Updates

it has been a very, very long time since i’ve posted here. life has been busy, hectic, and life has been safe and kind. two years ago today i moved hemispheres, returning to the land of my birth. reverse culture shock floods the bones from time to time, and in all honesty it’s taken all this time for the heart rate to slow down. if i half close my eyes, i can almost imagine that, like dorothy in the wizard of oz, it had all been a dream.

regarding the stalker, the court case in italy took a very long time, but it passed through last september and he was found guilty on all counts of death threats, revenge porn (ie, taking and distributing images and video without knowledge and consent). but he lives in switzerland, where he boastfully rorts the system and they seem ok protecting slugs like that, usually because if you don’t, you’re called out for being a bad and fascist place.
not much can be done from italy – although I have it on good authority he comes in and out of there willy nilly. the last time I actually heard anything directly from the stalker was in march 2023, just as I was confirming my decision to leave the northern hemisphere and make the huge move to the antipodes. he’d barged on in through instagram, announcements of marriage and child, and apologising for “the inconvenience”.
yes. the inconvenience. what a wank. what a cockholder. what a cockroach, you might say – and, indeed. i made that into a public post including his “stage name” and he pinged off like a flea. haven’t heard a peep since. although, the stats on the usually reveal that he still lurks, slug-like, there in the dark.
we leave it all behind, and we leave karma to do the accounting.

flash forward, to all things joyful: in 2023, after I’d made my decision to come back, i reconnected with a lovely man i have known for a very long time, he has always been a friend, in the periphery. my mum introduced us all the way back in 2006. he knew my story, he’d followed my departure point – and beyond – and in the time since my return, we have travelled, motorbiked, cycled, eaten and drunk our fills…and married and bought a home together.

my experience and much therapy have brought me home to myself in ways i could not have imagined, six years ago asking for help from the bathroom floor while the terror raged on the other side of the locked door. it’s a lot of constant work, still. my husband has been patient, and it hasn’t been easy to live with a headshy horse. but here we are, and life has grown and blossomed in the places inside that i had thought i might never find joy again.

i’ll keep posting the drafts i’ve written and update links and resources on this blog, as it was always personal stories were what I found useful to free me from that hell. and then I let it all go to the past, while I move on forward-facing and in love with life.

how does it make you feel?

some days all the injustices mount up and the situation in reality, including the positivity, the growth, the strides forward, are really fucking difficult to see from the vale. i’ve come a bloody long way. the doubt is part of the healing, i get it, but the big picture gets eroded by the boredom and minutiae of mid winter lack of sun, long stretches without laughter, too much same same and the sense of exisiting rather than living. at these times i find myself slipping backwards into bleak and the heartsick sadness. i don’t feel at all brave or big or that i have come a long way. i feel instead like my wheels are spinning.
this has come about because last night i went out to a new place in town and its inauguration, with my ex husband and his best mate. i’d been cooped up inside without fresh air for ten days while i was recovering from covid. why not head out? but the whole evening felt limp, and i shouldn’t have gone out. people i once called friends were there, the ones who now treat me at best like a ghost and at worst snigger amongst themselves as I pass, all because of my abuse and it’s fallout and their provincial values/ their complete lack of understanding. i shouldn’t care, they’re not particularly kind or good people at the heart of it, but i do. it’s difficult not to. i live in a tiny medieval village, and ostracisation is a very nasty social punishment, a hangover from the Middle Ages, deployed with particular skill by grownass women here. It’s the same tactics the bully girls at high school use in Australia. however, they seem to grow out of it by age 15.

outraged and gagged by this – as it is a futile undertaking to confront someone who has their mind made up and will likely provoke a reaction that is of no benefit – i find journaling it out helps. writing open letters to them, like the one below, is a way up and out of the well of anger, which is what manifests from isolation, loss and the grieving of it all.

to the small minded women in my tiny italian town, who ostracised me right in the thick of a global pandemic, while i was far from anyone i felt i could trust in that moment, as damaged and existentially shaken as i was, right after i’d left my abuser. one of the worst offenders is you. you know who you are, though you’ll never read this. you will salute my ex husband and everyone around me, except me, treating me as though i am invisible. it’s humiliating and noticeable – that’s your intention. people comment. you used to be my friend. a nearly-forty-year-old woman who really should know better. you lost your mother and your father while you were still so young, and for which these tragic events alone i would have thought you’d become someone instilled with the empathy you were shown. you’re a pivotal role model in the village – or your profession and position would assume you to be. instead your treatment shows a cruel side. you are petty, you have no grace and you are without class.

lesson: intelligence does not beget kindness.

