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Rebecca's Story

 

We are finally divorced now. We separated three years ago in July, I initiated it, and we had been together over ten years. My son’s almost a teen and I have a younger son too who is still at primary school.

I am in my mid-forties, I grew up in a small town in Southern Scotland, went to university in the central belt, came back, and I think I probably had a bit of an unhealthy attachment style to men—full on, move fast kind of thing. I am a people pleaser, always want to fix people, huge empath. So, I fell hard for the wrong guys and was treated badly.

 

When I met my ex, I was not in a great place—previous partner was mentally and physically abusive. At first, it was all “wow,” he made me feel special, I was impressed by 29-year-old me thinking it was amazing. He was captain of the rugby team, tall, fit, professional kind of arrogant, but in a way that made me feel chosen.

We got together, bought a house, and eventually had a child after some trouble getting pregnant. But right around pregnancy and after my son was born, I started noticing red flags—like he just did not want to be near me.

My ex was not supportive during my pregnancy. He was dismissive of my symptoms and struggles, and he certainly did not appear excited. I did all the prep like painting the nursery, shopping for baby items etc.  He was not excited to choose a name or feel my stomach and talk about the development of the baby.

Before I gave birth he had taken up intense sport and was competing in triathlons. He would go out at least twice a week and at weekends for most of the evening and day. This did not change was the baby was born.

I tried to make him see that he maybe needed to re-think priorities and that he was starting to use his new hobby as a crutch to avoid life and supporting me as his partner.  I was working in early years education and continued to work full time right up until the baby was born.

He told me I was being selfish by wanting him to give up his sporting passions. It had become an addiction to him.

Once the baby was born, feeling quite overwhelmed and hormonal, my midwife had suggested some mild medication for a temporary period.

My ex responded by saying “why are you giving in to medication? Why don’t you exercise like me to regulate it?”

I struggled to breastfeed due to a complication with my son’s tongue.  He also suffered from severe reflux and colic, and it was a difficult period.   My best friend was due to get married in a month, and I was bridesmaid.

I was very anxious about the struggles I was having so I spoke to my mum. I was so stressed and felt like a failure.

My mum rationalised everything and suggested I get bottles to try.

I pumped some milk to attend the hen night for a couple of hours, and all seemed to go ok.

My ex aggressively accused me of ‘succumbing’ to the bottle because I was being selfish and putting myself before the need of my baby.

I snapped in a hormonal rage and slapped him across the face for suggesting such an awful thing. I walked out the house. It was November and torrential rain.

I walked the streets for two hours, crying uncontrollably, still leaking milk as a new mother and not once did he come to look for me or check if I was ok. Let alone apologise.

I remember thinking that a pattern of lack of empathy and gaslighting was emerging. “You are over-dramatic. You always over-react to things!” he would repeat to me.

If I ever got emotional or upset, he would say things like “get away from me, I don’t want to see you or speak to you when you’re like this.”  I would often retreat to the cold empty garage for a good cry, feeling confused and unloved.

“I don’t want the kids seeing you in this state, it’s not healthy to be emotional….”

I began to normalise it all in my head. I accepted that I was the problem.

For years he did not want to be intimate with me at all. When I tried to spice things up or suggest marriage counselling, he would always respond with “That’s not my thing. I don’t see a problem in this relationship; you’re always looking for issues that aren’t there.”

As he was due home every day, I was on eggshells and felt the rising anxiety in my gut. I knew the volatile, passive-aggressive behaviour would surface if all was not right and in its place.

He would always come home, embrace and welcome the kids, completely disregarding me, like I just was not there. I was just in the background, facilitating his life. He would sometimes make half an effort and do it so badly, that he knew I would jump in and take over. 

When we had met, I was the main breadwinner, the one who had the career moving in the right direction and he had begun to make me feel worthless.  I actively encouraged him to develop his career pathway and move up the ranks to help us better our family situation and so I could continue to work part time to support our family dynamic. 

He would always be the one to swoop in at the last minute and be the “fun” parent, after I had organised everything. I was always in the background keeping everything running.

Money was a huge issue with us. The control was stifling!

One particular year, we were travelling to Devon for a holiday with friends. I had booked a night stay-over halfway to break up the journey. When we struggled to find the hotel, I started to panic. I knew what was coming. A tremendous wave of panic and anxiety washed over me. He was enraged and blamed me.

