It was late 1989 , after I had graduated with an unexpected degree and back home , wondering what on Earth I was going to do for a career. I had found a little job in Glasgow working in a "dry house" for homeless alcoholics. However that did not start for a month. My girlfriend of 7 years was back at university and I found myself at a bit of a loss. I heard folk talk of "post graduation" blues and I started to experience something quite close to that. Pretty much alone really. On my usual venture around town , I had passed this woman who seemed to be always staring. She had a great figure and I suppose I was attracted to her in some way. I left it as just "thoughts" for a week or two until I saw an old school friend who just happened to be this woman's sister. We talked and she pointed out that "Blight" (I will use this appropriate name) fancied me. That was like poo to a lonely bluebottle. This was the point that common sense and consideration for my then girlfiend had left me. I can only describe myself at the time as a "damned stupid selfish bugger" . I justified my actions by the fact that I didn't know what my present girlfriend was doing whilst away.
Blight was quite a seductress. I was was the muts nuts to her , or so it seemed. At the back of my mind though, was the a sensing that all was not quite what it seemed with Blight. I closed my nostrils to the fact that she stunk and never seemed to change her clothes. I closed my mind to her constant clinginess. By the time I got to find out that she was married with 3 kids, I was strangely hooked. Going to Glasgow and inviting Blight and kids to join me was the plan. I felt that somehow they needed rescuing from a bad situation having fell for Blight's story of how abusive her husband was. Yes I went to Glasgow and we wrote, however, against advice from folk there , I left the job after a fortnight. I couldn't wait to get back somehow and the train couldn't get home quick enough as far as I was concerned When it did arrive at the station , I ran to Blight's sister's as fast as I could. I was driven by something that didn't engage thought nor consideration -what was happening!?
Blight and I had stayed at her sister's whilst she was in the process of getting "him" out of the house. The kids were introduced to a rather awkward me. I was worried somehow. The kids seemed to be wearing clothes only fit for the bin. The colours were brown and dark blue- "always". I mentioned this to Blight and she told me that is what her husband insists on. For some reason I believed it. Even more bizarre, when Blight's poor husband had left the house, I was to find out that every internal wall was painted dark brown and dark blue also. The poor kids squinted as they went outdoors in the sunlight. However I was going to change things for all of them - step in SuperStu!! The abuse perhaps started at that point , I would say. Well it was certainly abuse to my sense of "normailty" and hygeine at the time.
It was not long before Blight had started to question my every movement. A 50 yard walk to the paper shop was turned into a very quick quickie with the woman behind the counter . Each little trip outside was met with a thousand questions and attacks. The abuse was not so much physical but emotional and mental at that time. An interview for Masters Course I went for became a joint effort as Blight insisted on coming with me for "support". I strangely allowed this!! As part of the interview, we were meant to mix with the other candidates. I felt uncomfortable talking to anybody because I had experienced Blight having a go at me in the supermarket when she thought I was looking at a woman, when in actuality, the poor woman (who also got a gobfull) had just walked past where my eyes were pointing. I muddled through the interview but was met with attacks on the way home.
The abuse continued with me still trying to "put things right" for all of them - decorating, getting the kids washed and cleaned and helping them with their schoolwork - that sort of thing. As all this was happening, my past started to somehow be stripped way from me. First my souvenir university mug was smashed on the floor and my graduation picture torn to shreds during one of Blight's rages. The worst thing though was Blight prohibiting the use of the word "carol" in any context whatsoever. The poor woman I left to go with Blight was called Carole and that was the reason behind Blight's attitude. The kids had to say they were going "song singing" at Christmas or risk getting hit. Everytime a person on TV said the word "Carol" , "I" was met with loud tuts and glares enough to kill. She watched my every response ready to pounce. Within 6 months I became a nervous wreck. I was also coming to be seen as the "bad guy" in the eyes of the kids as I was "forcing them" to wash, eat healthy and do homework. Blight to her credit would back me up on this but then , to her discredit, would use me and my good intentions as a threat on the kids . The poor kids deserved NONE OF IT!
My normality was increasingly disappearing and depression was setting in. Going to the supermarket and being met by attack and tins and money being thrown at me was becoming a regular occurence. I found myself rushing back from the shops or back home from my course and any other place I was "allowed" to visit just to keep the peace. Nine times out of ten I still failed to convince Blight that there was nothing happening. By that time I had put on 3 stone and my dress sense had deteriorted to a point that Steptoe would have seen me as a scruff and kept a wide berth , let alone any self respecting woman. Stu was getting well and truly lost and I started to sense it.
