Episode 8 The Monster No Longer Sleeps In My Bed...

Welcome to Episode 8...

My Healing Journey Begins....

I Wish This Was Someone Elses Story.....

I would Love To Hear From You..

Email...sleeplessingranada@yahoo.com

Thank You For Listening..

Transcript

SPEAKER_00: 0:00

Hello and a huge big Scottish welcome. It's another glorious, sunshiny day here in magical Granada. The view from my window is absolutely beautiful and my soul sings. Iced coffee is my drink of choice as I contemplate my day. Feelings of complete joy overwhelm me. I feel so incredibly lucky. It wasn't always this way for me when the monster on steroids roamed my domain. I didn't have the confidence to be myself. I was on high alert at all times. Everything I did and everything I said I was constantly walking on eggshells. I couldn't bear it when he screamed at me or worse when he gave me the horrific silent treatment. We didn't have regular conversations. I wasn't comfortable bringing up issues that were hurtful or problematic to me. When I tried to express myself or speak about things that were bothering me I was always accused of being so fucking emotional. You're such a fucking emotional child he would sneer and scream Nothing was ever resolved. Feelings of anguish, solitude and anxiety washed over me. I was trauma bonded to him. He would intermittently throw me breadcrumbs that I lapped up like a starving dog, only to be cast aside for the slightest misdemeanor. But slowly, slowly, I began giving myself credit. I was kinder to myself. I stopped listening to the lies in my head. It was a slow process, but I was on my way. The hardest part of any journey like this is the getting started. and disgust at how I had let myself down. I wanted to run away, but the woman in the mirror with the piercing green eyes was always there, watching, watching, watching. My burden sometimes was just too heavy to bear. I learned that I must not withdraw and isolate and close myself off. Slowly, I began journaling again, documenting all his abuse. Slowly, I began doing small things for myself. I connected with me again. Slowly, I stopped battling my own darkness and I saw the light. It was bright, bold and inviting. These were all baby steps and sometimes I would step three forward and then five back. I was making progress. So much torment and uncertainty along the way. Slowly, I began to respect and love myself again. And out of nowhere, and for no particular reason, I felt small smarterings of joy bubble up slowly from my soul. I would find myself smiling or humming with my favourite tunes as I went about my business with each day they seemed to gather momentum. I was now courageous, brave, resilient. I deserved it all and I damn well was going to reclaim my power. This is a small piece of writing from Charlotte Freeman and this was sent to me by a really good friend. It's called Gentle Healing. If you have been feeling lost lately and like you don't know who you are anymore, please be patient with yourself while you heal. You will figure it out, but you don't have to figure it out today. You will come home to yourself, but you don't have to come home to yourself today. You will find yourself again, but there's no pressure to find yourself today. Remind yourself that you are strong, even if you don't feel strong right now. Remind yourself that you are loved, even if you don't feel loved right now. Remind yourself that you are worthy, even if you don't feel worthy right now because healing doesn't happen overnight. Healing happens when you're patient with yourself, kind to yourself, accept yourself and take one day at a time. Absolutely love that. And now a chapter from my memoir. I wish this was someone else's story, someone else's pain, yet this is my life now. I'm grieving. I'm fucking sore. It's physical and mental. I was still the fool wrapped up in hope. Bending and breaking. Down, down, down. Into the inky black abyss. What if I could summon up some strength? What if I could? What if? Brave women make history, I tell myself again and again. It's not my job to babysit his fragile ego. I'm done. I'm done. I'm done this time. I'm not doing it again. And so the ramblings in my tortured mind continue. I'm screaming inside, please help me, please, please. I can't take anymore. Some days I felt as if my life was surreal, as if I was watching a movie set. Lights, camera, action. But this was my reality and going through the motions almost broke me on several occasions. The arguments and the belittling remarks have become the norm now. Each day felt like a war. His crushing comments drowned my voice and smashed my sad soul. His harsh words and derogatory remarks rolled so effortlessly off his tongue. Every discussion was a fight waiting to