Last update: Augusts 01, 2017
Until a few years ago I lived with people much younger than me. If it hadn't been for my decision to resume my studies, I might never have come into contact with them. They belonged to the generation between mine and my children's. What amazed me, especially in girls, was the fact that they threw themselves into relationships of real psychological abuse without realizing it. Was this going to be their future?
They told me how they discussed and "quarreled" with their partner: a speech that always had the same structure. At first they explained the reason for their anger, then they told me how they had reached the limit and, in the end, they showed a sense of guilt like: "Is that he had a bad day" or "That poor man did not behave then so bad…".
If I have to tell the truth, these stories troubled me a lot. They reflected what a girl should never go through or endure. The girls, on the other hand, excused or justified their partners, even though they did not agree with the way they were treated and sometimes not even with the justification they clung to.
Some mornings I saw them arrive with a sad look, they told me other anecdotes to the point of externalizing everything that worried them. It was so obvious, those weren't the faces of girls in love. They were the reflection of an addictive and toxic relationship, invaded by psychological abuse.
And I asked myself: "Can't I do anything to warn them?", "Each of us has to see with our own eyes and suffer the terrible consequences of mistreatment to be aware of it?". I will now report, for them and for anyone who may be useful, the testimony of a girl, a friend, who gradually entered the trap of psychological abuse without even realizing it, until it was "almost" too late. .
A real case of psychological abuse
Maybe I had to understand (innocent mind) that while I was trying to feel the air I was breathing, I had a lived person next to me, older and more experienced. She watched the whole situation with a great deal of interest as I walked to the beat of my heart, vulnerable.
I let myself be "enchanted", "fell in love" by a ghost dressed in a seductive dress designed especially for me. I have not seen him, I have not identified him, at the time nothing was known about psychological abuse. I wasn't able to open my eyes until it was too late. I just wanted to feel like myself and give my son a perfect childhood, under the banner of the "happy family" I had always wanted..
When I got pregnant, he showed himself for who he really was: he treated me badly, yelled at me, insulted me, and used any stupid reason to fight. He made me feel inferior and unable to do anything. Who was I without him?
When I became a mother, the situation got worse
When the baby was born, the course of the river became more and more polluted. He even attacked me while I was holding the baby. Since then I have tried to avoid his insults, his fits of anger, I let myself be convinced by his “I'm sorry”, by his apologies after the verbal assaults, which were more and more frequent. I was trapped in a relationship of psychological abuse. Most of the time I felt responsible for her insults, was it me, with my strong character, who was to blame for everything?
He had stopped working and helping out around the house. He drank a beer, became the devil himself, verbally assaulted me, beat me and smashed whatever came within range. But I continued to stick to my goal: a happy family. “Everyone is fighting,” I said to myself.
When he wanted to fight, I avoided him, it was not possible that shouts and insults could be heard in my house as in my parents' house. The worst thing was that attitude that hurts, that does not heal and that leaves a deeper and deeper mark.
He started abusing our son when he was 3 years old. She humiliated him as he did me, she was an easy prey for the hatred she had inside of her. I hate why, then? I'll never know. I know one thing, though, he always made sure he had a victim close at hand. He was clearly unhappy.
Friends were key to opening our eyes
Little by little I expanded my social circle, I made friends even though I was a rather hermetic person. And I saw, I began to see, they showed me that those weren't normal fights. I was about to say goodbye to my self-esteem.
I was killing myself working in and out of the house to earn some money. In the summer, after having spent 9 or 10 hours serving the tables, I took refuge for a few hours from my friends to find comfort in their words and in their affection. When winter came, however, I returned to my prison and my dream drifted further and further away.
My son was 3 years old and at least I hadn't looked in the mirror for two years, I had lost the desire and interest to make myself presentable. Why, then? I saw myself ugly and tired. I felt old at 30, she yelled at me and despised me at the meetings we went to together, nothing I did was right. Until my gaze became sad and dull, like the sea on a moonless night.
I took it as a warning sign. These were not the plans.
Awareness heightened my anxiety even more
I felt I was totally responsible for the life I had chosen and was lying to everyone about our relationship. I made excuses and even managed to convince others that I was losing a lot of hair due to a hormonal problem.
One day something broke and my body told my mind it had had enough. I had an anxiety crisis that brought me closer to the gates of death, I had the feeling that my body had stopped working little by little. First, I stopped feeling my fingers, then my face, tongue, arms, legs ... My breathing was losing its rhythm.
I do not wish anyone to feel the sensation of their body stopping to function slowly. My friends took me to the hospital, I stayed one night for observation, I slept there, he left home, with our son. The village doctor, in addition to being a friend of mine, was a psychiatrist and advised me to stay at a friend's house for the rest of the week to be quieter and recover.
I have learned to say no
My convalescence lasted 5 days, until I returned home. He was there, on the veranda, I went up the stairs and hugged him, I told him: "I'm back home, I'm much better". He rejected me with a push that made me lose my balance. He started yelling at me, but I don't remember his words, I couldn't hear him, I just remember that the screams, the blows, the violence of his gestures and his voice terrified me.
I was afraid for myself, for my son and for the friend who had accompanied me. I did what everyone does in case of fear: run away. Obviously I took my 5 year old son, I was afraid that he would hurt him to hurt me. I thought just that, that he would do it to get revenge on me. I hadn't done anything!
We walked away terrified, with goosebumps, I couldn't say a word all the way. Nobody spoke once we got to my friend's house. Shortly after, he arrived. I went out onto the second floor terrace and saw it.
And he said once again: "I'm sorry!"
You know what? It was too late now. The only thing that came out of my mouth, from the depths of my soul, was: “NO! I can't stand it anymore, you're done with me! ”. I have decided to escape from the golden cage of psychological abuse.
I wanted him to be happy, since he wasn't happy with me. I asked him to seek happiness and told him that I loved him very much. Immediately after the separation, he called me and sent me messages in which he wished me to die, insulted me and threatened to take revenge sooner or later for "the humiliation suffered".
No, we don't want to see it, it just hurts us when it's with us, it sinks both of us, it sinks me and my son. Being away is the only way to have what everyone should have: peace of mind, for me and especially for my son. For no reason in the world will I allow them to hurt him, not even emotionally. It is my duty as a mother to educate him so that he does not confuse love with humiliation.
Because those who love do not psychologically torture their family.
