Domestic abuse

I feel scared all the time I honestly question my own mind I think I’m constantly in a state of delusion. I can’t even speak because I don’t even know where to begin on what’s been happening to me every day for the past 2 years. I feel broken I can’t think properly I have brain fog. He’s relentless he dosent stop, it dosent matter how much you beg and plead with him to just stop and leave you alone he dosent care, he’ll do it more and he’ll do it worse. What kind of life is this? Hiding in my own home, keeping the curtains closed and doors locked religiously. Need to let the dog out? Lock the door as fast as you can because he runs up on you out of no where. I never feel safe. I never feel loved. Why does he claim to love me and treat me this way? What example am I setting to my son. I either allow the abuse in the home or I lock him out and ignore him but that makes him even more angry and aggressive so what’s the right thing to do? Because I seriously don’t know anymore. All I know is my son can not witness this anymore. I’m his mum and I should protect him from this. How good can a mum be really when she’s constantly scared and exhausted. I feel like I could sleep for days. I don’t want to get up in the mornings. I dream of the life I want with me and my son, together in peace. The reality is what if I’m not strong enough to get me to that place. What if I’ve already caused my boy too much unrepairable damage. I need to be strong enough because trying to sleep in this house is unbearable. Scared by every little noise or sound. The banging on the door, the shouting outside the house then the times he broke in, bursting through my bedroom door at 3am. I’m a shell of the woman I was before, a empty shell. This house is not mine. Iam not mine. I don’t own anything not even my own mind. It’s all his, he wants it all. This is the most I’ve ever put into words about my life the past few years and it feels like a breakthrough to me. Although I’ll never be able to include all the things this man has done to me, even covering a fraction of those has helped me. I heard emotional abuse is worse than violent abuse, I can say with all my heart that is true. Those invisible scars of words and manipulation hurt more than any hit or slap. Everytime he laid hands on me I was as shocked as the first time. The pure disbelief that someone could do this to me, someone you loved and who was supposed to love you. That’s what hurt the most. I don’t go a day without flashbacks, the most intrusive memory’s I just didn’t want to ever remember. I can still feel him spit in my face. I flinch and screw my face up when I think of it, the disgust and the total degradation. It made me feel like dirt. The cold drinks being poured over my head, the shock to the system whilst it first hit your skin. Your hair dripping wet, your makeup running, your clothes drenched as you stood there shaking. It would often be followed by a kick to the floor where you find yourself sliding around the floor trying to cover your face in pure terror. I felt like a animal. The time he hit me so hard I lost my hearing. I remember that so well. The force of the blow knocked me to the floor, I raised my hand to my ear - the loss of hearing was instant. My ear drum was burst. It will need surgery to repair. There was also another time that will stick with me forever. I find myself lost in a numb daydream thinking about when he attacked me the worst. Dragged me down the stairs by my hair whilst I screamed for him to stop, my head was just hitting every bump, he carried on dragging me round my living room floor by my head so fast it gave me the worst burns I’ve ever had all over my knees. I begged him to stop, I pleaded with him. He put his foot on my head and pressed down telling me how much he wanted to kill me. When I could, I ran to my neighbours houses - no one would answer. I was running down my street bare foot, ripped clothes and my hair matted distraught. This was a normal week to me. If the police came he never did anything, and it was always my fault they came. “If you hadn’t done this or said that I wouldn’t of had to do that to you” it was a constant cycle I never thought I would break. I felt like a robot in the end . Stay off my phone, give phone to him, can’t wear make up, can’t go out, the list he wanted was endless. One day I hope that feeling of absolute fear of hearing the bed squeak in the morning, the foot steps on the landing, I wanted the floor to swallow me up. The constant insults about my appearance, my mental health, my family and worst of all my son. Iam kicked everyday when I’m down. How do I pull myself out of this whole when it feels like he is dragging me back down, all while laughing in my face at the fact I’ll never become anything. One things for sure, I’ll never be able to recover from this, absolute mental torture. I’ve lost faith in men. I close my eyes and picture that face he makes before he’s about to attack me. How do I forget it? How do I stop the flashbacks of having things thrown at me, being strangled? The physical marks go yes but the physical ones stay with you forever. I’ve given up, what’s the point. I constantly have to go without clothes, makeup, toiletries because he takes them off me, all the clothes he’s cut up, all the things he’s broken and not replaced laughing at my financial situation whilst making it 10x worse. What kind of person does that? Someone who claims to love you… imagine what someone could do if they didn’t love you that’s what I fear. The frustration from people who don’t understand why I don’t leave. If only I could not tell you, but show you the reasons why, you would understand. Imagine having someone kick your door off after you change the locks, leave you to pay the damage. Someone who climbs through a top open window using a ladder. Someone who sits in your car and garage all night long while you sleep when you don’t want to let them in. Just praying there still not there in the morning when you need to take your son to school. I go to bed terrified, trying to ignore the hundreds of missed calls and texts, the knocking the banging and the shouting through the letter box. How does someone live like this? Because I feel half dead. Everything is my fault. I deserve all of this that’s what he says. I feel brainwashed like a zombie just trying to trudge through the day. I plan and hope to move away, why do I feel this overwhelming guilt towards him? I never wanted things to end this way I just wanted him to stop. Why did he have to carry on doing this to me to the point where I can’t take it anymore. I don’t know how to feel.