i’d like to ask you this: does it make you feel big to make someone feel that they are not worth the simple human kindness of acknowledgement? does it make you feel like a whole and good woman to know that your actions actually add to the pain and ptsd that is already an overflowing laundry hamper in someone who has been abused and living far from her family. does that even enter you anywhere? nothing? no? is your inner world so bleak that you have to actively carry out spite to cause another human being pain? for what am i being punished? because I called you out on a lie? other than that I am someone who has done nothing at all untoward to you, i was someone who considered you a friend. i was abused and i had my life upended because of the terror cause by my abuser. i left, i returned, i left, and you judged me for that. may i remind you that you are in a profession where you have been trained to help women who have been in similar situations. sometimes you will be the frontline contact a woman bereft will seek out. i see your posts advertising the anti violence hotline, the resource websites, the safe houses. I imagine you will have been trained in subjects like love bombing, hoovering, triangulation and isolation tactics. did you skip those classes? these things don’t affect you directly, do they? what if it had been you? i understand that’s a redundant question because the retort would be, “it’d never be me, i’d never let that happen to me.” but what if it had been you? put those shoes on, just for a minute. i’ve also said, more than a few times: i’d never do that, i’d never be that woman who got beaten up, coerced, bullied, sexually assaulted, stalked. i’d never let anyone mistreat me.
but i did, which makes me far more an expert in the field than you could ever be, unfortunately. and it makes me much kinder and more sensitive, also to myself. no, i am not a victim, i take ownership of my life and where certain decisions led me while i was sorely vulnerable. it also has made me not accept any bullshit whatsoever aimed at me. so here i am calling you and your pack of cronies out on cruelty, which, if you had been listening during your training, you would understand colludes with the abuser and his tactics of cruelty.

and how does it make you feel?

the unDisney business of support

without connection, it’s just beige old survival mode with cognitive musings that there must be something wrong with my insides. the trope most often dressed in spiritual garb, that everything we could ever require beyond food, water and shelter is found on the inside of us – strength, resourcefulness, love – is a tired one. it’s not wholly untrue, but i’m a firm believer that the inside for some of us (probably most of us, post-pandemic) needs a kickstart or some sort of regular injection of validation from the external. having worked in the veterinary industry and animal shelters I was sorely aware of death by pining kitten/puppy syndrome: nutritional needs met, but not with a loving connection. they need play, joy, kindness to ignite theirs and then they flourish.
and just look at how well a houseplant will do without some form of external resource other than light and water, in comparison to how that plant thrives under the care of someone with a “green thumb”, who perhaps sings to that plant.
deeply connected, consistent, compassionate external support is key to healing the inside.

in the case of domestic abuse and its fallout, the inner world becomes simultaneously a sanctum of all resources based on retreat and safety, and the source of all relived horror, so the external, and how it presents plays a vital role to feathering the internal to aid in healing. and it’s a precarious balance of trust in which there is no guarantee that it’s safe. that can only be proven with time, consistency and action, which the same can be said for healing the inner world. in my situation, and that of friends who have been through similar experiences, we’ve noticed an overarching theme of people giving up, and the looming sense that sooner or later that was going to happen. and so we do the pushing away when we begin to see the signs of it happening again, and we retreat from the hurtful exterior to the still-raw interior.

i’ve posted ad nauseum that healing takes different forms and takes the time it needs to take, and that it will tend to trigger some folks’ impatience and outright exasperation. this can take the form of advice that is unsolicited, or suggestions from a place of not understanding (due to not having lived the experience), and that kind of “help” doesn’t actually help a person who needs a soft place from an external source to rest the heavy load of their vulnerability. or worse, offer that safe, soft place only to whip it out from under them at the last moment because healing is taking too long. it is shattering, then expected, and up go the walls as they reach a point that they’ll either cut you out of their lives or simply out of the emotional equation because they realise you’re not safe.

an important point to note is this: their trauma isn’t about you and your traumas. it’s not a competition, and a person going through the healing, still raw, does not want to know right now about your relative who died 20 years ago and how that made you feel – not in this moment of crisis, and very much not for comparison’s sake.
if you love and care for someone who has been through abuse and has come out the other side and is going through the shaky pushpull of healing in whatever form that takes, here’s a list of dos and don’ts if you intend on being on hand for someone who is going through the unDisney business of healing:

the very important don’ts when supporting a loved one through their healing:

don’t remind them that hopefully they’ve learnt their lesson.
don’t proclaim to them it’s their karma.
don’t tell them they’re accountable for their actions, their reactions, that it’s their fault or that it takes two to tango
don’t say things like, “you made your bed, you can lie in it.”
don’t promise that you’re a friend, that you’ll be there, and then say that you can’t be involved. love and friendship are verbs. you show those things by doing the actions, not by saying that you’re doing them.
don’t fill silence with platitudes or spiritual reasoning.
don’t get angry at their triggers or try to fix them, and then get angry at them when you realise they can’t be fixed.
don’t ever call them stupid, crazy, or any other names, and don’t compare them to others.
don’t judge them for the fact that they are intelligent and therefore how could they have let themselves be fooled? that’s another example of victim blaming.
don’t remind them of all the things you’ve done for them. believe me, after they’ve come out of their experience of abuse, what you’re doing isn’t going unnoticed. it’s deeply appreciated. sometimes we find trouble with the words to express the graititude adequately. part of our healing is learning how to accept that we are worthy of the basic kindnesses shown to us, that we are all deserving of. to be told “look what i’ve done for you”, then, is like rubbing our noses in it, and we already have had that done to us by our abusers.
don’t give unsolicited advice unless you have had a similar experience, or you are a trauma informed coach or therapist.
don’t invalidate their experience as “not as bad as you’re making out”, or exaggerated, or that the moods are to seek attention or play the victim, or that it’s all in the past, or that there was growth to be had in it.
don’t brush things off as being dramatic. if a person fears for their life, has been shamed with revenge porn, or been threatened in any way, these things are serious psychological damagers. self harm and harm from the perpetrator are two very real directions of threat. if you think your friend or loved one is in danger, or in a very bleak place indeed, please call the police or a doctor.
don’t invalidate any feelings or needs or actions or rituals that make the person feel safe (i still check under my bed, lock the end room, check that windows and shutters have been secured, and that space below the stairwell is empty and the door to it locked).
don’t tell them to forgive their abuser. they know that route and the whys and wherefores, so you don’t need to do nudge that at them; they don’t need to forgive. and if they ever do, it will be done on their terms and in their time.
don’t fear the triggers. don’t judge the triggers. don’t judge the person for having panic attacks. don’t get angry at them for having panic attacks… they really don’t know they’re going to have them, i assure you. sometimes we get good at being able to see the signs that can lead to them – sometimes. but triggers can be set off from hearing a song, a place name, a smell, a raised voice, or how you react to something they say or do. with triggers there can be a few days lead time of anxiety, or they can flash in an instant. remember that they pass.
don’t say, “wow your premenstrual symptoms are bad this month”. just don’t say that ever to a woman, seriously! it belittles her, turns her into a pile of emotions at the whim of only her hormonal chemistry. she’s a thinking, feeling human being that might be triggered, or might actually be pissed off at you for something you said or did.
don’t take the silence or the depression and anxiety personally. it’s not about you.
don’t lose patience. walk out and take a breath of fresh air. in the instance of abuse and violence and the story surrounding it, this isn’t about you. you can’t fix it. your story of how you fixed your trauma doesn’t pertain to their story. your feelings are valid, too, and there will be time to take the limelight. unless asked directly about your experiences, in this moment it’s not about you. right now your loved one needs to be shown love to displace the terror, not hear “yeah, I have trauma too.” seriously, that is not helpful, and they are depleted and they cannot fill your cup, and they’re not expecting you to fill their cup. they just need you to be there.
don’t expect apologies for outbursts borne from triggers and panic attacks. a victim/survivor does not need you to demand an apology for their triggers. they will likely feel like shit after an attack and will likely work through their own inner processes in their own time if and when they feel safe and secure. then they might want to talk to you about the feelings surrounding the outburst. if you badger or are mean and impatient, they won’t feel safe enough to be vulnerable with you. they owe you nothing in terms of the story of abuse. they have every right to feel protected and safe with you and if you cannot provide that then, as previously stated, you need to be honest about that. don’t ever make out that it is their fault and that they’re too difficult to love.

here’s what you can do in the support of your loved one while they are healing:

learn to differentiate triggers from other real moods and pms! triggers lose their effect with therapy and within a place that allows for healing. after a forest fire has died away, look how green the new shoots are when they growth returns. in that moment they need to be tended to, not introduced to fire again.
during a panic attack, remind them that you are there with them. hold them, let them out of the embrace, let them cry, shout, whatever. keep safety in mind – if they want to bolt out the door don’t stand in the doorway, keep them talking, ask them to stay. ask them to wash their face to induce the diving reflex, which is what happens when a mammal submerges its face in the water – heart rate slows and hyperventilation returns to normal breathing. when you’re sure they’re coming down, try again with that hug, and make it last as long as they want it to.
be a soft and sacred place to fall. that means, be consistent. hold the space of trust open so that they realise they can lay their vulnerability at your feet and they know they can let themselves be themselves, without repercussions, shifting sands and consequences. they don’t need you to try to fix that for them. unless asked, they don’t need your opinion or advice on what they tell you. if you feel that you can’t be that in full (we are only human) then help them to find a trauma informed professional who can fill those spaces that require impartiality.
be clear, apologise and take accountability if you don’t understand something, and especially if you lose patience with them.
treat them as sacred beings (anything going through a type of metamorphosis is sacred and vulnerable in its nature) and ask things: ask permission. ask if you can run a bath for them. ask if you can hug them, or give them a massage. ask if they’d like to watch a movie or listen to music or go for a walk. this fosters their agency to make a tiny, easy decision without having to make a full-on big decision. they are little questions that can be answered with yes or no, that make them feel worthy and deserving of the love that is being shown to them.
listen to them. and i mean, really listen, like your life (and theirs) depends on it. listen to how they speak and what they are asking or telling you. you don’t need to do or say anything to fix it, you just need to do the listening.
show up. bring tea and poetry, or the newspaper or a novel, or chocolate, a houseplant. open a window. light incense, a candle. bring things that create brightness and change the energy for the better in the house.
when there is nothing to say, when there are tears, when the fatigue overcomes, when it is bleak: just be there. this, too, shall pass.
lastly, you can’t pour from a leaking cup. consider seeking out a therapist for yourself. you are equally as deserving of support as the person you are supporting. it can be tough to carry the stories you’ve heard and the fallout of the trauma from cruelties inflicted on someone you love. fill your cup first.