Your hatred is not stronger than my freedom

By GeorgieWilliam

I was only I my early 20’s. He was near on 30. I was a regular at the bar and so was he. He would later confess he watched me walk into the bar and “it was love at first sight’. Think that was translated into I saw a perfect victim. A pretty girl, who clearly had self esteem issues, perfect to take advantage of.

He completely swept me off my feet. He bought me flowers, every pay day, confessed his undying love for me in the first few weeks. We were engaged in 3 months.

It placed my high up on a pedestal, high enough that when he kicked me off no method could protect me from some serious damage.

There was the initial drunken, ‘fuck you’, ‘go on, go to the pub, you slut’ ‘I can see you want to fuck ......’ (whoever we were with) He begged for forgiveness and said his x had royally screwed him over by sleeping with everyone. I felt sad that this guy I loved had been so wronged.

Besides the drunken verbal assaults it was a gradual and sneak attacks, used to destroy me self esteem and self worth. He began with small things, like turning of the DVD player during a film we were watching to take it to his ex-girlfriend, who rang because her DVD broke.

We moved from the city we lived in to a small coastal tourist town and we worked together. He had a car, I didn’t have a car or licence. He’d deliberately exclude me from things then act like I was pathetic for wondering why.

I became pregnant to him. I terminated. Reflecting on the night it happened I think he did it intentionally. Knowing I wouldn’t keep it but knowing that choice would wreak havoc on my emotions. I knew it wasn’t right. I knew he wasn’t right but even back then I felt tied to him.

He would lie to me and then tell other people the truth in front of me. When I asked him about it he would go into a rage and tell me it was none of my business and that he had to lie because I was a psycho, jealous, possessive, immature fuckwit. I started to think I was possessive (for the first time in my life).

He would tell me i was a fat cunt. I was fucking useless. I made him sick. Sometimes it was just the look he gave me. I can’t even explain it by it was a look like I was worth less than the dirt beneath his feet.

The first time he hit me, we’d attended his x’s birthday party. I had spent the night talking with his x and her friend. When we got in the car to leave he looked furious. We got in the car, he told me “you’re a fucking slut, you make me sick’ He drove me around in his car for, I don’t know how long and punched me, repeatedly in the side of the head. When he’d had enough of that he’d grab fist fulls of hair and slam my face into the steering wheel. He repeatedly told me he was only driving so he could find a mine shaft to kill me and throw my body into so no one would ever find me.

As time went on the verbal and emotional abuse got so much worse. He would hear my cry on the phone to my sister or mum and when I got off he’d tell me that I was a pathetic cunt. ‘Do you really think anyone rings to hear you fucking cry?’ ‘You’re fucking ridiculous. I guarantee they wish they’d never rung you now. You make everyone miserable.’

We worked together so when I was in his way he’d sneer at me and raise his fist. I felt as weak as a mouse. I felt like I must like it if I stay. He had isolated me from friends and family. I was too embarrassed to see them, he made them all uncomfortable.

This is a bit embarrassing but I wanted to have sex with him and he’d shun me and say I don’t feel like it, then masturbate next to me in bed. Like I was to gross to sleep with.

I tried to kill myself. That was the last straw. I saw a Dr, who was awful and I went on anti depressants. For 5 months. Got my head straighter and I left.

I didn’t think I could leave him. I thought I deserved it. I needed him. No-one else would ever love me. I was wrong. I love me. I Healed me and I am here. My scars show my strength.