87,600 little hours…
Not long ago Glynn Bass and I celebrated a decade together. I say celebrated but it was more like we were in bed and a Facebook memory popped up reminding us. We’re not very organised about anniversaries but a decade has indeed passed. I can hardly believe it actually, our relationship was born of a hopeful Facebook search and look at us now. I feel very lucky.
Sometimes in my more retrospective moments, I feel even better about where I am now because I’m another year past my last relationship. Now it’s been a whole decade since that ended and the same amount of time since I’ve laid eyes on The Worst Person in the World™.
I like to think I’m not bitter and there’s really no reason for me to be. Things worked out for the best and I got out of there are soon as I was able to – but it’s hard not to acknowledge the psychological scars. It’s harder still when you talk to your friends and they mention their own mentally abusive relationships.
How I would love to punch the face of any dickhead foolish enough to try and break one of my girls. How I want to rage for hours about how much they are worth and why these bastards aren’t even fit to lick their shoes.
How I fucking wish I could have taken my own advice. That will always be the hardest thing to come to terms with. How did I let it drag on for so long – why didn’t I up and leave at the first sign of trouble?
That’s the million dollar question and I know the answer. I didn’t have the energy because day by day, I was taught that I didn’t have any worth. That I was nothing. I thought I was strong and independent but it turns out those qualities weren’t prominent enough to save me from believing him. Well, until they were.
I think, ten years on, it’s time for me to forgive myself.
I know we’re not supposed to dwell on the past and honestly, it’s all just a passing (bad) memory every now and again but when I hear my friends talk about similar experiences, it brings it back. I hate that anyone I care about has experience of gas-lighting. I hate that anyone has been gas-lit at all. I hate that there’s even a term for what these people have done to us.
I’m not sorry it all happened because I’m here exactly as I should be. I got out of there eventually and I’m incredibly proud of that – and I know I will never let this happen to me again. So, here’s to ten years of being with someone who knows who I am and loves me anyway.