Domestic Violence Awareness Month
*Trigger warning. The following content discusses domestic abuse (physical, emotional, mental, sexual), self harm and eating disorders. If that content will trigger you, please do not read on*
I've never had a partner hit me. I've never had a partner kick me. I never had a partner leave me with a black eye, or a bruised face that I needed to cover up with makeup in a desperate attempt to look 'normal'.
What I have had has been far more subtle. Pushed in the stomach so hard I was sick, pinned to the bathroom wall by my throat, arms twisted up behind my back, 'restrained' on the floor, bruises on parts of my body that no one would see. Not once but twice, there ended up being a hole in the wall where my partner tried to scare me as though he was going to punch me, before veering off at the last second. I've had items of mine broken, a door slammed into my face, doors literally burst through because I'd locked myself away on the other side, resulting in the door being totally destroyed. Let's not even begin to speak about the emotional and psychological torment I endured either, plus other forms of abuse I really can't bring myself to address just yet. I suffered at the hands of someone I loved blindly for far too long, and for so long I believed that that was what love was. It didn't matter about this guys behaviour, because he loved me, right? For every bad month there was one good day that seemed to cancel it all out, make it all okay. This was how mature, serious relationships worked, right? There were bad times and you worked through them, but you stuck around for the good days because that was why you loved them and that made it all worth it. Right?
Wrong.
Wrong, wrong, wrong.
Being broken
Being in an abusive relationship is something I very rarely talk about. In fact, only four people in this entire world know the full extent of it. My parents know very, very brief details. It's just not something I felt I could share. In fact, I'm still not fully comfortable sharing it now- but it's definitely an important topic that needs discussing. Now that October is here, it's Domestic Violence Awareness Month, and so now seemed a good a time as ever to discuss something that has played a huge part in my life that really isn't discussed a lot. I've wanted to speak up for so long...
...But it feels almost embarrassing, you know? To sit there, with me being the tough, sassy, outgoing individual that I am, and have to confess to people that once upon a time, I let somebody break me. I let them grind me right down until I firmly believed I was nothing. I developed body dysmorphia and odd eating habits, I followed 'rules' to please my partner, I cut all my friends off, I even self harmed at one incredibly low point, I did as I was told. I let him break me.
And while obviously I haven't stayed broken, the scars of what I endured have stuck with me forever. My past doesn't define me, of course it doesn't, but it's always going to be a part of who I am. It plays a massive role in creating the person I am today, impacting upon my relationships with everyone, even if I don't want it to. It just happens.
My support system
I think having a good support system is absolutely crucial, to all aspects of life really, but particularly if you're going through something like domestic violence. Even if the people you tell can't help, just being able to offload so you aren't carrying the burden alone can make you feel so much better. I tried to tell people before it got too bad, once or twice. Funnily enough, none of them believed me- needless to say, none of them are in my life now.
I distinctly remember showing a friend bruises on my thighs and him saying "You could have done those yourself, how do I know if it was him?", while another friend said "What do you want me to do about it?". Those people? They weren't my friends.
I'm fortunate enough that now I have the right people around me who dragged me through it. They didn't at the time, because I didn't tell them. But when they did know, they proved themselves to be the truest of friends.
Friends who cried because they had no idea what I'd gone through until I confessed. Friends who held me while I cried for hours on end because I thought I'd never be fixed. Friends who have listened to me time and time and time again, always giving me advice and reassurance that, while it might hurt now, in the end it will be okay. Friends who tolerate the fact that sometimes, I need a shot or five of vodka to numb my brain, because while alcohol certainly doesn't solve problems, it sure as hell makes them feel better. Friends who have supported my good decisions and drawn me away from my bad ones. Friends who have believed that I would get better. And I did.
Surviving
I'm one of the lucky ones, because for me, it has turned out okay. I managed to leave the relationship, I've managed to process what I've been through, work through it (for the most part) and fix myself. I was left feeling destroyed, unwanted and unlovable and now feel quite the opposite.
