Blognonymous : He's Coming Back

There is no introduction I can write for this Blognonymous post as I'm not sure what to say.  The author is a personal friend of mine and I just want to scoop her up and protect her myself.  I'm just glad that Blognonymous is here for anyone when they need it.

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A blog is meant to be a place where you can post anything right?  Be open about what’s going on in your life.  Share.  I mean, after all, that’s the whole point of an online diary, no?  Well you know what?  That’s bullshit.  There are things I’d never be able to talk about on my blog, primarily because if my family ever knew about what I’d gone through I don’t know what they’d do.  And, if I’m honest, because I like to think I’m a pretty decent person, I just don’t want to hurt them.

So what do you do when you have managed to cope with the most horrific of relationships, you’ve done your best to move on, to make a family for you and your kids – a home again … and then you get the news that leaves you feeling physically sick and afraid for your life?

All sounds rather dramatic doesn’t it?  It is I suppose.  But I’ve normalised my life for a such a long time now as a coping mechanism, because that’s just what I do. 

I got the news this morning that my ex partner has just been given bail and, as soon as the money hits the Judge’s bank account, the money that his family so very ‘kindly’ put together for him, he’s a free man again until his trial. 

Why is he in prison?  For rape.  For kidnap.  For things he did to a woman that are so horrific I couldn’t begin to tell you here.  And while he was in prison, was he such a good inmate that the courts saw him as no real threat were he to be released?  No.  He attacked another woman whilst in there and got put in solitary for 23 hours a day.

I know this because he rang me to tell me his back hurt because the mattress was so crap.

My life has been a nightmare and I’ve managed to keep it all under wraps for fear of judgement, for fear of hurting people who love me … I just hate the thought of people worrying about me … for fear that if I said it out loud it would make it real.

I am in fear of my life.  I cannot reiterate that enough.  I am sat at work and petrified that when I get home he’ll have ignored his curfew and tag and be stood lurking outside my house.  Waiting for me.

He’ll say he just wants to see his son.  That he loves him.  And his son loves him so much that the mere mention of his father reduces him to tears because at his age, he believes every single word his dad says.  His dad could never have done anything bad.

I’ve been left with crippling debts, no money, a fracture from when he beat me up at Christmas which is still a little painful because going to hospital meant I’d have to explain why I was battered black and blue.   I’ve been left with a hurt boy.  A fear of commitment.  An inability to sleep properly.  A fear that if he ever came back he’d snatch my precious boy in his sleep and I’ll never see him again.

I’ve spent the last six months getting my life back on track.  Working hard.  Repeating the ‘Mummy will never leave you’ mantra to my poor, poor son.  Reassuring him every single day that ‘everything’s going to be alright.’

I thought I would die at Christmas.  He choked me so hard I passed out.  Then he’d start again.  He gave me a black eye that lasted for three weeks.  I couldn’t leave the house for all that time. 

He raped me on numerous occasions. 

And I never told a soul.

The funny thing is, some of you know may me as we all know how small the internet is and to look at me, you’d never know the shit I’m hiding from the world.  Even now, as I feel like I’m freefalling again like I did at Christmas, I’m working hard at work, sniffing away my tears as best as I can because God forbid anyone would find out.

The thing I dread most is pity.  I don’t want people to feel sorry for me.  To look at me and think “Poor woman, don’t know how she copes.”  I am life’s best coper see.  It’s what I do.

I realise I’m rambling.  I am counting down the minutes before I can get home and hug my boys and pray that my ex isn’t there waiting for me. 

I will call my local police when I get home to tell them my fears.  And if the courts are anything to go by, the police will laugh, ignore me and go about their day.  Because the police and courts aren’t affected by my ex are they?  It’s not their life, it’s mine.  Why should they care?

I don’t know what advice anyone can give me that would make any sense to me right now.  My contact from the police was absolutely convinced that he’d never, ever get bail so I haven’t even thought about the possibility that he would.  Until now. 

The churning feeling in my stomach that I used to live with is back with a vengeance and all I can see now when I close my eyes is his fist raining down on my face.  It took me months to pluck up the courage to kick him out. 

And now he’s coming back.

Thanks for taking the time to listen to me waffle on.  I know I’m not the only person who’s been in an abusive relationship but it’s not something we really talk about is it? 

I hold on tight to the fact that I WAS strong enough to end this relationship and that I am a STRONG STRONG PERSON.  This, I know for a fact.  As scared as I am, I have to repeat this to myself. 

I don’t know how to keep him away.  He’s allowed to come to my house as long as he’s back at his father’s house by 7pm. 

I want to run away.  To go somewhere so remote that he’ll never find us. 

I can only hope that when his case goes to trial, he gets put away for a long, long time and my children and I do our best to move on.  Again. 

The courts are fucking arseholes though and time will only tell what will happen next.