And then.....I left.

 Canada –The end, the night I left. 

It was the Labor Day weekend in September. We had planned to spend the weekend together, but then he got called into work. So I made arrangements to see my boyfriend. I was going to see him on Saturday, stay over and come home Sunday. We would then spend Sunday and Monday together. The Friday night, he begged me to change my plans and not go. I had already said that I would never cancel last minute, and if he wanted me to change my plans, then a few days' notice was needed. It was a habit of his to demand that I cancel at the last minute, sometimes as I walked out the door, didn’t matter who I was seeing. I put my foot down and said no. He yelled, made comments like “now I know where your priorities are, who you value more” my reply was simple “yes, me!” and he cried lots, all tricks I had begun to wise up to. I still said no. 

Saturday morning I left to go see my boyfriend. I texted him when I got there so he knew I was safe and got a lovely text back saying have fun. The weekend was amazing. When I left Sunday, I had texted to say I was stopping at my other friend as I had something for her, this was ok and allowed. I finally got home about eleven at night, I had stayed longer than planned with my friends as we got chatting. She texted to say it was her fault and I was on the way home. When I got in, he was in bed. I tried to be quiet, but he turned the light on and laid into me, yelling and screaming about how dare I be out so long, what right did I have to ignore him, and other comments. 

I broke. I sat on the bed and told him I was done and I was leaving. As I packed up some things, he kept yelling, how can it be over? I didn’t say it could be over! Fine, pack and leave whore. What more can I do to keep you here when you don’t want to be? 

His words washed over me as I packed and left. I went back to my friend's house while I tried to reach my parents. I was going to move back in with them. I told my friend what had happened, but she already knew as he was harassing her by text as I was leaving. The texts to her were not nice and certainly not friendly. I had also texted my boyfriend to say I had finally left him. He wanted to ensure I was ok and offered me a place to stay. I said no, but I would see him the next day if that was ok. 

I finally ended up at my parents' house by one in the morning. We talked for a bit and I realized that I was not upset or devastated. I wasn’t angry or hurt. I was happy. I felt a weight lift off my shoulders, and I slept so well that night, better than I had for months. I went and spent Monday with my boyfriend and his wife, we had a fantastic day. It was happy and filled with love. I took a few days off work to try and figure out what I needed to do. There was a lot to consider, but I knew I was not and could not go back to him, not under any circumstances. I did go back to the house on Tuesday to get the dog and more clothes and personal items. I asked him not to be there, but he was. He did stay out of my way as my sister was with me. But I knew he wanted to talk and try to get me back again. It was a few days later that the texts started. “we need to talk, even if this really is the end, we should talk” “I'm trying to give you space, but this is ridiculous” “come home, this is where you should be, not anywhere else” etc. Etc. I wouldn't let him get to me, I was civil in my replies, and asked him to stop. Then I just started to ignore them. 

#mentalhealth #surviour #silentkiller #victimtosurviour #lifegoeson #mentalhealthiseverything

The downward spiral, leading to the ending.

 Canada –Nearing the end The next 12 months

He was struggling with work. He would get up every day and go in, being the manager, his authority issues subsided a little. He still had the area manager to report to, but it’s a small store in a small city, so he was left alone a lot. However, the company requires that its management staff attend regular meetings. Sometimes they were only a day, sometimes they were three days. He never attended. His anxiety of long drives and his depression became his shield. He would take days off to be “sick” to avoid going. 

These were the days he would go out of his way to put me down and make me feel less than worthless. I would make dinner and be told that he hated it before even trying it, or I would get asked “how long have we been together? And you still don’t know I hate this? Are you fucking stupid?” and it could be something as simple as spaghetti on toast (Which he would always eat at his mother's) or he would say something and if I didn’t hear him, he would shout comments like “you deaf cow, fucking listen to me” or “why don’t you pay attention when I’m talking to you?” and  “If you think you have a hearing problem, deal with it yourself, do not make me repeat myself over and over” Thing is, a lot of the time I couldn’t hear him because his back was to me as he is laying on the floor playing video games, or playing music really loudly and he would mutter or mumble. Almost felt like it was deliberate just so he could yell at me. I would say something; tell him that if he turned down the music, or turned to face me, then there would be no problem. However, that would lead to a big fight and it ended with me feeling even worse and that he was right when he said “it’s your fault I’m shouting and getting upset with you” of course it was. Everything was my fault.