But that isn't the case for everyone.
October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month, and it's important that this is something we all observe, if even for a day. So often cases of domestic violence go unnoticed. People learn how to hide any physical injuries, abusers learn how to be secret about their violence- sometimes, the abuse can go on for years and years. Sometimes, it can end in death. It's absolutely not acceptable and it needs to stop.
It isn't just women who suffer, either. Domestic violence doesn't discriminate. A huge number of men also suffer in domestic violence cases, but so often they're afraid to speak out for fear of looking weak, or appearing to be less of a man. This simply isn't the case- domestic violence can happen to anyone- even children.
What now?
Well...what now?
We need to talk about it more, that's for sure. I know growing up, I had no clue about domestic violence until I began reading about it quite frequently in Jacqueline Wilson books, and then in movies and TV shows like Hollyoaks as I got a bit older. It's not something that was discussed at home, or at school. It's not something anyone I knew openly spoke about- but I guess, why would we? We had no reason to.
Often, the domestic violence in pop culture is glamorized, spreading the message that this is love, that this behaviour is normal. We see people forgiving their abusers, being too afraid to speak up, and while this is definitely an accurate representation of real life situations, it also enforces the idea that that's all someone being abused can do- forgive and forget in silence.
Domestic violence can only thrive in silence. The more of a conversation there is about the topic, the more we will be able to pick up the signs of it, help those suffering through it, try and prevent it from happening at all. Everybody deserves to feel safe in their own home, man or woman, adult or child. It's taken me years before I've been able to say anything beyond my little safety net of trusted friends, and obviously if you aren't in a safe situation to speak about it, or don't feel comfortable doing so, then don't. But just know that you don't have to suffer in silence. There is always someone ready to help you, be that a friend, a colleague or a stranger at the end of a phone. You really aren't alone.
For so long I felt like I was alone. I let people disbelieve me, make me doubt myself. I was walked all over, tormented for far too long. Now I'm free, and I'm happy. I'm okay. Don't you think every man and woman in this world deserves the same?
Love from,
Florence Grace
I've never had a partner hit me. I've never had a partner kick me. I never had a partner leave me with a black eye, or a bruised face that I needed to cover up with makeup in a desperate attempt to look 'normal'.
What I have had has been far more subtle. Pushed in the stomach so hard I was sick, pinned to the bathroom wall by my throat, arms twisted up behind my back, 'restrained' on the floor, bruises on parts of my body that no one would see. Not once but twice, there ended up being a hole in the wall where my partner tried to scare me as though he was going to punch me, before veering off at the last second. I've had items of mine broken, a door slammed into my face, doors literally burst through because I'd locked myself away on the other side, resulting in the door being totally destroyed. Let's not even begin to speak about the emotional and psychological torment I endured either, plus other forms of abuse I really can't bring myself to address just yet. I suffered at the hands of someone I loved blindly for far too long, and for so long I believed that that was what love was. It didn't matter about this guys behaviour, because he loved me, right? For every bad month there was one good day that seemed to cancel it all out, make it all okay. This was how mature, serious relationships worked, right? There were bad times and you worked through them, but you stuck around for the good days because that was why you loved them and that made it all worth it. Right?
Wrong.
Wrong, wrong, wrong.
Being broken
Being in an abusive relationship is something I very rarely talk about. In fact, only four people in this entire world know the full extent of it. My parents know very, very brief details. It's just not something I felt I could share. In fact, I'm still not fully comfortable sharing it now- but it's definitely an important topic that needs discussing. Now that October is here, it's Domestic Violence Awareness Month, and so now seemed a good a time as ever to discuss something that has played a huge part in my life that really isn't discussed a lot. I've wanted to speak up for so long...
...But it feels almost embarrassing, you know? To sit there, with me being the tough, sassy, outgoing individual that I am, and have to confess to people that once upon a time, I let somebody break me. I let them grind me right down until I firmly believed I was nothing. I developed body dysmorphia and odd eating habits, I followed 'rules' to please my partner, I cut all my friends off, I even self harmed at one incredibly low point, I did as I was told. I let him break me.
