year, and suddenly nobody is rude to me. Everyone treats me normally. Teachers come up to me telling me how happy they are that my class is gone because that group was so terrible. Apparently nobody helped me because the group that bullied me was serious trouble, and since I guess nobody wanted to expell like, ten or fifteen students at once, they just let it go (these kids were really terrible, I remember once they made substitute teacher, who was seasoned professional, run away from classroom crying, just like me, and years later other teacher told me that she tried to hand in resignation that day). Anyway, I discovered that it’s not really my fault, I graduated school and went to art high school.
During my time in primary school, there come the time when girls started to be interested in boys. I wasn’t. I never gave it much thought. I assumed that nobody would want to date me, and I was kinda relieved that I’m spared this problem. Obviously, living in the society that tells girls that they schould want boys was taking its toll on me, I was thinking sometimes that nobody would want me, ever, and I’ll be alone. There came the time, during my last year (when things were finally normal with school) when I go into the phase ‘I’m better than other girls’, me and some three other girls were ‘alternative’, we were sure we’re so intellectual and smart, you know that. The matter of boys was still not at all important for me, mostly. I was kinda low key worried that I will never be in relationship, because I have no idea how to, youy know, initiate anything that could develop in romantic teritory. Then I went to high school, and become rather busy, and also rather happy. It was good time for me, I was surrounded by other weirdos and we were making art. I had to repeat first year because our maths teacher was an asshole dinosaur that believed students should wear uniforms and not talk unless talked to, and since it was art aschool, he was permanently cranky and people who were not very good with maths, were constantly in trouble, but it was minor setback at that time, and I had better maths teacher next year.
I befriended some girls (older years were more evenly mixed, but my year and younger were mostly girls) and sometimes there would be some... peeps about Not Being Straight. But very small, and even tho I knew about lgbtqa peole by then (it was not much, mostly that there are gay people. I don’t think I knew about bisexuality then, probably not, without internet access I had no way of learning), it was such a small and fragmentary knowledge, that I wouldn’t even start to assume that it could apply to me. After all, I have a crush on a boy! I had. Huge aesthetic crush, I was content to look at him and again I was starting to believe that there is something wrong with me, because when my friend was trying to persuade me to talk to him, to push something, I was so puzzled. Why would I do that? I didn’t even knew that I don’t acually want to date this boy, I just thought I’m being weird and shy and scared. It wasn’t until years later, that I learned about compulsive heterosexuality and realized how much this fucked me up. I used to have crushes on girls, and I never rewlized then what that was. I thought that there are girls I want to be friends with.
I was always a hippie type, since I was very young, and when i started to have social life, mostly among alternative circles, I would often wonder if I even be with someone, but I had troubles visualizing how it could happen. I had no idea at the time, but I must’ve already had that vibe of the person with self confidence, because while I was considered attractive, I don’t remember anyone hitting on me? Or maybe I just never realized that they were. But still, I never questioned that I could be anything but straight.
When I was 18, I’ve meet a guy that showed interest in me, and despide numerous warning signts, I decided to pursue this relationship. Mostly, I lacked knowledge and experience to notice these signs, and even when some things seemed not okay, I thought that this is the way world is.
I did not understood this at that time, but what I actually wanted was emotional intimacy, companionship, having someone close. And he provided me with, well, not really this, but approximation close enough to make me feel nice, so I happily fooled myself into thinking I’m in love.
At first, everything was good. He was nice, and he did really good impression at people (as many abusers do). We shared some interests, or rather – it would seems so. what was initially presented as interest in slavic paganism, turned out to be sorry excuse for hate. Because to add to this, he wasn’t just abuser, he also happened to be white supremacist and homophobe, but when he showed me this part of himself, he already manipulated me into dependency and compliance, so I stayed silent, even tho part of me wanted to scream and run away. I was afraid, of so many things. I’m not sure I can even pinpoint the moment when it all turned from ‘playing the relationship’ to manipulation. At some point he told me that when we first meet romantically (our relationship had a weird start, I even wrote it, but then I became really uncomfortable so I decided to skip details, anyway he injured his knee in attempt to, I think, impress me and evening ended in emergency room) he intended to just have sex with me, I think he never planned on long term relationship, but when it happened he probably decided to play along, it must’ve been fun to pretend to be brave white warrior wih a nice obedient girl at his side ;P And then he just fucked me up, because he could, because he get off from it, idk? His mother once told me that his father, her ex husband, was violent. I should’ve run away when i learned that, but still, I didn’t know that. Nobody ever told me.
