Sarah Woe

Initially I found it shocking that some people simply don't understand the devastating effects of emotional abuse. I think someone even wrote here - why don't they just leave? But then I think back to myself as a young woman when I said "I would never put up with any man treating me badly - I'd just leave him!". I remember saying that with superficial flippancy on a night out with friends, so I don't think I should judge those comments. Roll forward 20 years and 2 small children, recently divorced and I met a man who swept me off my feet and promised me eternal happiness. For 7 years I was a mummy and a partner. I also became an expert at meticulously, quietly planning every single detail of every single day for myself and my children. Every minute of every hour was planned by me. I was ready and prepared at all times of the day and night. I was alone and fighting. I know all this now. I became, without even noticing it over time, a highly prepared individual who could lie her way through anything and fake everything. People around me probably saw me as well groomed, happy, a good mother, attractive, and quite privileged, I think. I was unable to choose freely without feeling a growing panic inside.  I was always acutely aware of my surroundings, looking out for signs of imminent danger. I have kept this with me to this day and cannot be in a room with any sort of conflict. If I chose that cereal over the other cereal in a supermarket, feelings of fear begin to rise in me. The winter afternoons walking aimlessly with the children pretending to be on an adventure when he worked from home, so they wouldn't do anything wrong or cause him stress in the house and keep them safe, the Sunday mornings driving frantically around the shops because I'd forgotten his favourite drink in the weekly shop the day before and now no-one stocked it, the excessive cleaning of the kitchen tops so they shone (once he made me return from work to clean them), pre-empting the children not putting the cutlery back in the drawer properly or the handles of the mugs facing the wrong way in the cupboards, so doing it for them, making sure they ate quietly and never had more food than him on their plates.....never being seated when I heard his car park up on the drive, making sure the children were all tucked up in bed when he got back from work,..were the cushions placed evenly across the sofas, were the towels placed evenly in the bathrooms. and the list is eternal and the rules were hundreds. Organisation was key. Every minute of every day, for myself and the children. I lived by timing each event, meal, shower, conversation, or outing to avoid danger. I have many stories to tell - but I'm not a celebrity or famous and I've not even told my story to my friends - the shame I feel is so real - each story I recall more shocking than the previous - the physical abuse was the least scary for me - and did not happen more than 10 times in 7 years. Here's the thing - something happened to me. But it shouldn’t have happened to me. I was an independent, strong working Mum. I had a nice little house and the 3 of us were doing ok. My children were small. They are now adults. Their scars are forever present, just like mine, although, just like mine, you can’t see them. It’s almost like an invisible bond that engulfs us and no one can see. I thought this film was very good.