That was the night I met him. Him. The man I thought was so wonderful, caring, protective, and kind. The man who was indeed all those things, unless I broke his unspoken ever-changing rules. He wanted to see me again the day after the party. I remember so clearly the butterfly feelings in my stomach, the feelings of anticipation, as I got ready. This was like a fairy tale come true. Someone wanted to know me, simply for me—or so I thought.
“Things must have been good at the start,” Mani quietly interjected.
“Oh yes, I was blown away by his good looks, consideration, confidence, his sense of ease—and the sports car and house helped too.” A wry smile crossed my face.
As I look back, there were some warning signs, right from the beginning. I didn’t want to recognize them; the desire to be wanted and liked by someone was very strong. My opinions didn’t get a look in; we did what he wanted to do. The relationship was out of bounds for discussion. I pushed the few niggles to the back of my mind—no one gets on with other people all the time do they? I was completely sold on his popularity and his “wonderful” childhood and family.
“You got married? And had a family?” Mani pushes the conversation gently along.
“Oh, yes. All that. Actually, I have four children. Having the children and being around them was a really good time in my life. Something I could focus on. It stopped me having to face the truth of my relationship. Over the years, I found myself having to live more and more in his bubble. It was all so subtle I really didn’t notice it. It was all done with a smile, charm and in such a way no one else believed me when I suggested I might be having problems. “You make such a lovely family,” I heard many times. “It’s great he wants to be out with you and the family so much … how wonderful he comes up to the house every day for lunch.”
“A lot of people don’t want to know what goes on behind closed doors,” says Mani.
“Over the years, only entertaining his friends, rarely going out on my own, and having erratic help with raising the children I found myself becoming more reclusive, less confident, emotionally and physically exhausted. I tried so many times to talk. That really was the biggest Rule Break. If he wanted to know anything about me, I would be questioned. The idea of offering him information about myself was definitely a no-no.”
Mani, seeing I’m struggling with an internal battle encourages me, asks, “So what was the changing point for you?”
“I needed to find a way to tell him things were bothering me. I didn’t like being allowed to go shopping and study and then being expected to have sex; I didn’t like cooking for all his friends virtually every day of the Christmas break, I didn’t like having to be happy all the time, so he was happy, so the business would do well …”
“Sounds like things were getting pretty bleak by that time,” Mani stopped me. She could see I was close to tears.
“Yes … I broke a cardinal rule without realizing it. I told him I was unhappy and wanted to discuss things.”
“That was the start of me noticing what was going on. He refused to talk, refused to acknowledge I was unhappy—completely blanked the notion for six months. I became stressed, I didn’t know how to make this better; started convincing myself my unhappiness was all my fault … when, as if he could read my mind told me it was all my problem.”
As I talk, I can feel the energy draining out of me. The futility of spending the next six years visiting counselor after counselor in my quest to resolve my problem re consumes me. At the sessions, time and again, I was told he was the problem. He had told me it was all my problem, and the odd time I tried to discuss my sessions he continued to tell me they were all wrong. It was me, not him.