At other times, I would get snide comments, something about the way I looked, or the way I did something. We could be having a conversation about anything at all, and I would be accused of starting a fight and arguing with him when we were agreeing on the same subject. The comment “one of these days you will listen to me and I will be so fucking surprised” was said. There would be bile in the words and a look of disgust all over his face. What had I done? I was agreeing with him, and it turned into a fight and then I was the most disgusting, disappointing creature on the face of the planet in his eyes. And these things happened daily. Eventually, work didn’t need to be a reason to put me down, just breathing and being in the same room as him was enough of a reason. 

There was also no love in the house either. He would get so excited to see his girlfriends that he couldn’t wait to get out of the house. I would get a kiss in the beginning, but that was it. Yes, we had to work out some bugs in the Poly department, how often should we stay in contact with each other, house rules, etc. but that was never the issue. 

When we were both home at the same time, which was usually during the week, I would have to ask him to cuddle me in bed. I would have to initiate a kiss or anything else. He would lay there, huffing because he had to put his iPad down, and his arms would lay by his side. I would curl into him and get nothing. We did occasionally have some moments, but it was more about him getting me to give him release than anything else between us. I stopped getting that release from him altogether. Then the comments started in regards to that as well. He walked into the bedroom once to find me pleasuring myself. He simply looked at me and said “when you’re done, make me a sandwich” and closed the door. Other times I would invite him to join in and I was told “I really don’t want to. Just go do it yourself” I found I was apologizing for taking some me time. Slowly I stopped doing that as well. 

If I tried to talk to him about sex and if we could or not, he would just blame his medication. He would say that it was preventing him from being able to. And then twenty minutes later I had aroused him and made him finish using my hand. That seemed to be all that he wanted. The idea of having sex was me seemed to disgust him. 

Slowly we stopped talking to each other. I would fall asleep on the sofa or be playing games on my phone. He would be on the computer or watching TV and we didn’t speak. If we did, it was small talk. Anything to avoid a fight. I would still go to see my boyfriend at the weekends, it was the only time I could feel loved and wanted. And safe.  I dreaded the drive home. When I got home I would be greeted with more shouting and put-downs, about how I was never there to look after him, how I was selfish to want free time and time to myself. How he had to order pizza cause there was no dinner cooked for him. The best one once was “My date and I had a great time, but then I came home and you were not there so I could tell you how much better than you they are”

One day I snapped. This was in April. He was shouting at me about the same old things and I lost it. I was tired of being put down, made to feel like I was less than the crap on the bottom of his shoe. I shouted back. I told him everything and made a point of stating that these are all things I have said to him before, but he hadn’t listened. I told him how he made me feel, how unhappy I was, how pathetic I felt. I remember he laughed at me at one point and told me I was stupid and that it was all in my head, that I was imagining it all. I collected the dog, and overnight bag and I left. I was done. I couldn’t and wouldn’t take it anymore. I drove to my mother’s house and spent the weekend there. By the end of the weekend, and texts from him, I went back to talk. He said all the right things, apologized, talked about having kids, and following our dreams. So I stayed. The first week was great. Things seemed to improve. There was a genuine effort being made, more by him, but that was what I needed. We still didn’t have sex, but I wanted to work on everything else first. By the second week, things were going back to normal. The silence and the lack of affection, the comments, and the unwillingness to help in the house. This has been another factor, I was happy to be the housewife, but as I worked too I wanted some help. He would complain and huff if I asked him to help. And then he would yell at me saying he would do things in his own time, not mine. Months could go by and he still hadn’t done what I had asked. But then if I go ahead and do it a few days later, I would be yelled at for doing it. I’m sorry if the garbage needed to go out for collection and couldn’t wait any longer……….

