Sometimes time folds in on itself. A picture, a word, a passing scent can trigger a visit to the graveyard of the past. This week, for me, those pictures and words are everywhere. Attached to them are so much advice. So much opinion. It makes me feel strange inside and I want to say, ‘You know what, just shhh. You’re not helping. You’re making her ground more unsteady’.
That thought in turn makes me wonder if all these years on a small part of me still doesn’t always know where to put my feet.
One night when I was 19, at maybe three in the morning, he wrote ‘I love you’ on an empty wine bottle and waited for me to notice it. And there it began. Boy kisses girl. I was wild and free and loved to laugh and dance and stay up all night. He was wild and talented and clever and funny. He was charismatic. He was also put together wrong.
Over the next 18 months he would slowly deconstruct me.
We loved each other very much, I think. At first. Too much. I loved him for the places where the ground was steady. I was too young to know that so much intensity was not necessarily a good thing. I loved his passion. I loved his talent. We could laugh for hours. The sex was great. He was wrapped up in me and I liked that. We were one against the world. And then, after a little while, the world shifted. There was only our world. And the ground was full of cracks that moved suddenly under my feet.
It started with the narrowest of hairline fractures, so small I didn’t see what it would become. Hours of silence and accusations after he’d seen me laughing with an ex-boyfriend on the college campus. The first bottle thrown. Not at me. Not then. But thrown all the same.
I slowly stopped talking to my friends. It was easier than the knot in my stomach that worried he might see me. I loved him. I just wanted him to be happy. I didn’t want to ‘do anything wrong.’
We started living together. The cracks appeared more frequently. I flirted too much. I laughed too much with his friends. I realised things were very badly awry when I got home from college and chucked my cigarettes and lighter down on the table rather then placing them precisely at the right angle. He threw me down on the floor, knelt on my chest and squeezed my eyes into my head while spitting in my face. Afterwards he cried. I tried to make it better.
Of course there was no better. I just learned to put my cigarettes down properly.
The ground is never steady when you live with someone like that. It shifts with the moods. Where to put your feet becomes an OBSESSION. One day he shoved me against the wall by my throat and threw me down the stairs for putting a ribbon in my hair on the first day of a new term. Why? Who is it for? Who do you want looking at you? You’re so ugly and stupid no one would look at you anyway. The next week the problem was that I hadn’t put any make-up on or a short skirt to go to his gig and he wanted everyone to see his gorgeous girlfriend. I learned then that the cracks had no logic.
By the end of a year, watching the ground was all I did. My friends had stopped talking to me and inviting me to things. I only saw his friends and only briefly. If he went out he’d call every hour to check I was still at home. I tied my hair back every time I cooked (yeah, I even cooked back then) just in case one got in the food. I remember being curled up under the bathroom sink while he pressed my face hard into the wall. I can’t even remember what I’d done. The reasons blur. The outcomes don’t.
And then, for a while, it would all be fine. The knots would unfurl. We would laugh all night. I could do no wrong. It was magic that felt all the stronger for the times I got stuck in the cracks. It was love again. For a while.
One night, I was in the bath and didn’t answer the ringing phone. When he got back he pinned me down so hard he broke both our bed and the top rib under my collarbone. I think he even scared himself a little bit then.
At 41, looking back, reading this back, I can’t believe I didn’t get a bag and walk right out. Even some of his friends, young as we all were, had started looking at me searchingly and asking me if things were okay. I can’t even remember why I didn’t. I was worried about the lease on our flat that our parents had guaranteed. I didn’t want to talk to my parents about it – they still hadn’t forgiven me for my ridiculous adventure the previous year. I didn’t want to talk about it AT ALL.
The crunch came about two weeks later when I was on the phone to his mother – his not mine – and he threw a beer bottle at my head. She told me to get out. She told me not to worry about the rent.
And finally, I did. I was young and the young recover quickly and leave their baggage behind. Sometimes it’s too heavy to carry anyway.
Maybe those pictures are Nigella’s phonecall/beerbottle moment. I hope they are. There are lots of ‘yay she’s moved out’ comments in the papers and on the internet.
