Post by Kate on May 16, 2014 6:47:05 GMT
Hi, I'm Kate. I have been in a relationship for five years, since I was 26 and he was 30. From 19-23, I was married to my high school sweetheart. We were best friends, but it felt like something was missing. I (foolishly) wanted the fairytale. We agreed to divorce, but the moment it was filed, I regretted it. I wanted to tell him, but I was afraid he'd reject me. I never have gotten over him, but a year later he moved on, so I figured I'd better do the same.
18 months later, I met my current boyfriend. I told him about my marriage, but tried to convince him that I was completely over my ex. Things were amazing in the beginning, of course. He was always sending me huge bouquets, fancy chocolates, buying me jewelry, complimenting me and telling me he didn't deserve me. I felt overwhelmed by it all, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy it. Not because I was impressed by fancy things, but more that I was flattered that I was the one he wanted to give them to.
Six months in, I started getting sick a lot. I had been dealing with unexplained digestive issues for years before that, but it had gotten worse, and then I was hit with severe fatigue, brain fog, and severe muscle pain on top of that. I was diagnosed with IBS, chronic fatigue and fibromyalgia. I was put on strong prescription painkillers and a lot of the time, I was just not up for intimacy. He was understanding at the very beginning but after a few months, he started getting frustrated and making me feel guilty. He would accuse me of thinking about my ex-husband, and loving my ex more than him.
Then one day, my pain medication went missing. I was having a very bad day, and had taken my meds only 4 hours before. I remembered putting it back in the medicine cabinet, but when I went to get another dose, it was gone. He told me to lay down and he'd look for it. I laid there for 3 hours in awful pain, then he walked into the room with my medication in his hand. He told me he'd found it under the bed. He said maybe I'd walked into the bedroom with it and put it on the bed, and it had fallen off and gotten kicked. I was pretty certain I hadn't ever taken it out of the bathroom, but I had pretty bad brain fog and didn't want to accuse him of something he hadn't done. Especially something as horrible as hiding my medication from me! After I was finally able to take another dose, I quickly started feeling better and within an hour, I felt better than ever. He wanted sex, and I was so grateful to him for "finding" my medication that I felt like I couldn't say no. I tried to put the whole thing out of my head, but a few months later it happened again, and another two months or so after that.
During all this time, I was in and out of doctors offices trying to figure out why my symptoms were continuing to get worse instead of better. In early 2012, I finally got my answer when I was diagnosed with celiac disease. Within weeks of removing gluten from my diet, I felt like a new woman. Things were fabulous between us for several months after that, and I chided myself for ever having even considered that he'd do anything to hurt me intentionally.
Then it happened. He had, over the previous couple of weeks, been saying things about my close friends; that they were too demanding of my time, that they were trying to split us up, that they were a bad influence on me. At that time, I was getting together with them once a week for maybe two to three hours at a time, and I asked him to come with me every time, and he almost always would say no. So I didn't understand at all where this was coming from. One day we got into a pretty heavy argument about it and he ended up apologizing profusely and saying he knew he was insecure. That night, he wanted to order take out for dinner. There was this pizza place that made gluten free pizza, so we decided on that. I had to use the restroom so I told him to go ahead and order it. We got the pizza home and sat down to eat, and by the time I got through 1/2 a slice, I knew it had gluten in it. I spent the rest of the night and most of the next day very sick. All of the symptoms that I thought were gone for good came back, only worse. He called the restaurant back and yelled at them, threatening to sue. But he never went further than that, no trying to find out who was responsible or anything. I suspected it was him, but again, what an awful thing I'd have been accusing him of! So, I kept my suspicions to myself, but never let him order anything for me again.
Since then, I've been feeling good physically, but our relationship has crumbled. He's been acting depressed, irritable, and he's gotten more and more controlling. We had an argument two weeks ago and he pushed me against the wall, right next to the cellar stairs. I wasn't hurt but it scared me to death. He said he was so sorry and said he'd get help for the depression. He saw his doctor the last week and was given an anti-depressant and referred to a counselor. I thought maybe things would finally turn around for good.