Somethig else we seemed to share, was interest in bdsm. Except not really. It was all long before 50 shades, but I’m sure that he loved that thing. What he wanted had nothing to do with healthy bdsm, it was abuse masquerading as it. Because I had interest, but not knowledge and no internet at home, and no way of learning on my own, it was easy for him to manipulate m into thinking that what we’re doing is the only way. He only ever bring me some porn magazine, mostly it was disgusting sexist thing, but some less fucked up things could be found there and that’s how I learned about safewords. Except we could never use it, because it’s not right way, it’s not ‘real’ then. Sometimes he would come to visit and if I didn’t want to engage is something, he would get angry, yelling at me and threating to leave if I didn’t comply (in meaning both to break up with me and to just leave my place, since he just come to have fun).
About two months into relationship, while things were still looking bright, he was staying at my place for a night. We already started having sex (he was my first parther). In the morning, I woke up with him inside me. It was… terrifying. I froze. I t felt so, so wrong, and I didn’t have any idea why. Nobody ever told me about consent. I played it down, pretended I’m fine, and I remember thinking that now, when I’m in relationship, I have to get used to things like that. It makes me sad to this day. I grow up with the idea that my body is supposed to be sexually available to my parther all the time. It took me years to understand why I was feeling so horrible. I thought I was being oversensitive. I think it was almost ten years until I accepted that I was raped.
I guess my life-long lack of confidence and low self esteem were treats to him, it made me so easy to manipulate.There was a lot of gaslighting too, and I still don’t know if some things he told me were lies, or true, or mixed up. For example once in late february or so, he mentioned that he got a valentine, and it was from a girl that was into him, but he told her that „he have no plans of breaking up with me for now”, apparently it was so wonderful and I should’ve been grateful. I asked what she wrote and he got secretive, and then an hour later or so went to take out trash, leaving me alone in his flat with this disputed valentine letter laying at the top of a drawer. Like an invitation to violate his privacy, and being paranoid and scared and worried and idk what else, I did, and tbh, to this day I’m nor sure if he didn’t wrote this thing himself. Not my brightest moment, sure, I never even thought of reading other people’s letters before or after, but it was a bad time.
Other time he showed up one day (it was like that at that point – he would not see me for weeks, because work, work was real because I went to meet with him there few times, and then showed up, mostly for sex, always expecting me to be available), being all brooding and serious and spun a tale how one of his friend is so angry at him that he wants to kill him, because of some girl. I don’t remember what he told me, something about this friend being into some girl, and apparently this is some angel, his perfect woman, but since he is with me, he will not puruse her, oh so noble of him. He declared that he will try to get a gun (obv illegal because this is not usa) ti protect himself, and that we will not see each other often, that he’s so depressed because this was his best friend (funny I’ve meet that guy few times and the never looked to me like best friend) yadda yadda. Again, I have no idea if any of this was true. I do know that he cheated on me, I found out without really looking – once he told me about site and message board about fishing he used and even told me ‘go have a look into gallery, I know you dont like fishing but there are some pretty landscape photos too’, so one day I went and found photos from some forum meeting and him with some other girl, apparently they come together and tell everyone they’re a couple. Once he tried to have sex with one our friend, who was my friend before I introduced them. One day she lety us know that her family is away and if we like we can come hang out, but I wasn’t feeling like going out, then my partner would leave at evening, rpesumably for home. Some time ago my friend told me that he came to her house late that evening. She asked where I am, he replied that probably at home. She realzied something was not right, after same small talk she made him a bed in other room and then he asked her to sleep with him. She was shocked but she pretended to be calm and asked what about me, to which he told her that I don’t have to know about it. She refused and went to sleep in her room. She told me this few weeks later, when together with one of our common friend they tried to talk to me about the whole thing, since they weren’t stupid and knew that my relationshp is probably really fucked up. They were trying to make me realize I’m being abused. But it was too early for me and I dismissed their concerns. I cried and told them that I’m afraid, that I’m lonely and lost etc, but I refused to place any blame on him.
There were many more things like that, mostly small, I don’t remember many of them clearly, but only in hindsight I saw how much effort went into manipulating me.