Still, it all makes me feel very quiet inside. All I can see in my head is a woman sitting in a corner somewhere wishing everyone would just be quiet about it because it’s all her fault and she doesn’t know where the fuck she’s going to put her feet.
Sarah Pinborough 
June 19th, 2013 at 12:25 pm
Brave, brave, brave. x
June 19th, 2013 at 12:32 pm
Amazing. Thank you.
June 19th, 2013 at 12:34 pm
Wow – this may be a cliche Sarah, but these are brave words, and even braver that they have been immortalised. I have friends who have been through this kind of abuse and everythime I hear of anyone going through it my heart breaks. Liz and I have a great relationship, and jealousy just doesn’t factor in it anywhere – this is why, when someone says they love their partner but still abuses them, it leaves me scratching my head in bewilderment.
To employ yet another cliche “If you truly love someone let them go – if they come back it’s meant to be….”
June 19th, 2013 at 12:40 pm
My sister went through similar with first husband .a policeman .I helped her get house with her twins .she went back couple of times for kids sake but he was too violent . Hit her once for not having his baked beans at optimum temperature . Pleased you came out other side .but when it comes to front pages it must bring back memories for you and many other women .I even tweeted Nigella_Law asking if she was ok . I know my sister felt for years partly to blame .which she wasn’t .but married happily again unfortunately to good man who sadly died . Sorry to prattle on but I anchored violence and bullying to wives xx
June 19th, 2013 at 12:49 pm
I relate to what you have so eloquently put. Fortunately, it was not me but my mother who suffered at the hands of my father. I remember climbing out of a first floor window in my nightie when I was 10 and hanging onto a drain pipe until the violence inside stopped and he realised I was gone. Even at the age I didn’t climb down and go for help because I knew it would upset whatever ‘normal’ times we had. I was 16 when I stepped in and cracked a couple of his ribs, which shocked him to the core, and I never looked back. I packed my bag and left home, in a very middle class way, as I only went as far as my grandparents. It gave my mother the strength to leave finally, and for her life really did begin at 40. She was always a successful business woman, because the worse things got at home the more passion she ploughed into her work life. Victims can be from any walk of life. I felt the same sick feeling when I saw the Nigella photos…
June 19th, 2013 at 1:00 pm
Very powerful, Sarah. Very honest. I don’t have anything to add other than quiet respect.
June 19th, 2013 at 1:35 pm
I cried reading this post, mostly a terrible ache inside for your 19-20 year old self. I think there are many of us who have triggers that send us down a path of remembering the painful past and we wish we could speak to our young selves, or to someone else who doesn’t know where to put their feet. I hope someone will be motivated to take action in their lives because of this post. xx
June 19th, 2013 at 1:54 pm
Hauntingly familiar post Sarah,but we are here, better people now. We can share our experiences and offer support to others in similar situations.
June 19th, 2013 at 1:55 pm
Wow.
June 19th, 2013 at 2:07 pm
Thank you for writing this.
June 19th, 2013 at 2:18 pm
No one should ever have those memories. I hope this blog helps someone who is perhaps in a similar situation, creating those memories for themselves.
Big psychic hugs.
And chocolate.
And wine.
June 19th, 2013 at 2:18 pm
No words.
June 19th, 2013 at 2:25 pm
I grew up in a violent abusive house, and married a controlling arse who was mentally abusive rather than physically. For a girl who’d been sexually abused too, but never saw the signs until she grew older and wiser, he seemed like the only option. Eventually I broke free of the cycle, but it scares me I might slip back, particularly if I’m feeling lonely and vulnerable. Enormous amounts of kudos for your bravery. Be safe, be well.
June 19th, 2013 at 2:37 pm
I doff my hat to your bravery. And you are so right.
June 19th, 2013 at 2:45 pm
I’m just going to echo the thanks for writing this. And the bit about the logic of the cracks? Oof. Yeah. There isn’t any logic. Ever.
