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Alcohol, lies and deceit: one woman’s triumph over abuse

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There is a certain aspect of abuse that we don’t talk about. We know that physical harm and abuse strike fear into the hearts of victims the whole world over.

We also know that one hospital trip for abuse-related issues is already one too many. We also know that someone who is being abused will sometimes endure years of unspeakable and nightmarish scenarios we can’t even begin to comprehend.

What we neglect to talk about is how much emotional damage is done in the process. We don’t talk about how abusers manipulate, verbally abuse and tear down the self-esteem of their victims.

Its aspects manifest itself in self-doubt and gas-lighting. It’s the “did he really make me feel that way or am I just imagining things” feeling and it’s the feeling of being completely convinced that everything you feel is not valid.

In Trapped, a true story about surviving abuse, Sam Scarborough recounts how she went from and independent career woman to someone desperate to get out of the worst kind of hell. 

The following excerpts are diary extracts from her book, Trapped, and has been published with permission from NB publishers.

1.00 a.m. Me: Are you coming home?
2.00 a.m. PC says of course he is coming home – he is just finishing work and is under intense pressure.
2.30 a.m. PC says he has left his keys at the office and will be home in four minutes. He ends with lots of kisses.

When he gets home, it is confirmed, for me, that this was all a lie. He had gone out for lunch and got pissed. There was a conference call at some stage, but he’d gone out afterwards and carried on drinking. His first text is a lie. He could have called.

I was worried that he had been run over by a truck, as he had said he would be cycling home. He was meant to visit his kids tonight, so he needed to be back at 6.30 p.m. to change.

I had known he was lying the minute his first text had come through. He couldn’t call me because he was in the pub. He couldn’t come home to me because that would be unfair: he had not seen his kids, so how could he choose me over them?

And he couldn’t go to see his kids at his ex-wife’s house as he was too drunk. He’d kept on drinking because it numbed his pain. Because he was angry that I had called my ex- boyfriend. He’d kept on drinking, and had come up with all of these reasons to point the finger at me.

He takes it out on me when he comes home. I have to open the door for him as he has forgotten his keys at work.

He denies that he is drunk, almost tripping over the front steps in the process. Then he lashes out at me, for an hour, and tells me I am very depressing to live with, among the other points I’ve listed below. He is shouting at me. His face is puce. His lips are purple again from all the drinking. Another night of verbal abuse, a tirade of bullshit. Here is his list for my future improvement:

1.  I ‘fucking’ cook the wrong food. I have moved into his life and am judging him. Where is his shepherd’s pie and the ‘real’ food he likes to eat? Why am I feeding him bloody salads all the bloody time? Why am I trying to change him?

2.  His house has been a pigsty since we arrived. I do not tidy up and he does not like having kids’ stuff lying around. He wants his house as it was before.

3.  I don’t do enough washing. His shirts are always lying around, unironed.

4.  I have not made an effort with his kids. I am cold to them. I do not play with them.

5.  My daughter is spoilt and badly behaved and he has had to try very hard to like her.

6.  I am a bad mother.

7.  I am just bullshitting him. I am using him. It is all about me; he has no rights.

8.  I should have asked him before I called my ex- boyfriend, the English Patient. I am living with him and need to ask his permission.

9.  How dare I make cupboard space for myself? How dare I move his suits to the spare room and hang my clothes in his cupboard?

10. I have not said thank you for anything.

11. All he wants to do is come home and sit on his couch, watch TV and read his book in bed like every other person in the world does. I prevent that.

I sit there listening to all the crap that is spewing from his mouth, and wonder how I landed up with him. Nobody has ever spoken to me this way.

What is this, the Dark Ages? I do not clean and iron enough? I am not allowed to call my ex-lover unless I ask him first? Am I stoned? Did this actually happen? Fuck me, this is unbelievable.

READ MORE: Luckiest Girl Alive

Day 57: Let’s all play Happy Families!

He is in a worse mood tonight. Remorseful? Feeling guilty, perhaps, about his behaviour last night? I doubt it, but just for good measure he has another go at me.

We are discussing half-term break plans and I say I am keen to do a bicycle ride in France or something. He says he does not want me to do that on my own, that he thinks it is a shit idea. He is appalled by my idea of a holiday. We look at Morocco, and he Googles the biggest hotel: 700 rooms. I am horrified. That would be my worst nightmare. I ask what’s become my ever- present question of late: How did I land up with this man? Well, I moved in with someone after just 17 days – what did I expect? I remind myself that I do not know him at all.

What is the point of sitting in a big hotel, on a sun lounger, with other tourists? Eating mediocre food, cooked by a Western chef with Moroccan spices? I want to eat on the streets, do the markets, stay in a pension and experience the place. He wants five-star- resort luxury. We have a problem.

And then, the ultimate no-no. He books the place in Spain again. The place he took his ex-wife to while I was shacked up in his London house.

If this is not bad enough, it’s a villa on a golf course and I don’t play golf. (Did I mention I am a golf widow? I basically got divorced over golf.)

So, I am off to Spain, to a golf estate. His friends are going to be there with their families, the same friends who were there before with him and his ex- wife. Let’s all play Happy Families! But, hey, I can’t complain. He has paid for everything.

And I have never been to Spain before.

Days 57–61: Another lost week

I lose this week as well. I am reeling from the verbal abuse and don’t know what to make of any of it. I am devastated.

The only good thing about this week is that I receive my results from the John Hunter Clinic: ‘All your results are negative. This means there are no problems. Thank you.’

The irony is not lost on me.

Day 62: Drunk  again, for a  change

It is 11 p.m. He called earlier to say he was just going for a drink and would be back soon. He has now been drinking since 6 p.m.

He sent a text at 10.15 p.m. saying he would be home in 20 minutes. He gets home an hour and a half later, staggering, puffing up the stairs. He sits his big, fat arse on the bed to reach his socks, fights with his suit-hanger thing for a few minutes, actually brushes his teeth and splashes water on his face. Then, he tries to snuggle up – stinking of smoke, sweat and beer.

Purchase a copy of Trapped from Takealot.com.

READ MORE:

Sex, lies and betrayal: when your partner has an affair

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