You pursued me, pretended to love me, when all you wanted was control.

The day you met my kids in that cafe, you encouraged them to misbehave – made believe it was a harmless game. You played like a fun guy to make them like you, but you were a fungus of the most poisonous kind, killing my mind.

Your behaviour changed on the day you moved into my place, taking control of every corner of my life. You held the money and you chose my clothes. Soon I was clad in ugly rags. You bought the food, yet said we had no money for my children’s shoes.

When I wanted to stop eating meat, you bought half a pig.

When I planned to give up chocolate, you showered me with the goo. You even bought me a man’s tee shirt that said “Dip me in chocolate and throw me to the lesbians”. How could I possibly have worn that?

You bought me another that was steeped in chocolate fragrance.

You asked me what was my favourite fragrance, bought it for another woman and made sure I saw it. You wanted me to think it wass for me, and I did, giving you the opportunity to tell me it was for Kaye.

You had fun with that nasty little game, and Kaye always played along. I was meant to see the expression on your face when you spotted her in the street, and you both intended to make me feel humiliated as you flirted with each other.

I saw Kaye try to play the same tricks with other men while their wives were present, but none of them played along.

You made me sell my house, and we moved. You adult son came to live with us, and the two of you made it clear that me and my children had no rights. You ganged up on us, making the most unreasonable rules. We were there for over a year before I discovered that my name was not on the deeds. You had stolen the home that I paid for. Meanwhile your son was stealing money, and you were blaming my oldest child. I laid a trap, and proved it was him. When I spoke to you about it, you stammered, looked lost, and then became angry.

“What abot Sarah,” you yelled, “she left her bag in the hall when she came home from school.”

That was one of the rules; my girls were not to leave their bags in the hall even for a moment. Sarah had gone to the bathroom before putting her bag away.

You fathered my two youngest children, and used them as a weapon against me, spoiling them and bullting them in turns, being deliberately inconsistant, making empty threats so that they ended up confused and warped by you.

You made me feel ugly and unappealing. I did my best to please you, but that only made it worse. Other men found me attractive, and even tried to steal me from you. At least three of them went to great lengths, but ai came to the conclusion that they were all crazy – why would they want someone as disgusting as me?

I shut myself off from friends as you humiliated me whenever there was an audience. If anyone came to dinner you would push you plate away, saying the food I’d carefully cooked looked too horrible to eat.

If I made an effort to look nice, you’d glance at me then turn away, as if my repulsiveness made your eyes hurt. The more I tried to please you, the worse you became. I could tell a thousand stories of your dirty antics, but I’m bored with talking about it.

You denied your warped psychology – tried to make me believe I was paranoid, and it worked. For a long time I felt too pathetic to leave you. You made me think I was too useless to survive on my own. It was only after I finally got away that I found out the worst of your crimes.

I must have been blind not to have seenwhat you were. The clues were there every time we walked down the street.

You should have gone to prison; for a while, that was what I wanted, but it was not my choice to make. When the secret reached the ears of the man who broke your ribs in revenge for what you did, you thought his sin was greater than yours, which goes to show just how sick you are.

You tried to unravel me, and for a while it looked as if you had, but I survived, and now I understand, it was you who was unravelled. My mother once said you were inadequate, looking sad as she spoke those words. She was a kind woman. I wonder if she knew what an understatement she’d made.

The Daily Post #Unravel

©Jane Paterson Basil

24 thoughts on “Unravelled

  1. Very intense and a clear description of domestic violence at it’s worst! Those battered and bruised at least come to the attention of the medical world who should get authorities involved but this type of abuse is far more pervasive and sick … you were strong to escape! Sorry you lost your home and that he stuffed up the kids. The warning signs were all there but you were so down trodden you needed time and courage to escape such a monster … sorry for your pain.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. It’s all in the past now.
      After I left him he begged me to go back (“I love you. I’ll be different this time”, etc). He tried all sorts of tricks. That was ten years ago.
      These days, more than anything, I feel pity for him. I agreed to go with my daughter to see him today. That’s partly why this post bubbled to the surface.

      Liked by 1 person

    1. It took me 18 years – I left 10 years ago. Just as I felt I’d recovered, I found out that my two youngest children were heroin addicts.
      Right now I feel so happy that those two sentences feel like a joke; the words “heroin addicts” being the punchline…

      Liked by 1 person

        1. I have to hold my hands up to this – it was my own fault, the result of a mistake I didn’t correct until too late. I knew early on that I should have got away from that ogre, but I’d messed up a marriage to a good man (who I shouldn’t have married in the first place, as I didn’t love him in the right way) and I was ashamed to admit I’d screwed up again by getting involved with such a creep, so I stayed with him. Then he damaged me so much that I felt incapable of leaving.
          I was an idiot all through my twenties, and into my early thirties. For about seventeen years after that I was a mess. Somewhere in the middle I got a gall-bladder infection and I was so ill I could hardly get out of bed. He refused to get medical help for me, and I was in too much of a state to do so. In the end, my seven year old daughter heard a crash in the middle of the night, and found me collapsed on the stairs after struggling to the bathroom. She woke up her nine-year old sister who called for an ambulance. The doctor who examined me was furious that I hadn’t been seen sooner, He said that I could have died! It took a long time to recover, and by then Craphead had even more power over me.
          All I want to do now is make up for it.

          Liked by 1 person

          1. Oh my goodness, Jane! That’s such a horror story. Thank God your kids had their heads screwed on and got you help. It will come home to roost at his doorstep in one way or another.
            What a road you have travelled – I am in awe of your resilience 🙂

            Liked by 1 person

            1. “Some are born to sweet delight, some are born to endless night.” I have my share of sweet delight, whereas I think he lives in endlesss night. I’ve suffered the fallout, but have the reasurance of knowing that I do all I can to atone for past weakness. He has to live with his crimes. Maybe that’s enough.

              Liked by 2 people

              1. It’s his journey and he is reaping the consequences of his actions. Perhaps he will learn and change. Some do, some don’t. But whatever happens to him is not of your doing and it is out of your hands.

                Liked by 1 person

              2. Actually, you are too generous on this. People have to live with their karma, without doubt. You are being hard on yourself, too. When when is required is to use the experience for the better. Easy for me to write. I feel sure you will understand? As can be seen. Most are feeling for you and have sympathies. As I do also. Many others, make similar errors of judgment. Once we realize that we are caught in the mire … maya. Atonement? Hmmm? Very Catholic in connotation. We can do what we may but karma is that female dog. Just pursue your good actions and let atonement fall where it may. Would be my two penn’orth. This post is very honest and forthright. It seems to push a lot of buttons. My best wishes for as you push forward. … Making it right … hehe! Cheers Jamie

                Liked by 1 person

                1. I use the word atonement far too freely, since I like the way it sounds. It’s related to what I mean, but not altogether accurate. I intend to be totally honest when I write, but sometimes my liking for particular words makes a liar of me 🙂 but it’s true I’m hard on myself. It keeps me in order.
                  You’re the first person in my 28 months on WP who’s commented on the title of my blog. Finally the meaning has been spotted, and I’m grateful for that.
                  All the best, Jane

                  Liked by 1 person

  2. “You tried to unravel me, and for a while it looked as if you had, but I survived, and now I understand, it was you who was unravelled.” I’d say you found the light at the end of the tunnel with that statement!

    Liked by 1 person

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