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Trauma
It'll Eat You Alive
It'll Eat You Alive
Oh, you think getting dumped is where this ended? No.
Luckily someone had left the gate open or I would have clawed my way over it. I ran to the complex's guest parking lot and emotionally imploded, screaming inside my car for an hour or more. I didn't recognize myself anymore.
In no condition to drive, I texted my abuser to please talk to me. He came down from his apartment and assured me that I was, "perfect," but explained that there was nothing I could do to salvage the relationship. I felt like I had been transported to the twilight zone. I agreed to join him for a final dinner and wept into my plate of Chinese food.
I grieved for about a week, messaging him that I didn't want to see anyone else. He advised me to, "get over it." So I obediently reopened my dating app and there he was. I asked what I had done so wrong to cause this. He responded that I did everything right and reiterated that I was, "perfect." It broke my brain. I couldn't understand and I blamed myself for ruining everything.
The following is by no means exhaustive summary of the trauma responses I exhibited during and after this painful and chaotic relationship. Many of them are symptoms of PTSD. Learning about and understanding these has helped me come to terms with what occurred as well as untangle my brain's confusing and frustrating coping mechanisms.
Trauma Bonding
The repeating cycles in my abusive relationship almost perfectly define a Trauma Bond.
As you probably have already read, this relationship followed a distinct series of events and destructive repeating patterns. All these were in rapid-fire succession, and yet I felt practically addicted to him and compelled to return to his side. I was driven to keep reviving the joy I had initially felt before the abuse began and my world utterly fell apart upon rejection.
Why are we so sure that women who are abused won't cling to, flatter, brag and lie about their partner? Why do we judge women who can't admit that they attached themselves to someone destructive when they seemed so perfect before? Why do we think it's suspicious when they only way they can think to fix the situation is to appease?
Imagine - every time I drove to his apartment, I passed the city police department. I was so close and yet so far.
Freeze and Appease
After, and I think probably even during the very first incident of abuse, I could practically feel my psyche shift. Where others might experience Fight or Flight, my adrenaline caused me to become nervous and clingy. I was suddenly excessively anxious to appease him and seek his approval.
Years later, I found a name for my response: Freeze and Appease
When I got up the courage to inform my abuser that his initial actions were not okay, he apologized insincerely and then blamed me for his shortcoming. I was relieved and accepted this breadcrumb gratefully, because I truly didn't feel able to leave the relationship at that point. I found myself investing large amounts of of my self-worth into attempts to please him. As is usual for me, I convinced myself that if I just worked hard enough, everything would be okay.
I became increasingly needy for his time and commitment. As he restricted time we spent together more and more, the feeling of failure turned into desperation.
Hypervigilance
I spent much of the relationship after the initial abuse riding a frantic sense of high alert. Imagine twelve shots of espresso. My body was exhausted but I couldn't stop my mind from racing. My muscles would tense while driving home after meeting him. I haven't tried stimulants other than coffee, but this natural reaction is a good enough reason not to. I constantly felt a pit in my stomach.
I was working extended holiday hours in a retail environment, the busiest time of the year that required 9 hours on my feet per day at least. After this, if he would grace me with an invitation, I would do my hair, apply my lipstick and perfume and rush to meet him. I felt an immense pressure to avoid showing fatigue to maintain his interest.
I do believe I mistook my high level of mental arousal for excitement, as my heart was often racing when meeting him was imminent. It did feel similar, aside from the sense of dread and foreboding that accompanied it. The consistent robbery from my bank of dignity made me desperate for a commitment that I was dubious I would ever receive.
Denial
It was so much easier to keep busy and blame myself for everything rather than admit the truth. I experienced (and still experience) intrusive thoughts and flashbacks about my traumas, which I effectively pushed away into the dusty, overflowing corner of my mind called Denial. I did everything to convince myself that if I had just said this or done that, or if he maybe didn't have such a sad childhood, things wouldn't have gone how they did. It gave me a sense of control.
Although I had been fairly dutiful about recording intimate encounters on a period tracker app, I was so shaken by the final incident of choking that I could not bring myself to acknowledge it in the same way. The entirety of January is void of entries.
Over time, I started presenting nuggets of my experiences to my friends. I wanted their validation whether something untoward might have happened and hoped they would disagree. Some of them responded with discomfort. Some were critical of me. Some asked if I wanted to go to the police, which horrified me. Reporting meant admitting that the behavior was truly that severe.
I believed I'd have to hate my abuser to admit the abuse. I didn't hate him and I still don't. I used things like being busy with work and self-blame as excuses to not address the issue.
Avoidance
This one hurts the most.
Over three years later, I can't drive into the city where he lived, enjoy the beauty of the San Mateo bridge at night or drive past restaurants on El Camino without experiencing a sense of panic. Sometimes even looking at a calzone or passing through Little Italy makes me feel sick. Papa Johns is barely falling off my blacklist, currently. The resulting panic attacks and dread can be overwhelming.
I feel as if someone ransacked my home.
I love my state and the local sights in my neighboring cities and I deeply resent how often I have felt the need to avoid them for fear of being reminded of how vulnerable I was.
I also distanced myself from friends. I was embarrassed and ashamed of everything that had happened, particularly if they had suspected something untoward was going on.
Grief and Guilt
This didn't kick in completely until the night the relationship ended.
I screamed in my car. Screamed. For over an hour! My grief was so profound, the volume was enough to startle passersby. I felt like with his rejection, I had lost everything and myself, and it was all my fault. I didn't recognize myself anymore and I was sick with guilt that I sacrificed so much of myself for nothing but pure harm.
A year after, I still felt the need to apologize to my abuser for some imagined misdeed. And I did.
Three years after, I was asking my therapist what I could have done to prevent his actions.
But I also felt guilt and grief for myself. I understand now that I just wanted to be loved and didn't understand why I was being punished for it. I often wish I could go back and be my own guardian, but you can't change the past.
Abusive people are one hell of a drug.
Alcohol Use
This started after an excessively forceful incident that left me battered enough to have difficultly walking. I felt like I had turned into a plaything of no real value. I thought drinking might alleviate my frustration, but I fell into even more depression when it didn't help at all.
Luckily this issue did not stick after all was said and done.
Loss of Personal Identity
After the abuse began, practically everything I did and thought was in juxtaposition with him. I did not recognize myself or how I was acting. I never thought I could be involved in such a relationship or that I would opt for survival by becoming submissive and pleasing - I had always thought of myself as a fighter before then.
Sometimes I still find my correlation with what I believe I deserve and what I actually deserve quite strained, even if it's earned and paid for responsibly. Fresh, spacious apartments with beautiful views, a great job, a sports car, new clothes - intrusive thoughts say that because my abuser had these things, and because I believed he was somehow better than me, that I could never truly deserve to have anything of the same quality myself. Then I become angry and want to obtain those things out of spite.
Intellectually, I know these thoughts are very skewed. I don't even want a sports car. I have no need for a big apartment right now and it would be a foolish investment. I am still learning to know myself again.
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