Last night, my hopes were shattered. I was getting ready to meet a friend for dinner and at the last second he said he didn't want me to go. He started making all those same accusations about how I didn't really love him and asking if the "friend" I was meeting was really my ex-husband. At that point, I had really just had enough, and I told him so. I said I was going out and that was that. He stood between me and the front door and when I tried to push past him, he grabbed both of my arms and shoved me into the wall. I told him to let me go and he wouldn't. I began struggling as hard as I could, cussing at him, and he suddenly hit me hard across the face, hard enough that pain shot through my jaw. He then told me to "settle down". I was in shock for a good couple of minutes, but then I knew then that there was just no way I could get away. He's just way too strong. So I quit fighting and agreed to stay home, planning on making my getaway as soon as I could. For the next two hours, he apologized over and over and telling me how much he loves me and that he'd just kill himself if I ever leave him. I know it's pathetic, but I felt sorry for him. I had several chances to leave the house last night and I didn't take them. I feel responsible for him for some reason. Before he left for work today, he repeated the same things he told me last night. I could have left as soon as he did, but I didn't. My arms are bruised from where he grabbed me and my jaw is swollen and bruised and every time I saw it in the mirror today, I asked myself what the hell was wrong with me and why was I still there. Then he called me and told me he was going to have to work late, and shortly after that, my friend who I, essentially, stood up last night called and asked if I wanted to meet up for coffee. I said yes, and left.
I haven't gone back. But my cell phone has been ringing non stop. He's left 14 messages, crying and begging me to pick up the phone and talk to him. I know that this is not a healthy relationship. I know it will only get worse and that I can't get him to change. But the thing is, I feel guilty. Responsible. And I don't know why. I just want to go home and curl up next to him and for everything to be ok again. I think about all th things he's put me through, and I know what I'm saying makes me sound batshit crazy, but I really do love him, and I'm afraid of giving up something again that just maybe could be great. I don't know.
18 months later, I met my current boyfriend. I told him about my marriage, but tried to convince him that I was completely over my ex. Things were amazing in the beginning, of course. He was always sending me huge bouquets, fancy chocolates, buying me jewelry, complimenting me and telling me he didn't deserve me. I felt overwhelmed by it all, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy it. Not because I was impressed by fancy things, but more that I was flattered that I was the one he wanted to give them to.
Six months in, I started getting sick a lot. I had been dealing with unexplained digestive issues for years before that, but it had gotten worse, and then I was hit with severe fatigue, brain fog, and severe muscle pain on top of that. I was diagnosed with IBS, chronic fatigue and fibromyalgia. I was put on strong prescription painkillers and a lot of the time, I was just not up for intimacy. He was understanding at the very beginning but after a few months, he started getting frustrated and making me feel guilty. He would accuse me of thinking about my ex-husband, and loving my ex more than him.
Then one day, my pain medication went missing. I was having a very bad day, and had taken my meds only 4 hours before. I remembered putting it back in the medicine cabinet, but when I went to get another dose, it was gone. He told me to lay down and he'd look for it. I laid there for 3 hours in awful pain, then he walked into the room with my medication in his hand. He told me he'd found it under the bed. He said maybe I'd walked into the bedroom with it and put it on the bed, and it had fallen off and gotten kicked. I was pretty certain I hadn't ever taken it out of the bathroom, but I had pretty bad brain fog and didn't want to accuse him of something he hadn't done. Especially something as horrible as hiding my medication from me! After I was finally able to take another dose, I quickly started feeling better and within an hour, I felt better than ever. He wanted sex, and I was so grateful to him for "finding" my medication that I felt like I couldn't say no. I tried to put the whole thing out of my head, but a few months later it happened again, and another two months or so after that.
