One year ago today, the 03/08/2018 I started this blog in secret because my depression was rapidly worsening and my at the time partner/fiancé had just locked me out completely. I wasn’t allowed to post on Facebook because I was putting my entire life online. A lot has changed since. So far as I can see it’s all for the better. I almost broke down in February of this year, thinking the love of my life abandoned me, however now I know that was a blessing. Had he truly loved me he wouldn’t have done the things he did. It isn’t normal behavoir to ignore your live in partner for days at a time because they lose their job. Nor is it normal to tell them that it’s your fucking problem, when they ask you to help them get a medical appointment.
In October of 2018 one of my teeth snapped off. I wanted to go to an emergency dentist in Paris, my ex just kept yelling at me that it was my own fault for touching it. I didn’t touch it though, it snapped off. With him everything was my fault, even accidents. I got booked into the normal dentist for the following day but I was in a lot of pain and generally depressed. I was given antibiotics and told to come back a week later for an extraction. The day before this appointment I got a phone call cancelling it and offering me an appointment for the end of November. I asked my partner to try and get me another appointment with a local dentist as I was busy and he was French therefore better on the phone and everything than I was. He told me it was my own problem and hung up. I phoned a social worker I know begging her to make the phone call because I didn’t know the words to get the appointment, she said she couldn’t but she phoned my ex to get him to do it and emailed me a few addresses. My ex got me an appointment with a GP to try and get me put in psyc, claiming I was crazy. I came out with Xanax. He would shout at me to take them if I panicked. He would also do things to make me panic, if I said I didn’t understand something in French him and the man he eventually cheated on me with would take the piss out of me until I broke down in tears. He wanted me taking them because I was nicer when I was drugged. If I wasn’t I was too loud, too annoying, too hyper, too me.
When I couldn’t get an appointment I contacted as friend in England, she managed to get me one but it wasn’t cheap. I left on the boat with a few bits of clothing and everything of value. I think, realistically I had already checked out of the relationship. I just wanted to get my tooth sorted out and de-clutter somethings I cared for but no longer used. I only planned to go for a couple weeks, maybe learn to drive at the same time. One thing turned to another and I ended up in the family holiday home, then he started on me that I hadn’t found a job in France. I looked in the UK because I know how to write a CV here. He wouldn’t help with writing one in French so I didn’t see another option. He told me to google a copy paste one then started on me because I copied it and filled in the blanks. Within five days I had a job interview.
I had a near fatal asthma attack a few days later and while in the ambulance to the bigger hospital I realized I didn’t want to leave where I was. I had been in contact with him all day yet he was so distant with his replies, he was either on his PlayStation or falling asleep on FaceTime. Later on he told me he wished I had died because it would have made things easier. I don’t know what to make of that.
I dyed my hair and got so much criticism that I was ugly and I had to dye it back. In the meantime I organized Christmas with my family, he got upset because I didn’t want to go to his family’s warped Christmas where I was clearly unwelcome.
February he blocked me while I was having a panic attack. He’d been fucking about for a few days by acting all depressed and distant even though I’d been going to see him monthly. He tried to claim I didn’t visit for six months, he had no concept of time. I got dumped that day while on shift, then I got called an idiot for taking my anti-anxiety meds. The doctor said take one to two pills until the panic attack passes. I took 11 and landed in A&E.
Stupidly I went back to patch things up. It went very far down hill. I got attacked by him and his friend for recording a conversation where I was being harassed and threatened. I wasn’t allowed to pack my things. I was forced into sex because even when I said no I was told he was paying for somewhere for me to live. He tried to slice my wrists with a kitchen knife. I wasn’t allowed to lock him out of our joint flat when he attacked me. I had to phone the police twice in three days. I pressed charges. I ended up in A&E. I was given painkillers, but I still had to share the bed, my painkillers went missing and I felt really bad after. I have reason to believe I was drugged. I begged anyone with a car to come get me so I could take my belongings with me. He promised we’d still be friends, since then I’ve only had harassing messages even though I’ve blocked him on multiple platforms.
I came home, broken, to yet another random hook up. Trying to convince myself it’s all okay.
Now I can safely say that I have landed on my feet. I have a job. I haven’t had a panic attack since I have left France. It’s been a bumpy road at 90mph, but I’ve made it. I’ve gone from greeting at not remembering what I used to eat before I was trapped, to spending four days running eating avocados on toast with salmon. I did nine days sober with no desire for alcohol, where as in France I was drinking daily. I’ve done more than nine days in a stretch too but after that, there’s no point in counting.
I survived domestic violence.