How an abusive relationship made me feel like a cardboard cutout

Monday 26 October 2020

You think you’d spot the signs of domestic abuse? You think you know what abuse would look like, especially if you were right in the thick of it yourself?

I thought I would, but I didn’t. At no time was I physically threatened but having extricated myself from a toxic relationship, it is only now that I can see it for what it was: emotional abuse.

I don't know if it is always like this but, for me, it was difficult to define, to put my finger on. It creeps up around you, and you are manipulated and controlled for so long that you don’t realise how much you have lost your own true self. 

Over our long marriage, my husband lied and cheated. He had multiple affairs, some of them lasted years. In the end, I learned that he was even cheating on his mistress. Although I had suspicions here and there he always had an answer. It was always ‘my’ issue with trust. I was the one who was paranoid. ‘If you say it enough, you will make it happen.’ 

Figuratively speaking, I lost my voice. I lost the ability to challenge anything he said. He could argue black was white. I started doubting my own version of reality. He filled my head with excuses, distortions and distractions and kept me weighed down with self-doubt and self-blame. 

Nothing was ever his fault. And yet I was bending over backwards to do the right thing. He had double standards and would criticise my children for things he himself did. I always felt like I was living with two different people.

If there was an argument, he would give me the silent treatment.  When there was conflict I would often end up wondering ‘how did that start exactly?’ Not only did it always feel like my fault, it was always up to me to go to him to smooth things over. And then he would book a holiday or buy me expensive jewellery as if to demonstrate his commitment, a way of distracting and looking ahead.

Yet the ‘now’ was agony to me. Often it was difficult to put my finger on exactly what was wrong. Certainly, friends and family would never guess how miserable I felt. 

He made sure to have a good public image, to impress with his generosity, sense of humour and ‘good guy’ image. 

As hard as I tried, I could not find intimacy in our marriage. There was no emotional depth to it. We had a physical relationship but it left me feeling like I was a piece of cardboard. It’s the only way I can describe it.

At one point, early in our relationship, I cried over something, but he dismissed it as if to say ‘all women can just turn on the taps’, as if I were acting. I was wary of crying in front of him, for he offered no solace, whatever it was over.

Gaslighting, enabling, co-dependency, boundaries… all of these words that I have now learned as I rebuild my life on my own. The greatest thing I have now? Peace of mind.

Emotional damage is not insignificant. People can’t see it but it is there on a daily basis. Not a day goes by when I don’t think about those years. I can only hope that, just like bereavement, it gets better with time.

I am sure that my ex-husband would not consider himself to be ‘abusive’. He finds something wrong with everyone else. ‘Woe is me…,’ ‘It’s so unfair…’ I have read that it is typical of the abuser, ‘seeing his dirty face and washing the mirror’.

I look back and can now see that I lost sight of ‘me’. In the throes of her very public divorce, Princess Diana once described feeling like her light had gone out. That was how I felt for years.

Two years on from finally getting out of the relationship, my light shines brighter each day.

This article was supplied by Jersey Action Against Rape, and first appeared in October's edition of Connect magazine. Read it in full here.