During all this time, I was in and out of doctors offices trying to figure out why my symptoms were continuing to get worse instead of better. In early 2012, I finally got my answer when I was diagnosed with celiac disease. Within weeks of removing gluten from my diet, I felt like a new woman. Things were fabulous between us for several months after that, and I chided myself for ever having even considered that he'd do anything to hurt me intentionally.
Then it happened. He had, over the previous couple of weeks, been saying things about my close friends; that they were too demanding of my time, that they were trying to split us up, that they were a bad influence on me. At that time, I was getting together with them once a week for maybe two to three hours at a time, and I asked him to come with me every time, and he almost always would say no. So I didn't understand at all where this was coming from. One day we got into a pretty heavy argument about it and he ended up apologizing profusely and saying he knew he was insecure. That night, he wanted to order take out for dinner. There was this pizza place that made gluten free pizza, so we decided on that. I had to use the restroom so I told him to go ahead and order it. We got the pizza home and sat down to eat, and by the time I got through 1/2 a slice, I knew it had gluten in it. I spent the rest of the night and most of the next day very sick. All of the symptoms that I thought were gone for good came back, only worse. He called the restaurant back and yelled at them, threatening to sue. But he never went further than that, no trying to find out who was responsible or anything. I suspected it was him, but again, what an awful thing I'd have been accusing him of! So, I kept my suspicions to myself, but never let him order anything for me again.
Since then, I've been feeling good physically, but our relationship has crumbled. He's been acting depressed, irritable, and he's gotten more and more controlling. We had an argument two weeks ago and he pushed me against the wall, right next to the cellar stairs. I wasn't hurt but it scared me to death. He said he was so sorry and said he'd get help for the depression. He saw his doctor the last week and was given an anti-depressant and referred to a counselor. I thought maybe things would finally turn around for good.
Last night, my hopes were shattered. I was getting ready to meet a friend for dinner and at the last second he said he didn't want me to go. He started making all those same accusations about how I didn't really love him and asking if the "friend" I was meeting was really my ex-husband. At that point, I had really just had enough, and I told him so. I said I was going out and that was that. He stood between me and the front door and when I tried to push past him, he grabbed both of my arms and shoved me into the wall. I told him to let me go and he wouldn't. I began struggling as hard as I could, cussing at him, and he suddenly hit me hard across the face, hard enough that pain shot through my jaw. He then told me to "settle down". I was in shock for a good couple of minutes, but then I knew then that there was just no way I could get away. He's just way too strong. So I quit fighting and agreed to stay home, planning on making my getaway as soon as I could. For the next two hours, he apologized over and over and telling me how much he loves me and that he'd just kill himself if I ever leave him. I know it's pathetic, but I felt sorry for him. I had several chances to leave the house last night and I didn't take them. I feel responsible for him for some reason. Before he left for work today, he repeated the same things he told me last night. I could have left as soon as he did, but I didn't. My arms are bruised from where he grabbed me and my jaw is swollen and bruised and every time I saw it in the mirror today, I asked myself what the hell was wrong with me and why was I still there. Then he called me and told me he was going to have to work late, and shortly after that, my friend who I, essentially, stood up last night called and asked if I wanted to meet up for coffee. I said yes, and left.
I haven't gone back. But my cell phone has been ringing non stop. He's left 14 messages, crying and begging me to pick up the phone and talk to him. I know that this is not a healthy relationship. I know it will only get worse and that I can't get him to change. But the thing is, I feel guilty. Responsible. And I don't know why. I just want to go home and curl up next to him and for everything to be ok again. I think about all th things he's put me through, and I know what I'm saying makes me sound batshit crazy, but I really do love him, and I'm afraid of giving up something again that just maybe could be great. I don't know.
" I used to think. I was in shock, pure denial and went through stages of anger, regret, shame, questioning my own sanity and not wanting to face up to the real facts because I was traumatized and needed it to "not" be there - this abuse and the confusing experience.