I’ve just finished watching Maid on Netflix (if you haven’t seen it yet, stop what you’re doing and binge it now) and it gave me all the feels and brought up emotions I’ve been trying to sit on for two years.

All I can say is (as much as I want children), I’m so glad I didn’t have one in my last relationship. I knew that at the time, but watching Maid brought back a lot of feelings and reminded me that just because you’re free from abuse, doesn’t mean it doesn’t stay with you, haunt you, creep up on you and catch you by surprise sometimes.

Healing is a continuous journey, especially from something that cuts so deep you might not be fully aware of how much it affected you yet. 

Some days it feels like you’ll never be free of its clutches. Never forget it clawing at your throat, climbing up in tears waiting to spill over. Until you do. That’s when it hits hardest. The days when you forget what was, what happened and what could have been, that it takes you most by surprise.

It can be something as simple as a smell, a song, a feeling, that brings you crashing to the ground, pulled back to those dark and lonely times. For me, it’s the smell of weed (which seemed to be everywhere during lockdown!) or Eminem’s Space Bound - which I sometimes play to remind me of how bad things could have been if I hadn’t ended it when I did.

The line that sticks in my throat the most is the one that starts “I put both hands on your throat, I sit on top of you squeezing...”, you get the idea.

It’s quite terrifying to think of how bad things could have been if I didn’t see sense when I did; didn’t have the support network I do; if I had caved in one more time. It’s not worth thinking about really.

I played that song so many times after I left, just to remind me that I was in a better place, that I did the right thing and was so much better off for it. But it took a lot to even see what happened to me as abuse. You see, there were no bruises, no cuts, scrapes or scars; at least not physical ones. That’s the tricky thing about emotional abuse, it’s hard to see unless you witness it, and oftentimes it’s even harder to believe, even if you’re living through it.

It’s an easy thing to minimise and brush off. To say “that’s not me” because you don’t feel like you’re a victim (or should I say survivor), after all, you haven’t suffered any physical violence (or at least YOU haven’t been hit; maybe it was the coffee table or wall that took the blow instead), so you don’t see how you can be a victim, never mind take the sympathy that comes from anyone who knows.

Then there’s the shame. You don’t want the shame that comes with being a victim. The thought that you could have left - even if you’re the only one thinking it, because let’s face it, anyone who cares about you is just glad you got free, and that it didn’t escalate. Being a survivor of any kind of abuse isn’t something to feel ashamed of. Shame should be reserved for abusers, never victims/survivors, even if it’s hard to accept that you are a victim.

In the words of Halsey (here’s another song I played far too loud, far too many times to get me through) “you’re not half the man you think you are… I’m so glad I never ever had a baby with you”. 

If you’re struggling with any kind of domestic abuse at all, physical, emotional, financial or otherwise, you are not alone.

I think that’s what surprised me the most, that some of the strongest, most independent, no fucks given women I know have been through it too. And do you know what? They came out the other side and are stronger for it. I sometimes wonder if that’s why they’re so resilient and seem to have it all together. Or maybe that’s just me trying to find a silver lining to all of this, trying to see that it wasn’t all for nothing and that it might have at least made me stronger or a little bit more resilient.

But seriously, if you or someone you know is struggling with abuse, please reach out and know that it does get better.

Call Refuge’s 24-hour national helpline on 0808 2000 247

Contact Women’s Aid by email: [email protected]