It was about two months later another fight took place. All the same issues and all the same concerns and I left again.  I was away for a bit longer this time. But again, I went back, having been talked into it, with the same promises. Only this time there were comments like “I never thought I would get married, it would have to take someone really special, and that was you.” He was very good at manipulation. Again, the family and having children were brought up (by him) but that was another false promise. This time things lasted two weeks. I had made it a condition of my return that things would have to be continually improving and he had a month to show me he could change, if not, then that was it. If he could, then I would give him another month and essentially review things month by month. I was also becoming close to a mutual friend of ours. She was going through some issues of her own, so we would talk to each other and help each other. After a week or so, this was a problem for him. I didn’t need to see her twice a week, why was she my friend anyway? What had she done for me? (he had said this about another friend, and I stopped seeing her) he would complain and make me feel like crap for going out and then worse when I came home. This was not improving, but rather, it was getting worse. I ended up feeling like a prisoner in my own home. I almost felt like apologizing for having a social life and friends. Something he didn’t have. 

#mentalhealth #surviour #silentkiller #victimtosurviour #lifegoeson #mentalhealthiseverything

The big move and the next four and a half years

 Canada – the beginning of the end? The next four and a half years

We were living in my parents’ house. We had the basement area – one bedroom, a small living room, and a bathroom. My dad still had (and still has) his own office there too, but he always kept his door shut. As I had moved over first, I wanted to make sure I could have everything ready for when he joined me. I set about trying to get furniture organized, a TV, adaptors so he could bring his game console. Little things like that. In the future, we would also have our own phone line and satellite. I was also dealing with the rabbits' quarantine and working. By the time he joined me, I had a routine in place. I was at work early in the morning, so I would get an early night. He is more of a night owl, and so I would get the occasional comment about not spending any time together. So I stayed up later and later. I was tired at work, but we were spending time together. 

I had also become used to being on my own, so his first weekend here, my parents went away so that we could have the house to ourselves, and I found that, well, I really wasn’t comfortable with him. I didn’t know what had happened. But I almost felt like I had to fall in love with him again. I had to almost force myself to enjoy his touch and company. When my parents came back, I actually asked my mother not to leave us alone again as he irritated me, making demands as to where to go and what to do. It didn’t take long though, to get past that and remember how much I loved him. I still wanted to be his wife, and have a life and family together. 

It took him some time to find a job. This was hindered by the fact that my parents’ house is out in the middle of nowhere, so you have to drive. At this point, he still didn’t. So he had the pressures of 1) not driving, 2) Moving to another country, where he knew no one. 3) No money as he needed a job and 4) living with my parents. People he had only met once (well, my mother twice) He did struggle, found a couple of jobs, but they didn’t last. Either he felt less of a man as he was a cashier in a supermarket, or the manager was an idiot and didn’t know what they were doing (he had always had an issue with authority, but I overlooked it as just his personality type in the workplace). Eventually, he found a job that he was good at and enjoyed. However, due to the hours, I meant that my mother drove him to work, and then I would pick him up at three in the morning. And his shifts rotated, so it wasn’t a regular routine of hours. This resulted in my sleep pattern being all messed up, especially when he would say that we just haven’t seen each other a lot, or that he missed me. 

