I was in a loveless relationship. I really didn’t know how to love and D, was an extremely miserable person, we did not get along. I would be cursed or emotionally abused over the simplest thing. He was now becoming more like a father, although he couldn’t compare to my father.
If I said for instance, I’m going to the shop to buy a blue balloon, and I came back home with a red baloon. I would be seen as a liar, any reason for abuse. No matter how I would try to explain that it was not available. I would still be a classed as liar, with a smack in the mouth. There were no form of logic unless he was doing the reasoning. I got use to keeping my mouth closed.
D was a totally irrational human being. I blamed myself continuously for my situation? But what was my option? After all it was my fault that I was in this relationship. The D that I had known at 14 years old was not the D that I knew now. He was already an alcoholic when we met, but gradually it became worse. Sometime later I realised that his father was an alcoholic too, whom was a strict disciplinarian. I guess D, well maybe he didn’t know better. Did he?
There were times when I felt like a much older woman. I use to watch girls my age, walking past my kitchen window in the morning, maybe going to college or work. They would be wearing make up, their hair would be nice and dressing pretty. I had started to notice myself, and although I was not use to fashion; I was beginning to notice things about how I looked. At this point I felt totally worthless in society.
During those times my clothes were only replaced when they were worn, and as no one ever complimented me the need to look a certain way did not phase me. My clothes were just covering for the body. D was also old fashioned then and because he was like an older man in a younger body; we we went together like two peas in a pod. In the physical sense.
After a while I noticed the violence reduced. After all D was a carpenter and couldn’t drink on the job, he sure made up at weekends and I would be the first to know. After drinking senseless he would forget what he did, and try to apologise by cooking dinner or doing some kind gesture, but sadly, the mental damage was already done. The disappointment of what he had turned out to be, was now eating away at my heart. Therefore when D became softer in his approach! I was becoming more resentful. This was a situation that I did not want. This was a life I did not want. Life was a prison cell. Although the violence reduced it still continued with an equal amount of apologies.
I remained frightened of D .
In fact I could never relax around D; and worse sadly I couldn’t relax around my youngest daughter, I still felt like the foster carer/childminder. D would not really get involved with the care for my other girls. But with the baby he was in total control. I recall I was convinced my baby didn’t like me, therefore my attention for my daughter was sadly reducing.
D made sure that the baby liked him though, she was his prized possession, and I was continuously pushed aside. D. would shout at me, when she was hungry or needed general care. My daughter develop chronic whooping cough which later developed into asthma, she also had Excema, a skin condition. All this just made my life harder. D was not impressed to say the least. I constantly tried to maintain the relationship with the baby, but it was not easy.
I would never hurt her, but I recall when doing things for the baby it seemed more like it was a duty and I did my duty well to avoid the violence.
I grew closer to my other girls, as I always felt the need to protect them. After all they only had me and I had them. I often sat and wandered how they would be as sisters. I knew that my sole intention in life was for them to be close. That remained my ultimate mission. Although I knew I was a mother of three. D had spoilt the relationship with my baby and I. It was now like a them and us situation.
I eventually found a Friend Within D’s, family. This was his favourite sister. She was different to the others, she was kind and pretty. I wished she was my sister, she was the only person in his family that appeared to cared about me. Becky ( not real name) was his second eldest sister, we became good friends, she was generally really nice. One of those people that lit up the room when they walked in. She was liked by people wherever she went. The only problem was my lack of trust with anyone, and this included Becky.
The relationship with me and his sister was a pleasant one. But I knew how close she and D were so my guards never came down, and I never ever told her about the violence. I was afraid of the whole family to be honest. I had become a nervous person due to circumstances and also due to my fear of people.
Further by this time Anxiety was permanent fixture in my existence.
It took me years to work out why I was so uncomfortable around Ds family, then I worked it out.
It was their eyes.
I was unable to look them in the eyes, especially his mother. The whole family seemed to have those eyes, very penetrative cat like eyes. when I was pregnant with my daughter, I hoped she would not have those eyes but she did. I guess this added to my feelings towards her, my baby was….
“one of “them”.
l continued to feel like my daughter wasn’t my own and I was also scared to love her as I felt one day he would take her away, I knew I would not have been in a position to fight back, I knew no matter what to keep my daughter, I had to stay with D.
Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. I spent the days between the grocery store and home. Until….
One day, The unthinkable happened.