explode. Constantly battle of wills, offensive postures and counterattacks. It was so fucking exhausting. I had to second guess every word, thought and feeling just to dodge the torture of another cutting remark. For fuck's sake, can't you even sweep up properly? You're using that knife wrong. That's not how you cut onions. For fuck's sake, fucking hell. And this was one of his favourites. Oh, I see you're having another tubby bear portion. again. I had told him all my secrets when he was my favourite human and had confided that after my dad was brutally murdered I fell to pieces and had an eating disorder. This was my way of coping and I felt it was the only thing I could control at this time in my life. This was a weapon he often wielded in my direction. It took me years to have a love affair with food again. All the horrible comments, all the hurt and this was just to shatter my confidence. I was deeply disturbed when I realised what once felt like a partnership had transformed into a cycle of criticism and scorn. Each snide comment chipped away at my confidence. I felt so small and insignificant. The relentless barrage of negativity overshadowed the feelings that once flourished. Every argument left me feeling more and more isolated, as though I was fighting not just against the person I cared for, but against the very essence of who I am. I longed for understanding, empathy and validation. His ridicule and disdain were affecting my mental health so badly. I was trapped in a repetitive loop where kindness and respect no longer visit and in their place, hostility thrives. In this prison of constant confusion, violence and unease, I knew I needed to reclaim my voice and set boundaries and demand the responsibility I deserved. It was a daunting task, but it was essential for my well-being. I refused to let this become my reality. I am more than the constraints of belittling remarks and pointless arguments I told the ugly voices in my head. The conflict and confusion in my brain was exhausting. I was determined to rise above it and seek a life filled with peace and understanding. My mind doesn't belong to me now. Tiny maggots infest it now and reside there. I no longer have any fight left. I'm so fragile yet ferocious, weak yet strong, dead but so alive. I was shrinking. It felt good somehow. I was in my quiet comforting soothing cocoon. So quiet, so soft, almost impenetrable and all enveloping. My invisibility grew by the day. Am I losing my mind? Please help me, please help me. I silently screamed to the universe. In the beginning to me Oh my God, he was beautiful like spring flowers, summer rain. Bright autumn leaves and the purest virgin snow. When he was near me, all the stars dimmed and the moon eclipsed. Love, love, it's so blind, they say. In the beginning, our life together. Ha! When I think back, I tried to fix him. I felt honoured to be his safe person and that I got this unique opportunity to help him heal. But soon, soon enough, I realised he would not change. I suggested we go to therapy or read couples self-help books or videos. His response to me was always the same. I don't do all that psycho babble shit. He used to set my soul on fire and brought utter peace and joy and contentment to my life. In my mind's eye, he redefined the empty void within me. When did the love, kindness and tenderness go? I ask myself this often. In retrospect, I was always the sunshine in our relationship, pouring every drop of me into him. In hindsight, he was unassuming. he had no social skills and was actually downright dull I waited and waited in vain for him to gain a modicum of accountability it never came by now my aspirations faded to zero I knew deep down that his abuse would continue forever or until until I somehow found the strength within me to leave when all hope was gone I replaced it with acceptance acceptance is an incredible feeling I began breathing again. Now, now he was like freezing fog on a vast, desolate, toxic wasteland. My presence couldn't keep him. In fact, it drove him further and further away. In the end, I needed to save myself. He dragged me into his darkness, kicking and screaming. Down, down, down. I tumbled into his poisonous pit. His grip on my soul was suffocating. He made me doubt every word, my sanity, my worth, and my reason for being. He would twist my words and turn all my concerns around. The object of his affections needed not answer him back or dare contradict him. I'm not the bad guy here, am I? Am I? Come on! He would sneer at me in that loud booming voice of his. The more he abused me, the more I needed validation from him. I'm losing all sense of control. I'm losing my mind. I started to believe him and the lies and the voice in my head that told me, you're