June 19th, 2013 at 3:01 pm
Thank you, for capturing the essence of why people stay(ed) Very brave
June 19th, 2013 at 3:04 pm
My divorce is coming through soon. It’s been nearly two years since we separated.
Reading this, felt oh so familiar, yet so different. My partner would hit and kick and slap and scratch and sometimes even bite. I never had any bones broken, but plenty of bruises and scratches and scabs.
My friends stopped noticing the marks and soon they stopped calling at all. It was too much to work around me and my jealous partner. The fear of missing out and low self-esteem lead to endless controlling and interrogation. “What were you talking about?” “Just tell me what the joke was” “Why were you looking at them?”. I’m still not in touch with any of my female friends from before our relationship started. Few of my male friends survived either.
The temper wasn’t confined to me either. Televisions, computers, doors, walls, plates, mugs all have been replaced or repaired. Always during the remorse phase, of course.
With remorse, also came concern that I may tell someone or keep evidence of her embarassingly awful behaviour.
In the end, I self-censored. I stopped looking at people in the eye. I stopped going out. It was easier than to do it wrong.
My partner wasn’t violent all the time, it came it fits and bursts. Some years were better than others. Therapy helped, but never completely wiped out that need for control or ever sufficiently instilled the ability to take responsibility for decisions that went bad. Some one else was always to blame.
The galling thing is that when the relationship ended, I wasn’t the one to end it. I wanted to stay together, for the sake of the children. But when it came to it, my wife wasn’t happy and it I was to blame.
The one time I defended myself, an exercise in restraint – literally, resulted in my arrest: my fingerprints taken, my DNA swabbed from my mouth. The charges were never brought, but the records are all there now. Arrested for domestic violence. Actual Bodily Harm. That file will always be there now.
She gets the kids, the house, the car. She even gets to sue me in the divorce courts for unreasonable behaviour. No doubt she’ll get to come after any money I make after the divorce.
She routinely uses the contact with the children as a lever to get whatever she wants. I’m an on-demand baby sitter, money faucet and errand runner. Anytime I inconvenience her, it isn’t long before my boys aren’t allowed to come and see me.
I’ll never be free of her. I’m bound by her ambition, or lack of it. Because I love my children.
June 19th, 2013 at 3:07 pm
A friend tweeted me your link, which resonates for me. Arguments about mozzarella in pasta being too stringy, him not wanting to go out but not wanting me to so he just sat watching TV while I waited for him until it was too late for me to go on my own, chasing me around the house to carry on an argument that I just wanted to end (even following me into bathroom, towering over me as she shouted at me while I peed), being humiliated in front of cashiers at Tesco so I stopped going with him, not wanting to admit to my parents that their instinctive dislike of him was justified, even humiliating me in front of his own family when he wanted to leave and I was having such a good time that I didn’t want to. No violence until the last time a few months after I’d ended things but we were still sharing the house. I’ve not spoken to his family since that day and I often wonder whether they were surprised that I left or surprised that I’d stayed with him for nine years. *Those photos* sent chills down my spine. I too hope it’s her beerbottle moment.
June 19th, 2013 at 3:09 pm
I guess I never understood why some women feel it is acceptable to tolerate any of it for any length of time – regardless of whose fault it is. I mean, if you are not together, the violence cannot happen, so why?
I ask this because I was 5 years old when I watched my father with a kitchen knife in his hands threatening to kill my mother who had pinned down hard on the floor and because there was no doubt in my mind whatsoever that what I was seeing was wrong and because for the life of me I will not understand why it still took another 2 years for her to divorce him and for me to reach 11 years old so that I felt old enough to say to him – you are no longer welcome in this house which is actually when she stopped letting him in. I asked this of my mother and she said she felt sorry for him. Why did she never feel sorry for me?
June 19th, 2013 at 3:37 pm
I’m glad you got out. A very close friend of mine went through something similar, and when a chance encounter with her excluded friends persuaded her to leave, her possessive boyfriend stabbed her 26 times before slitting her throat. Nicest girl in the world, you couldn’t help but like her even when she broke all your best glasses and forgot stuff miles after you’d left her house. On the dark days when emotion rules over logic I can’t help but wonder if she’d still be alive if she’d stayed, maybe just a little longer. Maybe if I as a friend hadn’t been loyal and not turned my back even when she was forced to, there would have been nothing to escape to. The day she died I realised there was a cost to being my friend and whilst I do not shoulder the blame of her death (he is solely responsible for his own actions), the guilt that I was the reason for her making the decision to leave is branded into my soul.