It is quite amazing how we still try to find a way of preserving ourselves in such times. I had started to run a bit, very early in the morning because I looked a sight and at 6am it was hard for Blight to accuse me of infidelity so easily. However, it wasn't long though, that Blight, showed an interest in running too. She was surprisingly a talented runner coverring 10k in 40 minutes. I stepped in as "trainer" in the hope that it may help her with her obvious mental health issues (she had a lot it seemed). However, even the running became part of her abusive arsenal . She would prepare for a race, get me involved and excited that she would finish high up and even win it and then if she "thought" I'd looked at someone, she would just drop out at the drop of a hat leaving me disappointed.
Nothing could be mine and mine alone, not even memories. I started to show the signs of trauma. I was not going out and reluctant to talk to family and old friends. I did shout back and leave on occasions, however, the "outside world" seemed like a stranger and I felt that I could not cope so went back (time and time again). The welcome on my return was always warm for a day or so but this wore out to more of the same. Of course I was feeling angry but if I shouted or screamed, Blight would start punching herself in the face saying "go on then hit me" . I didn't hit her apart from once when I slapped her and walked out. I am not proud of that but I would defy The Archbishop of Canterbury not to do so given the level of abuse I was taking. Furthermore, after punching herself, Blight insisted on going out to "parade" the self inflicted bruises dropping "hints" that "I" had been the culprit . What on Earth can a bloke do then? What would folk think of me ? Try to tell them that she did it to herself!!! How can I show my face when folk could believe I had bruised her's? My mental health was deteriorating. Blight "urged" me to go and see a psychiatrist and a social worker as the problem was somehow with me (as always). I went to see both as "ordered". I actually started believing that I was the problem too. The social worker was a good listener when I opened up but he never affirmed anything I said about leaving for good and my God, I needed that affirmation. Seeing the psychiatrist seemed like being back to "square one" again after previously battling with my mental health 12 years before as an illiterate homeless down and out. The new Stu I had built up prior to meeting Blight had been well and truly demolished.
There was never a break from Blight's rages and jealousy in 7 years. I ended up on the dole but Blight was claiming so I had no money in my own right. I was "forced" into an "executive jobclub" because of my qualifications but knew I was wasting mine and their time. I did do a Master's degree during the 7 years but not in a subject that was me and it was not worth the abuse. I used to travel there in a shell suit (the lecturer stereotyped me early on as a result) which was something that was not me at all. I graduated because of my writing and not presentation as speaking publically was a big no no due to a developing social anxiety. I did get a job but was constantly quizzed and started to think that me supporting the household was like paying to be tortured. Had problems with lots of jobs since then.
What had walked into this nightmare was a reasonably confident graduate with a good degree and a lot to offer. What walked out was an anxiety ridden wreck who had developed paranoia himself and no sense of where and what to do in the future. I had grown attacthed to the three kids and they were hard to leave behind believe me. When I finally left for good and after a massive flood of tears (mainly of relief), I knew I was in for a hell of a repair job. The memories I took with me were just 7 years old and bad. I had lost track of my life before. Flashbacks were playing manically and mechanically in my head at any time they chose to. I was getting belatedly aggressive too. I had "lost" 7 years good years of life and discovered that us men can be subject to the most horrendous domestic abuse from which nobody says "good on you" if you fight back nor "thankyou" for at least trying to help and support people you developed attatchment to. Old family and friends were strangers. You were a stranger to yourself, in fact. In spite of how I was left after the experience, I was soon in another relationship. The thing was I took what was later to be named "blighty shit" with me , making the first year very difficult for my then partner ( now wife). The work I had to put into save the relationship and myself was massive. I was now the paranoid partner and in danger of becoming the abuser too. The thing is with domestic abuse is that it can be contagious. I know Blight had her story but frankly today I don't want to make excuses for her. I have learned that if you start allowing your personhood to be stripped from you, it is time to get out however fearful it may be. Speak out , especially you fellas out there. Hopefully this blog makes it clear that you are not alone although you may feel it. I had the "macho" messages and the "shoulds" echoing in my mind throughout. I tried to do the superman thing and save Blight and the poor kids as I was simultaeneously being abused and ripped apart from the inside out. Yes as with many abusers , Blight could turn on the charm and place you on a very high almost godlike pedestal before later kicking it from under you and trampling you and it into the ground. However hard it is, do not allow yourself to be blighted by such abuse whatever your gender.