During the time we were together, I started to use birth control (his idea). First pill I was prescrived wasn’t the best for me, it caused me to put on weight. Now, about my weight: I had genetic tendency to be overweighted, and with my build, I was never willowy thin and I’ll never will be. At 18, I was actually pretty slim, I just, for example, never had flat stomach. He would always make lowkey comments about it and supported me being on diet (which I constantly tried, because again, I live in a society that glorifies women being thin and dieting), often musing to me how some of my friends are pretty and his type. I don’t think he ever in the entire time our relationship lasted complimented me. So I put on more weight, he tells me that it wasn’t the pill, it’s entirely my fault because I only talk about losing weight but never do anything. His ‘support’ showed itself in him side-eyeing me when I ate, so I was too afraid to eat when he was near, I was basically allowed tangerines (bananas absolutely not, they have too much calories!) and joghurt, something incredibly stupid regarding the fact that I’m lactose intolerant. And while we still used to spend more time together, it was a lot of activity - long walks, evening at parties, etc, and me going on some fucking tangerines. I was coming home starving and stuffing myself with food, then feeling sick and guilty, and started to dive dangerously close to bulimia. It wasn’t healthy at all and obviously causaed my weight to increase. He started demanding that I will not undress to have sex, he tried to told me that it was because it’s more sexy and spontanous, but I wasn’t that stupid. So I hated my body more and more, which didn’t do me any good.
We were seeing each other rarely, and he make sure each time to suggest to me that I’m lucky we’re seeing each other at all, and I was terrified that he’ll leave me, even tho part of me knew that something is terribly wrong. I couldn’t tell what and why, but I was sure that relationship is supposed to make me happy, not miserable. But I could only blame myself. I was sure that this is my fault, that I’m doing something wrong.
All the time around him I was walking on eggshells, because I was afraid I will anger him, and he will yell at me, hit me, or something else. And basically everything could make him angry. I tried to figure out what so I can avoid it (on the assumption that this will help me to „improve” myself), but I had no idea it wasn’t really anything I did, I could’ve just been breathing too loud and it would be enough. He would snap out of the sudden but at the same time he could still be polite and nice to someone else (for example sometimes when we were somewhere in public with other people he would barely talk to me, and when he did, he was angry and cold, and at the same time he would chat happily with other people). Sometimes he would show up already angry and I was doing my best to be as non-existent ans possible
He somehow manipulated me into leaving school before things went downhill. Not even sure how. I loved that school, I was very proud that I get in (it was hte very best of art schools in my country) and somehow… he pushed me into leaving it. I was so sure it’s a good idea. He talked and talked, he blamed education reform and keep telling it will be better, and I believed. For more than ten years after that I kept having dreams where somehow I got accepted back, and I would woke up crying. I felt so ashamed. I felt like I disappointed my teachers, my lifelong art teacher, my family, myself. Tbh I still regret that.
After that, I tried evening school for adults, to at least have my education completed, but my depression was blooming and depression does not go well with education. I kept skipping classes, I was so unmotivated, I started having problem with alcohol, tho I didn’t notice that yet. My circle of friends who were not somehow related to him was smaller and smaller, and the worse things were, I pushed people more and more away, because I was ashamed, I didn’t know what to tell them, I wanted to believe that everything will be better once I realize what I’m doing wrong, once I lose weight, once I finish school once this, once that. There were short periods of time when it seemed better (at least in my screwed perspective), I guess because he had to maintain the balance between having me miserable and not losing me for good.
I think important moment was when I got internet at home, at the very end od 2005. I shared computer with my dad and brother, so time was limited, but I did something I never thought possible for me (I used internet before, at my friend’s place, my experience was limited, but since I believed myself to be shy, I assumed that chatrooms and forums are not for me, because talking to people?? Impossible). I registered on tolkien forum (since I always loved his books and it was not long after movies went out), and started talking to people, and very soon, I visited chatroom there, and started to making friends. Friends who were not connencted to my partner in any way. It was so refreshing.
I also now had access to info on bdsm and learned a lot about how healthy sane bdsm looks like. It was eye-opening.