June 19th, 2013 at 3:39 pm
I have friends I want to send this to, but I’ve said my piece in the past. I’ve shared it because I hope they see it – because I hope they do what you do, and leave. Sooner rather than later. Thank you for sharing x
June 19th, 2013 at 3:40 pm
I’m glad you got out. A very close friend of mine went through something similar, and when a chance encounter with her excluded friends persuaded her to leave, her possessive boyfriend stabbed her 26 times before slitting her throat. Nicest girl in the world, you couldn’t help but like her even when she broke all your best glasses and forgot stuff miles after you’d left her house. On the dark days when emotion rules over logic I can’t help but wonder if she’d still be alive if she’d stayed, maybe just a little longer. Maybe if I as a friend hadn’t been loyal and not turned my back even when she was forced to, there would have been nothing to escape to. The day she died I realised there was a cost to being my friend and whilst I do not shoulder the blame of her death (he is solely responsible for his own actions), the guilt that I was the reason for her making the decision to leave is branded into my soul.
June 19th, 2013 at 3:47 pm
I am breathless and heartbroken. Thank you for being so honest and so true.
June 19th, 2013 at 4:11 pm
Thank you. Sometimes we just need to know that we are not alone and that there is a light at the end of the tunnel if we want there to be. I’m not sure why things like the house and the car and the dvd collect stopped me from moving on, change is terrifying, but living in fear is not living. I thank god for the day it all ended and i could learn to be me again, I’d forgotten how to laugh. You have given me another reason to smile today. Thank you Sarah.
June 19th, 2013 at 4:27 pm
Respect, SP, you have our Respect – Ali
June 19th, 2013 at 4:29 pm
Powerful. Thank you for sharing. d
June 19th, 2013 at 4:29 pm
Sarah, your writing is always powerful and personal but this is on a new level. I ache inside that someone I know suffered so much and nobody stepped up, nobody came to your side with support. To be abused is bad enough; to have that abuse ignored is another. I read this immediately after Giles Coren’s piece in the latest Esquire about his sexual abuse by a teacher 30 or more years ago. He looks back almost with nostalgia. Wrong. Abuse is abuse and I respect and honour you for the courage not just to write your words but also to present them to the world. Will they help other women? God, I hope so. You’re a brave and wonderful person, now surrounded by the love and support of everyone who reads your works. I’m sorry we weren’t all there for you when you needed us.
June 19th, 2013 at 4:38 pm
[…] then I read something like this essay from Sarah Pinborough, in response to the recent scandal surrounding the public abuse of Nigella Lawson by her seemingly […]
June 19th, 2013 at 5:33 pm
Hi, I know you’re an amazing writer; I read mayhem. But this piece is the best blog you have written. I’m sitting here crying. Not for you, but for me, or the memory of me. The tying back the hair in particular, but it wasn’t to cook, it was to look less of a woman in front of others. It’s a wonderful, honest and brave piece x
June 19th, 2013 at 5:54 pm
Thank you for sharing this. It resonated- coming from an alcoholic family I know about walking on eggshells, and your story bridged the link from that which I understand, to that which I did not- staying with an abuser. Your honesty will help others find their bottle moment.
June 19th, 2013 at 5:56 pm
Many women go through at least one abusive relationship, and this post describes that experience very well. Remembering that the prompt was the Nigella Lawson story, I have to point out that Lawson is my age, not 19–or even 41. If people are shocked because she stays in such a relationship it’s because so many of us left men like her husband decades ago. Lawson is in a very different place, and the accumulation of physical and psychological abuse must have taken a great toll. I salute you–and myself–for walking away from abuse. And I’m glad you realize that Lawson may be too damaged to do the same.