Eventually, though I adjusted and was able to support him again and work, and work towards our new life together. We had two wages coming in, so we bought a car. He started working on getting his driver’s license, but it appeared that he suffered from severe anxiety, made much worse by driving. I did everything I could, researched it, came up with techniques to help him cope, found people for him to speak to. I even took him out in the car myself to teach him to drive. It took months and months, but eventually, he took the test and passed. I still took more time before he was comfortable driving on his own, especially at night. But he got there. Then the issue became that I was sleeping when he would get home. I had been at work from nine to six with over an hour’s drive each way, and he got home at three in the morning. So, I would nap in the evening and be awake with dinner for him for when he got home. Only, he would get home and go straight to bed and sleep. It would take me a while to settle and get back to sleep, usually an hour before my alarm would go off. Life was far from perfect, but it felt like it could get there. We just had to make do until we had the money to move out. Only, once again we would spend. We would buy things to make us happy. Games consoles, games and food, lots of food. Food became the center of everything we did. If we went out anywhere, he would plan the trip around which restaurants were in the area. Or we would make special trips to import stores because he missed home. And I drove. I always drove. 

Still, this was all leading up to our perfect life and family. We still talked about having children. He would get all excited and eager. Even if it wasn’t the best time and I was still on the pill. I was on the pill for cramps. They are excruciating and would leave me useless and sick for a few days. But we had names picked out for the children and everything. 

Then things changed. The hours and stresses of work were beginning to get to him. So he started to look for another job, closer to home, with more money and better hours. This was supposed to be a change for the better. And he did find a job that ticked all the boxes. So he left his current job and took the new one. And our perfect life took a back seat for the next three years. 

The new job was not as advertised. Until he completed training, he was not going to get paid. And if he didn’t pass the exam at the end of the training, then he didn’t get the job. Although he had been offered and had accepted the position. His issues with authority surfaced again and he quit. He then spent his days at home while I worked. I would get texts asking me to pick things up on the way home, fizzy drinks, chocolate, takeout. I loved all these things too so I was very happy to get them. Yes, being diabetic, I really shouldn’t be eating and drinking all this, but he wanted/needed it, so I bought it, and if it was in the house, I would eat and drink it too. The temptation was too great. My health then began to get out of control, but that was my issue to deal with, not his. So nothing changed. I would get the occasional comment, without sincerity, asking if I was ok, but nothing changed to help me. 

The longer he was out of work, the worse it got. And then he was diagnosed with depression. I had suspected for a while, but he would refuse to admit that there was an issue or seek help. He would spend his days locked in the bedroom, in bed, and under the covers. He stopped coming up for family meals and stopped going outside. He would cry a lot and tell me to leave him alone unless I had food or fizz for him. It took a lot of my strength to get him through each day. And to carry on working and functioning as if everything was normal. By the time he was threatening suicide, I was finally able to convince him to see the doctor. By this time, I had missed a lot of work, and so my job was on the line. When he started his medication, things got a little easier; I was able to go back to work. We still talked constantly throughout the day; I became a support blanket for him. He tried to go for job interviews, but when he was unsuccessful, it would set him back for days. Back in bed and crying, even on the medication. He then started begging me not to go out and see friends. I needed some space to recharge so that I could carry on looking after and supporting him. But found that I slowly stopped seeing my friends, and the invites stopped coming. We had times when it didn’t matter what I said, he would yell at me, or ignore me and lock himself away. Moments when he would verbally abuse me, telling me that I was useless, annoying him, or even that I was stupid (that was more common when we played trivia games). There were times when I would go for two days without sleep to make sure he didn’t wake up and kill himself in the night. And there were times when we would spend hours and hours talking. Talking about what was going through his mind and what he was feeling. How he could see no hope, but there were things he wanted to do. A future he wanted to have. Sometimes I think this helped. Other times, It led to more anguish and shouting. I’m not a therapist, but I was his as he wouldn’t see anyone else. I also started smoking a lot more during that time. I would often ask myself if I was (he had insisted I quit when we first got together) I would blame the smell on my mother as she smoked a lot.

I lost my job not long before Christmas that year. It was really a mutual decision, I couldn’t keep missing work, and they couldn’t keep covering my shifts. I did find another one the week after, closer to home, a little more pay ($0.50 more), and good hours. I was now able to work and be close if he needed anything. My family was just amazing too. With only one wage coming in, I was allowed to take my time paying the rent. Then it was a case of keeping track of what we owed in rent and paying when I can. Then it wasn’t mentioned. I still know how much I owe them from that time. 