I think my parther was really angry about me having internet. It was the end on him controlling what information I’m getting. We almost stopped seeing each other. One day he called, talking about how he have an opportunity to get second job on weekends, and he needs it, and if he gets it we will have to stop seeing each other because there will be no time. I guess he was testing me, and since now I had more life that wasn’t revolving around him, I guess I didn’s show enough desperation. After some time, some time in late february, so not even three months after I got internet, he came, very serious, and broke up with me, playing it as something very sad, telling how this relationship is complicated, and it’s him, and I don’t remember what else. Despite me having some sort of haven with my new friends, I was shattered, because I was still in a very dark place. At first, I hoped he change his mind soon. I didn’t tell anyone, except my mom about the breakup (I never told my family just how much was going on, and I don’t want to now, there’s no point in worrying them after so many years). I kept sending him sad and loving texts (careful not to send too many, only one a day and not every day, so he won’t call me annoying, not that he replied). But after some time I stopped, because while I still wanted him to come back, I now had a life, even though it was not much, crippled by my depression and all (I was taking antidepressants at that time). After about idk, two months od something like that, he started to call me every now and then, at first it were very short calls, he kept it on colder, ‘friendly’ level, and then if got longer and more weird, especially when I started to figuring out that I’m actualy better off without him. In the summer I was over with the idea of coming back together with him (can’t say „over it” – I had loong was to heal ahead of me). In august he called and talked how he wants us to remain friends,. I agreed to that and to meeting him. He came over, but i didn’t wanted him at home, so we went to the empty fields that at that time were near my home. It was semi wild area, with bushed and grooves of trees, people used it to walk their dogs and just walks, drunks were drinking there, you know this kind of place. We were talking, at first on neutral topics, then we sat down and he tried to get physical. He tried to persuade me to have sex, and while saying no was still new idea to me, I managed, ended the meeting and since that time, I stopped answering his calls and replying to messages. I told my parents that i don’t want to talk to him, if he calls on landline. He started to call and call, at any time of day or night. He would send texts with more and more riddiculous excuses and stories, calling me intimate names, as if we were still together. At that time, it didn’t occured to me that this brakup was staged, that it was to tech me my place (apparently even after years of abuse and manipulation I was still demanding too much respect, we can’t have it, right?). Much later, I started to think that it was most likely scenario. He wanted to give me cold shoulder, so when he graciously accept me back, I will know my place. But he miscalculated. The ida was to leave me in the void, since he already dealt with any of my friends that could’ve been of help for me. But he couldn’t control my online friends, and they were the reason I found my footing and my strenght back. I’m pretty sure they saved my life, not only during that time, but also later, because it was at least two years before I was sort of stable after all that.
I’m not sure when he gave up on calling me constantly, probably soon after I picked up he home phone when he called and we had the most awkward conversation ever. It was mostly him breathing into the speaker, after saying hello, until I asked, rather annoyed, if he had called for a reason, because if not, I’m busy and don’t have time to listen to him breathing. He then started to asking why I don’t answer his calls, to whcih i replied that I have nothing to say to him and he needs to stop. He asked if I have another boyfriend. I nearly laughed. Oh yes, apparently that could be the only reason I don’t want to go back to him. I told him it’s none of his bussines and ended the call. I think he called more, but without success (still remember some call taht wake me at 3am, I was so angry I almost picked it up to yell at him but I didn’t)
Years later my brother told me that around that time he and his friends kicked my out ex from our neighbourhood many times (my brother is taller than Sam Winchester and rather intimidating, and in a classic brotherly way cares about his big sister). I’m grateful for that and for not telling me this at that time, I would probably be too scared to leave the house.
It wasn’t until eem, three years ago? Until I was brave enough to venture into part of the city he lived in. Before, I was always scared that I met him accidentally. I mean I wasn’t afraid anymore of him but the idea of seeing him was appaling (I’ve met him like that in town in 2008, I think, I was with a friend waiting for more friends in popular meeting place, he walked up to us, my friend would later tell me that I had a look of sheer terror and panic on my face. My friend thought he’s one of the people we’re waiting for and introduced herself, and realized who’s this after he told her his name, he then stupidly asked if I recognize him, I think I answered aomething along the lines „unfortunately, yes” and then he just stand there for about a very awkward minute in silence and left, hopefully because he ralized we won’t have happy reunion. I never wanted to repeat that)
In 2013, during polcon, I came back home at night to a message from him on tumblr. I told him my dA username once, and I guess that’s how he found me there. It made me feel sick, but also I felt like facepalming, because it was such a stupid message. It was worded like he thought I wouldn’t recognize him (despite being sent from account with nickname I knew he used). There was no block feature on tumblr by then, onluy ignore option. So he could still reblog and like my posts. I deleted most of my personal photos from there. One of my friend sent me a link to some article about online stalking being offense, with some advices about legal help, and I made a post with that link in which I hinted I will go that way if I have problems again. I reported harassement on tumblr, and after blocking became available, I used it. After some time I checked and his account was deactivated, I guess he did it after I reported him. I’m not sure if he still stalks me there. I hope not. My brotehr works in the area he worked, and apparently still did last winter, because he saw him, and good news, my ex is still afraid of my brother. Good, I hope it will keep him away from me for good. My brother also knows that this is not my fav topic, so he won’t be bringing this up.