June 19th, 2013 at 6:01 pm
Yes, this. Truth. I am glad for you being able to look back and remember. I still lose something, coherence, memory, when I remember.
Thank you.
June 19th, 2013 at 6:21 pm
Nobody should have to put up with that Sarah. It must have taken a hell of a lot to put this in words. I just hope your words help others to get out of bad relationships.
June 19th, 2013 at 6:37 pm
So glad you got out and got away. My mother put up with shit like this for too many years. My wife did with the last asshole she dated before leaving him and us getting together. And it heartens me that I’ve seen her growth and how much she’s succeeded and achieved in the intervening 25 years. You were the strong one. He was the weak one.
Good for you.
June 19th, 2013 at 6:51 pm
I love you for writing this. If its okay, may I give a hug the next time you sign a book for me, if it wouldn’t be too intrusive?
June 19th, 2013 at 6:52 pm
I have a similar story – much like you I tried to stick it out, make it work. Friends drifted away because I wouldn’t leave, wouldn’t listen because he was otherwise good to me. Foolish but I was young and it was instilled in me at an early age that the “man” was always right and if there was a problem in the relationship it was up to me to fix it. After the first ‘blowout’ I threw him out of the house. The only support I received from my father was “you had better clean up the mess in the house” and “the rent had better not be late” and out of necessity I was forced to take him back. I finally got out of the situation but far from unscathed
Dijana – maybe you were luckier than most. But there is/was a societal perception or cultural norm that puts women into these situations with no way to get out.
Sarah speaks of her experiences during a time when women were still expected to be subservient to men.
Thankfully that is becoming the exception rather than the norm, but it is still there and the fight is to bring it out of the shadows and into the light and to end it once and for all.
June 19th, 2013 at 7:16 pm
An achingly familiar story, Sarah. I’m sorry, for you, for me, for all the others who’ve been there, who are there still. Thank you for writing this.
June 19th, 2013 at 7:54 pm
I came by way of a link left by a couple friends on FB, Ellen Datlow and Damien Walter’s Grintalis. Coming from an abusive childhood, of course I went straight into an abusive adulthood…
“I don’t know where to put my feet up” is the most appropiate way to explain that helplessness, the not belonging anywhere feeling that comes with any kind of physical or mental abuse. In my case my disability (I’m now fully deaf) was beat over my head until I truly believed how utterly worthless I must be.
Years later I’m still haunted by those men and the way they made me feel. These days I honestly pity them, their small minded controlling complexes. I’ve come a long way and it sounds like you have too. I learned to make my peace with life before life buried me under an avalance of ‘what-was’. Thank you! For adding your voice to the many who go on.
I truly believe we are stronger at the broken places. (Hugs) Indigo
June 19th, 2013 at 9:25 pm
Well said, Sarah! I hope it was liberating for you to be able to write about it (as I remember it was for me to be able to write about my parents).
June 19th, 2013 at 9:31 pm
Sarah, thanks so much for writing this. I have spent all week feeling tearful and angry after seeing the pictures of Nigella. I felt it all over again when I read your blog. If there can be one positive thing that comes from this week, I hope it’s that people realise you don’t have to be a “victim” to suffer abuse of this kind. Women who are beautiful, confident and funny can also have their sense of self-worth eroded by a systematic attack. I have my own story, and you’re absolutely right about the “cracks” and the slow deconstruction. There are so many people who will tell you that they wouldn’t let themselves get into that situation. Maybe they’re right, but if someone reads your blog and recognises the “cracks” in their own relationship maybe they will get out at the right time.
I salute you.
June 19th, 2013 at 10:29 pm
Thanks for writing this. There will be some, at least, who recognize the situation and start moving in a healthier direction, and we need lots of that! The abuse can be so hard to see, when one’s in the middle of it…. I went through a similar hell (the abuse wasn’t physical). I’m out of it now, and I’ve learned a lot. Readers, don’t fear asking for help. There are forums, hotlines, etc. Make use of them!