I worked as hard as I could to get him better. I stopped living my life to help him get through his. 

About two years after the diagnosis, my grandfather had to have major heart surgery. I had to be strong for my family, and suddenly, he was strong and there for me. It was almost a 180-degree change for a short while. During this time, I had mentioned that I would like to have a baby. I wanted my grandfather to know his great-grandchild. He told me we could try, even though it was perhaps not the best time or reason, but we could try. I found out later that he had spoken to my mother and said that he was against it but that he wanted to make me happy. We didn’t even try. 

The surgery was successful and my grandfather lived for another two years. His depression was a roller coaster, up and down without warning. Though the good days were slowly outweighing the bad, they were still there. The insults lessened and we started trying to have fun again. He then got a new job, several kilometers away, and yet was happy to drive himself and seemed to “wake up” a bit more. 

Our sex life was also starting to pick up again too. Still not regular, but at least it was about once or twice a month. During the worst of his depression, we spent about a year without it. We started talking about different things too. Not every day was about his depression anymore. We were talking about the future again. And then we started talking about swinging and sex with other people. We had discussed this back in the UK, but nothing ever came of it. We had met a few people but decided that swinging was perhaps not for us. The conversations more than anything seemed to be all we needed to spur us on in the bedroom. We also discussed Throuples and Polyamory. He was so positive about everything and so was I. Our perfect life might be different now, but there was hope. 

A year after he started working in his new job, we decided to move out. We found this wonderful little place in the city where he works and moved. It all happened so quickly. Five months after we moved in, we discussed Poly again and decided to go for it. We had been through so much and overcome it, that we were strong enough to do Poly. He had girlfriends first and met people before I did. However, he was never able to forge a solid relationship with them. There was always an excuse as to why it ended. I was able to meet someone, and we still have a very strong relationship. It has grown and developed, I am forming a friendship with his wife and her partner and I know have a girlfriend as well.  Our Poly lifestyle though is not to blame or responsible for why I left. 

On the outside, people could see a happily married couple, enjoying the new home; I got a new job and planning for the future. Behind closed doors was a different story. 

#mentalhealth #surviour #silentkiller #victimtosurviour #lifegoeson #mentalhealthiseverything

How it all started.

 In the Beginning- the first 18 months

We met online, through a popular dating website (please note that I do not hold the site responsible in any way!), and in the beginning, things were amazing. Our first date (well first meeting really, as until then, we had only spoken via text and email) was something out of a romance film. We met at the train station, under the giant clock. We had talked before and decided to get the awkwardness out the way, the first thing we would do was a kiss. And we did. We then went for a walk along the river, had dinner at a small café on the river bank, then afterward, we walked again for a bit, before sitting on a bench on the river bank where we cuddled and talked, before moving on to a bar for a few drinks. By the end of the date, neither of us wanted to leave and go home. We were so happy to have had such an amazing first date. The train ride home for me seemed to take forever, I really didn’t mind though as we exchanged a few texts and I was feeling so happy and amazing. 

Here was this guy that made me laugh, was easy to talk to, and was just so attractive. I couldn’t believe that someone like him wanted to date someone like me. And judging by the texts, wanted to see me again. I had had some pretty rough relationships in the past (other stories for another time) I had found that in many ways, I was trying to protect myself from being hurt again. I didn’t want to let my guard down and surrender to him, but I found that I couldn’t help it. He was so easy to talk to, so much fun to be around, attentive, caring, that before I knew it, I had let all my guards down. The only flaw I could see was, he didn’t drive and was currently out of work. That was ok though as he was at university, so I didn’t mind paying for things. 

Over the following weeks, we talked daily and saw each other as often as possible. It was like a really good drug, you just wanted more and more and more. I eventually moved out of the place I was staying and into a friend’s apartment with her and her fiancé. My relationship seemed to be going so extremely well, and he ended up staying more and more often. 