I don’t think I can finish this with something clever. I don’t thing there is anything to say. It took me years to heal, to regain my confidence, to get back my life. I avoided things that were inportant and intweresting to me, because they were triggering. For years I couldn’t stand anything related to norse mythology and viking era, because it was reminding me of him. The same went for slavic mythology. I stopped listening to some music. I did many things like that. After I got better, I felt like I’m picking up on living after being stuck in a dark for years. For a long time, I thought that I’m overreacting in thinking I was abused, and I was too scared to said anything. For a long time, at first, I thought that at the beginning it was honest relationship that gone wrong at some point, even after I stopped blaming myself. I had drinking problem, and only realized it after my grandfather died, fortunately I was not so deep that it would’ve been too difficult to get out by myself, and that’s why I don’t drink alcohol now. It took me years to realize that I was being manipulated nearly from the start. I started opening up to people only few years ago, so now some of my friends know at least parts of this story, but writing it was really emotionally exhausting. It felt good to let it out, tho.
It’s worth noting that I edited this document multiple times during the day, adding things as I remembered them. There is probably a lot more to add, but I think I conveyed general picture and most imporetant things and I don’t want to spend a week immersed in bad memories.
I’m fine now. As fine as I can be. I survived and it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Never thought I could do something like that. And while I know that what happened to me was horrible and should never happen to anyone, I would really like to remind readers that I’m a survivor. While my experiences has left its mark on me for good, I’m a recovered person.
So while I’m at it, I would like to thank many people in my life, who may not even know they helped me. My family who was understanding and supporting during my most challenging times, even when they had little idea what has happened and I was often ungrateful, angry and uncooperative. People I’ve met online, especially the ones who are still in my life -- I think you all know I’m talking about you, you probably saved my life just be being in it when everybody was gone <3
Initially, it was difficult for me to deal with my sexuality. Despite starting to learn about healthy relationships, it took me long, long time to accept that there are safe way to practice bdsm and every time I had any sexual needs, I felt guilty, because part of mye thought that by having these needs, I sabotage my recovery. Or a long, long time I wished I was asexual, because anything related to sex was triggering bad memories. In that situation, it would be long time before I would be able to figure out my identity. It’s time go go back to the beginning of this text, where I talked about never actually having feelings in regard to boys/men. I went for a relationship with a man, because he showed interest, and society taught me that I shouldn’t be alone, and because I wanted to be close with someone, and I never realized (despide knowing that gay people exist) that there are other options.
I started to discovering that I like girls when I was about 19. My partner did his best to make me believe that this is „normal for straight girls” and even encouraged me to make out with my friend at the part (to satisfy his needs, obviously). Btw, she was great kisser, I regret that we lost contact, and hope that she’s fine today.
After I was well enough during my recovery to get into figuring my sexuality, I initially assumed I’m bisexual. Then I explored idea of pansexuality and for a while I thought it suits me. Than I started realizing that something is wrong, and come to the realization that I’m assuming that I like men, because I was in relationship with one. I was worried that I will not be believed, and also I kept clinging to bi/pan/maybe polysexual labels, because I was afraid that I will be viewed as someone who makes all of this up. I struggled with fear for quite some time. I wad afraid that people would assume I’m lying about being a lesbian, that they would view my past relationship as something invalidating my identity. There was also fear about people thinking I’m making this up because I have aversion to men. It took me a long time to accept myself fully, and understand that my past doesn not make my identity fake. The only thing fake was my view of my identity in the past. Seriously, every now and then I remember some gay thing I did and it was always so obvious. Or, it would’ve been, if we lived in society that is not so heteronormative and lack proper sex ed.
Ok., fin, I guess? I gather it’s all grim and absolutely horrible in parts, but remember it’s in the past for me. I don’t exist there anymore, I exist now.
And I think I’m ready to accept the idea of maybe being in relationship again, if I met right woman. I’m ready for a possibility od meeting a woman in he future, even tho idea of sharing all that emotional baggage with someone is still a bit much (or rather, how I often feel, dumping it on someone), not to mention the rest of my neurodivergent self. But I’m getting there.
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