I have a new friend you guise. Another American that recently moved here, and we have so much in common, it seems. I went to her house yesterday for an Art date (Just sit around and chat while being creative – it’s been a good 7ish years since I’ve had a friend to do that with.)
We got to talking about stuff… as you do… learning about each other’s parents, childhood, past relationships. We talked about blogging and our other creative endeavours over the years.
One thing she said that struck a chord with me is that even though she has had some dramas in her life, she feels like she hasn’t had anything so intense as stories such as David. (I am of the opinion that some of her experiences could be close if not on par with much of my drama…)
I’ve always felt like my life is relatively drama-free compared to other people. At least, maybe, events having been spread out enough that it doesn’t feel as frequent in nature. Sometimes I now think I wish I had more to draw upon for my writing, haha… though I’m sure at the time I wouldn’t appreciate further dramatic events.
I told her I still have a hard time thinking and relaying the fact that I’ve been in abusive relationships and situations – actually calling them as such – because I know there are women who have had it worse than me, or for longer term than me.
I especially struggle with saying Wyatt was sexually abusive – though I know deep down he had the control and it started as such. Sometimes it feels as though there is some grey area there. I got to a compliant stage and did as was expected. I believed it was right for our relationship after awhile. Sometimes I still feel some fault for that. It wasn’t what I wanted, but I was compliant. I convinced myself eventually that I did want it all. I embraced the “promiscuity.” Sometimes it almost physically hurts to say those words and admit that it wasn’t always my choice; I wasn’t always in control of my own body, or that I was manipulated.
Wyatt was abusive overall. I have no need to explain other events right now – it’s well enough explained in older posts and in my book… But I at least didn’t feel in actual danger with him. If it had gone longer term than the two years I was with him, if it had escalated as we got older, I have no doubt it would have gotten worse and eventually I may have found myself feeling in more immediate danger…
I always call Wyatt “my abusive ex” in real life now because I don’t prefer to use his first name. I referred to him as such to my friend, and then realized after detailing events with David that she might be confused – so I explained in the moment.
As she stated, David drama was intense. David was a whirlwind of just a few weeks and I was married so I never thought of him as an “ex.” We never actually started a relationship as such. But he actually made me feel in danger. He’s the reason I finally took up martial sports; because there is still a fear – remote though the chances may be – that I would run into him again one day. It hadn’t occurred to me until she stated it that there would be other abused women that think that my story is worse than theirs. I suppose it is the physicality of it. Types of abuse the abused feel they can rationalize away easier; emotional, verbal, and sexual abuse in relationships are harder to wrap our minds around – especially when comparing it to physical domestic violence.
Sometimes I think “If only I had other dramatic events to write about for my blog…” Sometimes I feel like maybe apologizing to you guys for making loops around to the same topics and the same men frequently. On the other hand, people seem to respond well to these stories… My friend said that I am open and make it relatable… so I suppose that’s why.
I’d apologize for writing about Wyatt and David again, but you know… Deep down I’m glad it wasn’t worse. Deep down I’m glad I don’t have further past drama to have lived through and to write about. Deep down I know I was abused, though I still sometimes try to rationalize to myself that it wasn’t that bad.
Deep down, I am still scared of David and I have no other outlet than to tell my stories… and then go kick a punching bag.