Within roughly a year, we moved in together. We rented a two-bedroom house (the original plan was to have his mother move in with us too, but that never happened) it was in a beautiful setting, wide open wooded area behind us, quiet street in front of us. The most AMAZING Chinese restaurant five minutes away (we became regulars there) was picturesque and perfect. We then started to buy pets, started small, hamster, then a rabbit, then another rabbit, then Degus, then a dog. Then we started to foster parrots. The animals were for both of us (though mainly more me I think) and the parrots were for him. I have a fear of birds, but I was so in love by then, that I would learn to cope with them for him. 

We were also members of a local theatre group. I had joined the group first and had done a few products with them. Theatre was another thing we had in common, but I was a little hesitant to have him join. Yes, I wanted to spend every waking moment with him (and sleeping moment too) but this was my thing. For some reason, I wanted to keep that separate. But I smiled and said nothing. We ended up both really enjoying it and working well together. He ended up getting more involved and even directing. I just either worked backstage or performed. I had never had the desire to direct, so I really didn’t mind. 

Also by this time, he had dropped out of university and was working. That was how we were able to get the house together. We didn’t work that far from each other, and I drive, so I would take him to work and pick him up every day. I began to find that the days he didn’t want to go to work, I was also taking them off. If he was sick, I had to make sure he was ok and care for him. On the occasions when I would still go to work, we would talk on my lunch break, and I would feel so guilty being at work, that I would either leave early or risk a speeding ticket on the way home. I also found that I was doing everything, all the housework, and shopping. If he was at work (he worked weekends) that was my routine. I found that I almost enjoyed it, I had the house to myself and I could clean for hours, bake, prepare the evening meal, get the shopping in and take the dog for long walks. I could happily be a housewife. My life was perfect, we never argued, we did lots of things together – life was picture book perfect. Except, I was then diagnosed as diabetic. A slight hiccup so to speak, a family was still possible, but now I had to watch my diet, etc. He was supportive and did what he could to help.

We did have an issue with money. We kept spending it. Taking out loans to buy more and more, to the point we wouldn’t repay any of it. 

Then the recession hit. The company he worked for went bankrupt and fired everyone. I was still working, but there was no way we could afford to live in our picture-perfect house, certainly not with all the debt and no savings. We were also talking about getting married at this point too and starting a family. We really didn’t have that many options and to make things worse, the landlords informed us that they wanted to move back into the house. We could not afford to rent anywhere else. 

So we made the decision to get married (a few years earlier than we had talked about) and move to Canada. I am a Canadian Citizen, so the move was no issue for me. We had to get his Permanent Resident card and application of sponsorship through, but if we were married, that would help. That was another reason why we decided to get married sooner. From the moment we decided to get married, the actual day was only three weeks. In that time, we had the church booked, flowers and food were being done by family members, and the reception was to be at their house too. We had handpicked a small group of friends, and my wedding dress was handmade. The music was picked, the wedding cake was made by my aunt, and a friend was doing the photography. The day itself was fantastic, we had so much fun, spent it with people we cared about and we were both so happy. My mum made it over from Canada, but my dad was unable to cause of work, so my God Father gave me away. The whole day/event was otherwise perfect.

Not long after, all the paperwork was done and we were looking forward to starting fresh in a new country. We had to make other living arrangements though before the move. Money had run out and as I said, the landlords wanted the house back. So I stayed with friends during the week so I could continue to work, and he moved back to his mother’s house. I stayed there at the weekends until I finished work, then I stayed there for a month and a bit before I moved to Canada. We had to do it in stages. I went first to get settled and find a job, then he came over four months later. We brought the two rabbits and the dog with us as well. The rabbits came with me, and the dog came a week before he did.

Then, things started to change.

#mentalhealth #surviour #silentkiller #victimtosurviour #lifegoeson #mentalhealthiseverything