crazy, you must be, you're crazy. Oh God, please help me, help me. Hurt people, hurt people. It was very vulnerable for me to say, Can we start over? Can we try again? I'd done this countless, countless times and suggesting the couple's counselling only to be told there's nothing wrong with me, you childish emotional cunt. You're the nutter, the emotional wreck. Go by yourself, you fucking psychotic... bitch you neurotic emotional piece of shit get the fuck out of my sight and on and on I have more than 70 recordings and videos of this abuse I had to protect myself his emotional mental and physical torture I knew he would twist everything around I needed proof and this was my way of protecting myself I simply got out my phone and pressed record lies dripped like honey from his putrid mouth with every step I took towards him he took two steps In the end, I realised he didn't love me, nor did he even like me. Living this way as one of life's tornadoes was beyond toxic. The aftermath. When you hit rock bottom, the only place left to go is up. I needed to get out of my imagination and become grounded in my reality. No matter how dire, I realised feelings aren't facts. It was a bitter pill to swallow. What was the purpose of being in a relationship when I couldn't even communicate with him? All All humans are flawed, every single one of us, but we don't all terrorise and abuse. My life with him left me dead inside. I had a trauma bond, an addicted brain. I was trapped, mentally exhausted, and so alone. At times he almost broke my spirit. I gave away most of my dignity. I didn't realise at the time, but I had. I felt I was clinging to barbed wire, yet I couldn't let go. My sparkle continued to dim. When I aimed my transparency say and truth at him the reaction was always the same screaming abuse twisting my words and my truth then the stonewalling then the silence silence silence I thought I was such a great judge of character but unbelievably I was duped by him for years he somehow managed to conceal all his depraved characteristics from me but once his masks had slipped he couldn't fix it quite in place again volcanic eruptions ensued I would have Retreat to the place of safety and wait for the fallout. I was isolated from my family and friends. Had I always been this invisible? When pain came knocking at my door, I whispered, do come in. It sat with me for the longest time and wanted to stay. Then one day, quietly, I said, you must go now. You don't live here anymore. As Les Brown quoted, we only change when it hurts too much. We can endure only so much pain. My memoir is a piece of my heart and soul. I continued to grow every day. I embraced each moment As if it were my last, there was a future version of me that I'm longing to hug and welcome home. I had to go through all these phases to complete myself. I now have peace of mind, contentment and happiness again. My journey is not finished. Every day is an adventure and I'm filled to overflowing with gratitude for all that I am. The very essence of me now is joy, compassion, consideration, kindness and patience. I finally learned to love myself. I finally forgave myself for all the wrong choices I made. I even forgave him. I decided to forgive him, not because he deserved it, but because I need to move forward with my life. He failed in his breaking of me. I still have a massive scar in my soul, but it's healing. I'm a warrior and the monster no longer sleeps in my bed, nor does he live in my head. I'm at peace. This in itself is an incredibly powerful thought. I used to play a these tiny scenarios in my mind regularly, where I would be free, when I would face my demons, when I was whole again. I derived such comfort from these imaginings in the depths of my utter despair. I couldn't shake that tiny glimmer of hope. My mind wanders off again, remembering, remembering. I'm sitting here, knees to my chin. arms tightly hugging them i'm rocking back and forth trying to self-soothe trying to stem the hot tears streaming down my face with the rawness of every feeling and the realization that no one was coming to save me the loud silence reverberated around the room it was an ominous dark dark place. I felt total rejection at my core. My poor heart tinged with sorrow. I felt exhausted and alone. I was morphing into an unrecognisable, pathetic, whiny version of my former self. He was trying to erase every morsel of my self-respect and my positivity. I began slipping down, down, down into the blackest, blackest hole. Where was my sanctuary, my safe bubble Had they forsaken me? Or had they become polluted with toxicity? I was no protagonist now. No is a complete sentence. Why didn't he hear me? Was it that my years of constantly saying yes, yes, yes, when