June 19th, 2013 at 10:53 pm
You know lots of women go through these kind of abuse everyday and are so scared to say a word or even blink for someone to help, but it is about time we all rise up and speak out about the violence that comes with crazy love sometimes. Well written and I felt every word, this can save a life and can empower someone who may be going through what you have. Thanks so much, it is an eye opener.
June 19th, 2013 at 11:29 pm
Crying now.x
June 20th, 2013 at 1:04 am
Thank you for this. I shared this on my FB wall because I (too) would like to raise awareness/conviction in the worth of striving for personal empowerment and fulfilment. The worth of clarifying and making a stand for where we want to put our feet.
Abuse is abuse, from whomever and throughout any aspect of life. While there are many reasons to take it there also many reasons not to, many better ways to strive for. With determination, we can create our happy life.
June 20th, 2013 at 7:12 am
Well done. How brave you are.
Terrible circumstances in my home led to physical/emotional abuse. Alcoholism and mental illness played their part. There came a point when I realised that it wasn’t me, that it had nothing to do with me; I was still a child then, heartbroken, but not headbroken.
But it gave me a hard edge that kept me safe; I only ever had one boyfriend who tried to hurt me. He kicked me from behind, I turned, slammed the door in his face and told him to leave, then I phoned the police. A stranger tried to attack me, I fought him, removed his knife and got rid of him, thought it was a terrible experience.
Now I read your words and wonder how much of my self, was born from the girl who suffered. My friends calls me strong, but perhaps I stand on the shoulders of a giant; little girl me.
There is something small in all of us, but something giant too. Thank you for sharing this part of yourself, little and giant.
June 20th, 2013 at 11:02 am
Very candid, brave and unflinching. I have forwarded this to a friend who is in a controlling relationship.
June 20th, 2013 at 11:19 am
Reading this, it’s frighteningly similar to my relationship 11 years ago. So much of what you write was me during that time. I was thrown down stairs, pinned so furniture broke, cracked ribs, had a cricket bat taken to my left knee…… Thank you for writing this piece!
June 20th, 2013 at 12:21 pm
A long distance friend went through something similar. In some ways she may have had it better (she hasn’t described any attacks so bizarre and physical. Yet.) but in others… his family sided with him, and she had a baby to worry about.
I’m sorry there are people like that in the world. I’m glad you had the strength share your story.
June 20th, 2013 at 12:59 pm
Love to you, Sarah. Great big love and gratitude for you honesty and courage. I want to show this letter to my daughters because they always wonder how someone gets into an abusive relationship. You nailed it.
June 20th, 2013 at 1:14 pm
I’d like 5 minutes in a cage with this kind of person…
June 20th, 2013 at 2:38 pm
Thank you for putting yourself out there. I hope that there is someone out there who reads this and finds her/his feet and makes up their mind to get out. Any type of violence should not be tolerated. Turn that person in to the Authorities. Press charges and be strong. Go to a shelter if you don’t have any place else to go. There are people who are only on your side.
June 20th, 2013 at 2:39 pm
Reading this gives me the strength and courage to continue with my battle. Although not physically abused, the mental tirade of manipulation, bullying and destruction of my self image has left scars that will take years to heal. There are days when I simply want to throw in the towel but then I think if my beautiful 20 month old little boy and somehow I find the will to keep going. Kudos to all those who have taken a stand and said enough, no more. You are all so brave. God bless
June 20th, 2013 at 4:21 pm
*Awestruck face*
June 20th, 2013 at 4:38 pm
Reblogged this on A page from the emptiest stage… and commented:
This is chillingly good.
June 20th, 2013 at 11:01 pm
So much respect for your bravery and beautiful truth-telling Sarah. Thank you for writing this. I’m so sad you went through something so terrible. And I too have thought about the woman at the centre of this whole affair, who is probably frightened and humiliated and just wants everyone to stop talking about her. Because the shame you feel when you’re on the receiving end of abuse is just beyond words. x
June 20th, 2013 at 11:54 pm
Absolutely moving.
Thanks for sharing this with us.
