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A new stat shows that a staggering 37% of women have suffered domestic abuse. New laws being drawn up looking making emotional abuse a criminal offence. It can’t come quickly enough says Katie*, 27, who endured daily verbal attacks from her boyfriend…
As told to Eimear O'Hagan
Walking from the Tube station to our flat, my boyfriend Paul* raged at me, his face contorted with anger. ‘Why can’t you keep your mouth shut instead of embarrassing me in front of my friends?’ he shouted, fists clenched. ‘Look at you - you're ugly and stupid. No-one’s interested in what you have to say.’
I kept my head down, fighting back the tears as I desperately tried to tune out his furious tirade… just as I’d done so many times before. There was no point arguing back as I hadn’t done anything wrong. Instead, I just took each comment like a verbal slap to the face. For, while Paul never hit me, the emotional abuse I had to endure was devastating.
Last month, it was announced ministers are reviewing the issue of domestic abuse and are looking at introducing a new criminal offence to cover emotional abuse in relationships. Meanwhile, Labour has appointed their first shadow anti domestic violence minister who has also spoken out about the issue. Last week, Seema Malhotra said husbands who constantly criticise their wives over their weight or appearance may be guilty of domestic abuse.
I couldn’t agree more…
I met Paul in January 2010. Five years older, he was handsome and was doing well in his career in the City. On our second date he said he loved me, while our third date was a surprise trip to Paris. I was just 23, and even though I'd casually dated at university he was my first serious boyfriend. All my friends were starting to settle down and I couldn’t believe I’d got so lucky with a man who seemed totally besotted by me. I was just as consumed by him as he seemed to be by me.
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But, slowly, things changed. At first, Paul was just grumpy, snappy and critical - I'd talked to in the middle of a programme, or hadn't cooked a meal the way he liked it. At first, I'd confront him, he'd apologise...and I'd put it down to him being stressed at work. But having no long term relationship to compare it to, I worried I was over reacting and pushed my concerns to one side.
One night, about three months into our relationship, I was twenty minutes late meeting him at a restaurant. Paul was livid and screamed at me in front of the other diners and stormed out. I was mortified and went home in tears, bewildered at how someone who claimed to love me could humiliate me like that. Deep down I knew it hadn’t been my fault, but I didn’t want to throw away our relationship over a silly row. So, in what would quickly become the norm, I ended up apologising.
It took three days but he grudgingly accepted, and I was so relieved he was talking to me again. Looking back I can’t believe how quickly we slipped into our new 'roles' - him criticising me and me trying to constantly pacify him. I’m a teacher and by day I was successfully managing a classroom of rowdy teenagers at an inner-city school but, come the evening, I was treading on egg shells trying keep him happy.
I cooked his favourite food, bit my tongue when he said I needed to lose some weight and pretended to agree with his opinions even when I didn't because I couldn't face how he'd mock me for being stupid. It's hard to explain, but my confidence was being slowly chipped at and he warped my idea of what was normal. When I got my hair cut into a short bob, he told me I looked butch. When I wore an outfit he didn't like he threw out half my wardrobe and made me buy clothes approved of. It was relentless and it wore me down, until I believed every word he said. I didn’t for a moment think I was a victim of abuse, if I ever got upset 'I was being 'oversensitive' and he'd just say that he was helping me to be the best I could be because he loved me.
When he said we should move in together after six months, I even thought it would make things better - that maybe we'd understand each more. Not surprisingly, things got worse.
In bed, he insisted I sleep facing him and if I rolled over in my sleep he’d jab me in the back and demand I turn round. He went through my phone, checking all my texts. He said an ex-girlfriend had cheated on him so I should understand why he needed to know who I was talking to. I started to flinch when I heard him come in at night because I never knew when an onslaught would begin.
So why didn’t I leave him? Because some weeks he was the kind and lovely guy I’d intially fallen for. He sent flowers to my work and surprised me with a mini break to a spa hotel when I was exhausted from a school inspection. On our very occassional nights out with my friends he was attentive, making sure my drink was always filled, cuddling me affectionately and boasting about how lucky he was to have me. I was too embarrased to tell them the truth.
It was like dating Jekyll and Hyde, but I honestly thought I loved the 'nice' Paul so much I kept forgiving his darker side.
Until, that is, about a year into our relationship when I said I'd been invited on a hen weekend. He flipped, smashing his glass against the wall and screaming that I was going to cheat on him. Watching the red wine dripping onto the carpet, I was terrified. He'd completely lost control.
The only way I could get him to calm down was to promise I wouldn't go. From that moment his physical rages increased. He’d punch walls in his rages and was often rough with me during sex. I honestly began to get scared about what he would do next.
Then, about four months later, he announced he wanted to have a GPS tracker fitted to my phone so he always knew where I was. My blood ran cold. I knew I had to get out.
I finally broke down with my sister Susan*. Telling her what was happening, I felt so ashamed, and she was horrified as she had never suspected a thing. Susan convinced me to see a therapist, who taught me about emotional abuse. I’d never heard of it but she made me realise the effect it could have on a woman could be devastating. Suddenly I could see how my confidence had been crushed, how this relationship was in fact abusive. When he criticised my weight or looks, it was part of a bigger pattern of control which had left me emotionaly shattered and in danger of becoming completely isolated from my family and friends. I understood that this sort of relationship was never going to get better and my therapist explained this kind of emotional terrorism could often could escalate to physical violence.
It took more than a month of therapy before I felt strong enough to walk away. With Susan's help I cleared my stuff out of his flat while he was at work. I was lucky that I could stay with my sister as I know a lot of women don't have anywhere to go.
For weeks afterwards I had nightmares he was after me. He left messages calling me pathetic and, it sounds dramatic, but I was really scared. I needed to get away so I left my job and moved out of London. I didn’t want to always be looking over my shoulder, frightened of bumping into him. I blocked him on Facebook and asked my friends to do the same so he couldn’t track me down. Thankfully, after his initial outbursts, I never heard from him again. Part of me suspects he was too arrogant to come after me... although I worry he turned his attention to some other poor woman.
When someone hits you, you know you’re being abused. But emotional violence is much more subtle and easier to keep hidden behind closed doors. I just hope a change in law means other women will realise they are being abused and get out… while they still can.
For help, contact www.womensaid.org.uk