When we arrived, the receptionist pointed out that, because we had our dog with us, there would be a surcharge of £20. This prompted a very public outrage. He made a big scene, belittling me in front of staff for failing to fit this into our holiday budget.

To keep the peace and try to diffuse the situation, I suggested he take the boys swimming while I walked the dog. As I was walking, I bumped into another couple who were hotel guests and we got talking and bonded over our beautiful dog.  They suggested we grab a quick glass of wine and have a natter. I thought “why the heck not. I am on holiday.”

My ex emerged, looking angry, “Oh, treating yourself, are you? How much did that cost?”

The rest of the holiday panned out much the same. One thing after another. Goading and goading until I snapped. He was blocking the door, so I pushed him out of the way and stabbed him with the manicure scissors I had been holding to get by. He responded with a bitter shrill “This is all your doing; it’s all your fault.”  Look what you have done to me this is physical abuse.

At home, he would check the banking app whilst I was food shopping, then confront me at the door, dissecting the bill, item by item, questioning my reasons behind every purchase and asking to see receipts.

“You can never do the shopping again; you cannot be trusted. I will plan the meals, I will write the shopping list, and you will now get an allowance each week.”

If I wanted anything that took me out of my allowance, I had to go and ask him, and he would almost always say no. So, I just started to go without even the basic of things resorting to dying and cutting my own hair, exercising early in the morning or late at night to get away from him and so not to be away whilst the kids needed me.  A pattern of stonewalling, withdrawal of intimacy and care and disintegration of our relationship ensued however again he made me feel like I was in the wrong and could do ‘nothing right’. 

Fast forward four years after his big brother my youngest was born and the same patterns emerged, He had similar problems with feeding, and my ex was even less supportive this time calling me ‘paranoid’ even when it emerged the same health issues were present. 

I suffered terribly post-partum with endometriosis and ended up a couple of years later having a hysterectomy.  I remember my time ‘post op’ being left for long periods alone and when I asked him for support/food/drink/company feeling like I was a complete inconvenience to him.  The mother of his two children….

Eventually after many years of this cycle, I had been driven into the caring arms of someone else. Not looking for it or expecting it. I decided to tell him that I had had enough.

I began spending time alone with the boys and really enjoying the quality time and the freedom I felt.

When I said it was over, that is the only time I had seen him, what I think was cry, but forced. When I think back now it was more panic than sadness.

When he knew for certain that I had met someone else, that is when HE suggested we work on the relationship. But it was just too late.

His survival tactic was then to ramp up the toxic behaviour. Sharing the house was unbearable!

He told me that he planned to buy the house from me and the boys would not want to be with me because he would have the family home.

I was panic-stricken. Thankfully, after seeking advice from a solicitor, they clarified that his claim was false.

I met with women’s aid who made me see that what he was doing was wrong. He began using the kids as pawns. Turning up when I had access, making them feel uneasy. Verbally attacking my dad when the children were in his care. 

 

I moved into the women’s refuge which allowed me some time and space to think things through, and I realised the enormity of what had been happening to me and how I had almost lost myself completely.  He refused to move out of the family home and made selling the house a nightmare, sabotaging viewings and on one occasion even breaking down one of the doors after he had been out on a bender whilst the children were in my care. 

I lost my mother 5 months after I separated from my ex. We lost another two close family members the same year and my boys have been through the mill emotionally.  Thankfully, my mum got to see me free from the life I had before she died. But it made the uphill struggle of recovery even harder losing her.

To this day, my ex is a ‘pillar of the community’ living it large and proud to all around him, but still so hurtful and toxic towards me in private. He continues to use the children as leverage, and I am still experiencing what I would consider to be post separation abuse from both himself and his new partner. 

 

I live my life in a very humble and quiet way, protecting both my peace and that of my children.  Although it is tough being separated from my children 50% of the time and only spending every second weekend with them, I am at peace with the situation and am confident I am doing the best for my children with the tools and resources I have. 

I am regularly subjected to my parenting time being interrupted by a constant stream of correspondence from my ex and his partner which my children feel intimidated and unhappy by and I feel powerless to stop.  Over the years the police and judicial system were less then helpful and the attitude of some of the especially male officers was unsupportive and belittling of my situation. 

I almost wished at time that he had laid hands on me as if there were physical scars it would be easier to prove…!

 

I hope my story can help and inspire others to get out and get the help they need to move forward.  There is life beyond abuse.