Our happy life started to go bitter quite soon after we got moved in together. He would ask me where I was going and who I was meeting all the
time. He would get angry if I was home late or had to stay in work for longer
than I told him. He became quite controlling and made me feel bad about not
checking in with him on a regular basis. It came to the point where we would be
fighting several times a week. Without realising, I was seeing friends less and
going out less while spending more and more time at home with him. He would sit
on the couch drinking and tell me how much he loved me and that
no-one would ever love me like he loved me. Then he started to comment on how I
would dress, that I put on weight, that I was letting myself go. He was
breaking me down bit by bit and I didn’t realise it.
Then one night when I was asked to work late, I called him and
asked him not to get mad but I had to work late. He was not happy and told me I
wasn’t paying him enough attention and put work before him. I told him I’d get
home as soon as I could. One of the girls at work bought some wine into the
office that evening and we sat there having a few glasses as we tried to make
our deadline. I didn’t mean to get drunk but I was quite tipsy leaving the
office.
When I got home he was very angry with me. He called me an
alcoholic and told me I didn’t love him. At this point I snapped and told him
to fuck off and turned to walk to our bedroom. Before I knew it I felt a thump
to the back of my head. He had thrown a cup at me which made me fall to
the ground. It cut me open and I was bleeding. I can still remember his face
and how he looked at me. He was truly sorry for what he done and came over and
hugged me. He started crying and asked me to forgive him. I told him OK and
asked him not to do it again.
A few weeks later, we we’re staying in drinking
and watching some Netflix, when I got a text from a friend who asked me
to come over. I asked him if he wanted to go. He said no, but
told me to go out and enjoy myself. This was the first time he had told me to
go out without him in a long time. I had such a great time: I danced, laughed,
drank and had fun. When I returned home I came back to a very different man.
Michael was not happy and I could see it in his face. He asked where I was, and
when I told him, he said he didn’t believe me. He asked if I was chatting to
anyone, if I kissed anyone. He took my phone and started checking my messages,
my phone log. When I demanded my phone back he snapped and threw it at me
hitting me in my chest.
When I asked him why he did that, he screamed at me, went to the
kitchen and grabbed a knife. He said he was going to stab himself if I didn’t
tell him the truth. I told him I was telling him the truth, but he shouted at
me. I asked him to put down the knife and he did. I told him to come over to me
and gave him a hug. At that moment my phone beeped. He pulled back, looked at
my phone then punched me in the face. I fell back, knocked my head off the wall
and passed out.
My next memory was waking up on the floor with sore ribs, a bruised
face and a broken nose. He had beaten me black and blue. At this stage I
had no idea if he was in the apartment or not. After shouting for him I could tell
he was not there, so I looked around for my phone so I could get help.
I was able to call an ambulance and soon after they arrived I was
asked if I could remember what had happened. I lied and said I didn’t. I felt
ashamed and wanted to protect him. They brought me to the hospital where I
was visited by the police and asked again what happened. At this point I
couldn’t contain my tears and broke down.
The police were very helpful and told me what my options were. With
the support of my friends and family I finally had the courage to do the right
thing. It took them two weeks to find him. Eventually he was charged and
sentenced to eight months in prison for what he did.
Looking back now I remember blaming myself for everything that
happened. I thought it was my fault that he did that to me. It took me a long
time to get over this, but now I can firmly see that I was not the problem in
our relationship. I did not deserve the emotional abuse. I did not deserve the
physical abuse. Michael was wrong, not me.
I’m always asked how I feel about him now. I tell everyone the
same answer. At one point he was the love of my life. Now I feel sorry for him.
He’s messed up and needs help. I’m a much stronger person now because of what I
went though. I hope someday I can forgive Michael but in the meantime I’m just
going to get on with my life and leave him in the past. I’m now happy, healthy
and enjoying life. Now that time has passed, I find myself wanting him, do you think I am crazy for feeling this way?
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