June 21st, 2013 at 2:59 pm
from one who peered out across the chasm to another – well done, you. those that offer their perfect 20/20 hindsighted “i never liked him anyway” and “why did you marry him in the first place” comments never fully understand. and truthfully, they are better off that way. if you can never quite figure it out for yourself, explaining it to others can be fruitlessly exhaustive. but you’ve done beautifully here. so again, i say – well done, you. for the writing, and for the life you live.
June 21st, 2013 at 3:02 pm
from one who peered out across the chasm to another – well done, you. those that offer their perfect 20/20 hindsighted “i never liked him anyway” and “why did you marry him in the first place” comments never fully understand. and truthfully, they are better off that way. if you can never quite figure it out for yourself, explaining it to others can be fruitlessly exhaustive. but you’ve done beautifully here. so again, i say – well done, you. for the writing, and for the life you live.
June 21st, 2013 at 6:39 pm
What a powerful piece of writing, thank you and (if you don’t mind) congratulations too – I feel it takes a lot of strength,courage and just sheer personality to do what you have done.
June 21st, 2013 at 10:06 pm
[…] anything to say about the Nigella Lawson story that isn’t much more meaningfully put in this awe-inspiring, naked piece by writer Sarah Pinborough. Read it, and […]
June 22nd, 2013 at 5:38 pm
*safe virtual hugs if you’d like them*, Sarah. I have lived in similar situations and watched my dysfunctional parents live out something similar (dad has schizophrenia, though). Thank you so much for sharing this with us.
July 26th, 2013 at 11:15 am
[…] in the genre, or this letter to her teenage self (which I think I’ve plugged here before), or especially this one. There are some in our genre who view Sarah simply by her public persona on Twitter and Facebook, […]
July 28th, 2014 at 10:15 pm
Brilliant, and exactly how it feels.
July 28th, 2014 at 11:28 pm
Thank you for writing this. You are so brave, this is so powerful, and I hope it inspires other people in relationships like that to get out early on when they can see the signs. I was in one, and I ran. The damage was done, but I ran eventually. Thank you again for this,
July 28th, 2014 at 11:38 pm
This is all too familiar to me, I could’ve written it myself. But I did not. You did. Thank you for saying what I never could.
July 28th, 2014 at 11:54 pm
Merci. 💚
July 29th, 2014 at 2:12 am
Reblogged this on bibliophiliacs and commented:
A very powerful piece… brought back some memories I am glad are just memories.
July 29th, 2014 at 2:23 am
Thank you. I, too, remember being young and not knowing where to put my feet, and that ahah moment when I realized I needed to get out.
July 29th, 2014 at 6:09 am
Dear Sarah,
I have respect for you. I am I the middle of divorce from mentally abusive husband, I’m happy that this is the only evil I’ll see from him. In just a month time he showing some, strange to me, face of bastard. Every day he do some even more bad things, like some mind games who can think of something that will hurt other but no one other can see that. Now, lucky me I stand solid with my both feet on the ground, he can do me no harm, I’m spiritually strong, I have found source of life in me! That is true power! I can see through those masks that he try to put on him, on the inside he is just a young boy who want his girlfriend back and he doesn’t know how to act in order to achieve that. Ok, this is part of my story at this moment. 🙂
The date when you wrote this is from last year, so how are you feeling today?
Peace&Love
July 29th, 2014 at 12:53 pm
Right now this is exactly what I needed to read, my husband of less than 6 months has left me for a much much younger model. And I was so busy watching the ground for cracks in my marriage I didn’t see the walls come down around me.
July 29th, 2014 at 1:49 pm
Powerful!! ‘Splains a lot! I’m so proud to know you
July 30th, 2014 at 2:08 am
That was very honest, and terrible, and beautifully voiced. How many people, male and female, get sucked into a few good days that are outnumbered by the horrible, at the hands of a lost soul? Your writing is so blunt and transparent, and I love it. Thanks for sharing!
August 5th, 2014 at 6:25 am
I know the feeling.
August 5th, 2014 at 6:26 am
Reblogged this on As Life Happens and commented:
When you think that you’re the only one, remember that you’re not – and that being strong is not wrong.