silently I screamed no, no. I had to justify everything. each and every action. My voice screamed out in despair. I had to put my fist in my mouth at times, forming a bunch to stifle the sounds. The empty room held no answers for me. I must silence these dark, dark thoughts. My little inner voice spoke harshly. You've survived many storms in your six decades on this earth. You are strong. Claw your way back. Roar! You know you can do it. A plan began to form in my befuddled head. I started documenting everything, recording his torturous abuse. After all, who would believe a stupid, emotional bitch over him, Mr. Intelligentsia? I'm way too unstable, right? My internal struggles continued. Wrong! My monster underestimated me and my inner strength. With help from my family and friends, I began to hatch plan. A friend who had been living in Spain for some 20 years or more told me about the women's groups and the associations that I could go to for help in domestic violence cases. Sadly this fabulous man passed away suddenly in May 2024. At times my heart and sadness overwhelm me. A constant roller coaster of emotions wash over me and the pain I feel is physical and it's excruciating. From the depths of my soul I knew that I had to escape first of all though I needed a plan and I needed a strategy my life behind my huge painted on smile that didn't quite reach my eyes. When I finally lost all emotional attachment to him, suddenly it came to me in a light bulb moment. He was just so very ordinary. He was no longer my hero, my Mr. Wonderful, my Mr. Intelligentsia. Now he was my Prince Charmless. On reflection, it was all the love, kindness and positive energy that I poured over us daily. It was that and that alone that made him so incredible. Our relationship was the most beautiful encounter for me, yet the most painful entanglement. It was on that day my sore heart woke up and smiled. My ice-cold loneliness at once began to thaw. I knew I had to go through all these emotions to start my healing process. Healing meant I was entirely controlling my destiny, my mind, my happiness and my joy. I was very grateful. I welcomed them all back like long lost friends. I knew they were here to stay and my heart began to zing again. i can do this a switch flipped in my battered mind i don't want this existence anymore why do we women mostly disregard our intuition it's a fabulous gift that us humans possess my incredible resilient spirit got me through my dark days and ever darker nights i now knew sadly my relationship was mostly fantasy you see I never really knew my husband. One day I saw the real man and it terrified me. His mask had slipped and he could never return it to exactly as it was before. He no longer existed in my love-struck mind. That was when he gave up the pretense, and the monster that was him now roamed freely. He always gave me mixed signals. I never felt enough. Was I just an afterthought? I certainly felt that way. I was confused when I needed transparency and clarity, understanding, compassion, love, kindness. Sometimes he had me literally on my knees, Weeping, screaming at the injustice of my situation. It's such a leveller when you realise that no one's coming to save you. You need to take back your power and your control. The tiny voice in my head said this to me over and over again. I finally stopped chasing clarity. I stopped chasing after him. It rarely worked. Although every fibre of my being was aching for love and tenderness, I always believed that love was given freely, that it was not something that you had to beg for. When I lost my power, he lost all respect for me. as I did for him. I was the proverbial caged songbird existing in my beautiful gilded cage. My yearnings to be free were all-encompassing. The future version of me that was in my head. Oh gosh, I mourned the old one so badly. I began to heal slowly at first. I didn't even realise it. Once I stopped feeding into the fear of what-ifs, I began investing in my emotional and mental energy. Now that's empowering. I am woman, hear me roar. My mantra that I play every day. The song by Helen Reddy. I could feel a new resolve forming yet again. I began to build my strength yet again. And although I was silent, I was no longer invisible. Awakening slowly from my delicious horizontal cocoon, I slowly opened my eyes, but for now I would hide under my freshly laundered Egyptian cotton sheets to escape his clutches. The inner child in me found this incredibly comforting. It was a waiting game. Would he go out today and I could breathe or would he continue to persecute me? Oh, I wish this was someone else's story. Thank you for I would absolutely love to hear from you. Email me sleeplessingrenada at yahoo.com. Next episode to follow.