And while obviously I haven't stayed broken, the scars of what I endured have stuck with me forever. My past doesn't define me, of course it doesn't, but it's always going to be a part of who I am. It plays a massive role in creating the person I am today, impacting upon my relationships with everyone, even if I don't want it to. It just happens.
My support system
I think having a good support system is absolutely crucial, to all aspects of life really, but particularly if you're going through something like domestic violence. Even if the people you tell can't help, just being able to offload so you aren't carrying the burden alone can make you feel so much better. I tried to tell people before it got too bad, once or twice. Funnily enough, none of them believed me- needless to say, none of them are in my life now.
I distinctly remember showing a friend bruises on my thighs and him saying "You could have done those yourself, how do I know if it was him?", while another friend said "What do you want me to do about it?". Those people? They weren't my friends.
I'm fortunate enough that now I have the right people around me who dragged me through it. They didn't at the time, because I didn't tell them. But when they did know, they proved themselves to be the truest of friends.
Friends who cried because they had no idea what I'd gone through until I confessed. Friends who held me while I cried for hours on end because I thought I'd never be fixed. Friends who have listened to me time and time and time again, always giving me advice and reassurance that, while it might hurt now, in the end it will be okay. Friends who tolerate the fact that sometimes, I need a shot or five of vodka to numb my brain, because while alcohol certainly doesn't solve problems, it sure as hell makes them feel better. Friends who have supported my good decisions and drawn me away from my bad ones. Friends who have believed that I would get better. And I did.
Surviving
I'm one of the lucky ones, because for me, it has turned out okay. I managed to leave the relationship, I've managed to process what I've been through, work through it (for the most part) and fix myself. I was left feeling destroyed, unwanted and unlovable and now feel quite the opposite.
But that isn't the case for everyone.
October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month, and it's important that this is something we all observe, if even for a day. So often cases of domestic violence go unnoticed. People learn how to hide any physical injuries, abusers learn how to be secret about their violence- sometimes, the abuse can go on for years and years. Sometimes, it can end in death. It's absolutely not acceptable and it needs to stop.
It isn't just women who suffer, either. Domestic violence doesn't discriminate. A huge number of men also suffer in domestic violence cases, but so often they're afraid to speak out for fear of looking weak, or appearing to be less of a man. This simply isn't the case- domestic violence can happen to anyone- even children.
What now?
Well...what now?
We need to talk about it more, that's for sure. I know growing up, I had no clue about domestic violence until I began reading about it quite frequently in Jacqueline Wilson books, and then in movies and TV shows like Hollyoaks as I got a bit older. It's not something that was discussed at home, or at school. It's not something anyone I knew openly spoke about- but I guess, why would we? We had no reason to.
Often, the domestic violence in pop culture is glamorized, spreading the message that this is love, that this behaviour is normal. We see people forgiving their abusers, being too afraid to speak up, and while this is definitely an accurate representation of real life situations, it also enforces the idea that that's all someone being abused can do- forgive and forget in silence.
Domestic violence can only thrive in silence. The more of a conversation there is about the topic, the more we will be able to pick up the signs of it, help those suffering through it, try and prevent it from happening at all. Everybody deserves to feel safe in their own home, man or woman, adult or child. It's taken me years before I've been able to say anything beyond my little safety net of trusted friends, and obviously if you aren't in a safe situation to speak about it, or don't feel comfortable doing so, then don't. But just know that you don't have to suffer in silence. There is always someone ready to help you, be that a friend, a colleague or a stranger at the end of a phone. You really aren't alone.
For so long I felt like I was alone. I let people disbelieve me, make me doubt myself. I was walked all over, tormented for far too long. Now I'm free, and I'm happy. I'm okay. Don't you think every man and woman in this world deserves the same?
Love from,
Florence Grace
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