Yesterday, after I wrote the blog about my Dad, I struggled. I really struggled. When you have been conditioned by an abuser to believe terrible things about yourself it’s not simply a case of stopping believing those things. You can no more just stop believing them than could just stop eating food to live or breathing oxygen.
You have to re condition yourself and that takes time, a lot of time, effort and support. It would be great if abuse was just like a jacket that you could take off and hang up somewhere but it’s not. It’s the skin you have to wear every day.
I’m lucky. I know I’m lucky. I have a great big brother who is there for me everyday. I have a wonderful step father who has been the father to me that I never thought I’d have. My kids are amazing and my friends are inspiring, thoughtful, loving and loyal.
My husband gets the worst deal of all. My husband is my best mate but he doesn’t just get the good days and the positive Clair. My husband lives with happy, positive Clair but he also lives with desperately sad, depressed Clair. My husband has to go over the same conversations and problems time and time again, but not because he’s doing anything wrong. My husband has, like the government, inherited the problems of the people who were previously in charge.
I go around in circles and tie myself in knots of uncertainty, fear and insecurity constantly, exhaustingly, digging for problems and seeking reassurance. Upsetting for me, frustrating for him. He keeps reminding me it’s not my fault.
Like most people I’m a mixed bag. Good and bad. Hopefully the good outweighs the bad and deep down I know my husband values me and appreciates me for everything that I am and everything that my past has made me. Hopefully. I just need to do it myself too.