Writing to you all from London. The number of times I used to visit here was astounding. I spent every other weekend here during my uni years in England. Weirdly enough, I miss the tube. I miss busy sidewalks and shops everywhere. I miss the cobble stone, the wooden pubs, the cathedrals and brick walls everywhere. The breeze. The overcast weather. LA can feel like a burning hell hole sometimes.
It is an odd feeling feeling to be back here. As if I am visiting an old friend, with whom I have not caught up in a while. Even the stench of sweat in the tube brings me back. So much has changed in the last ten years. I was very much in love with my ex husband back then. Every song reminded me of him. We were long distance for about a year and a half, but I fell deeply in love with him in England. Now, ten years later, I realize that it was complete infatuation. I was 18, and he 25. When we moved in together in Norway 2 years after, the bad experiences began. It became a coercive relationship. I was told horrible things often, felt trapped, unloved (in fact hated), used, disrespected, manipulated – coerced. I lost my appreciation of life quickly. I lost confidence. I got diminished, pushed down, stepped on. My family saw my down fall. My friends too. I was not letting anyone help me. Anyone who would try to help I shut down, i.e. would block them. He pushed a lof of that on me too.
I started having flashbacks. I am close to being free from him (minus the spousal support part, evidently). Flashbacks of ways he talked to me, what he said, how he touched me and shook me. Flashbacks of horrible times, where I would cry on the bathroom floor, and wonder if life was worth living at all. The coercion peaked. The pain too. It all led to a major nervous breakdown leading to a major diagnosis – at a time where he had unilaterally decided to open the relationship (one way) just for him. He could see girls, I could see girls. That was it. No talk. “Either you allow this, or I am leaving you.” And that was 30 minutes after I understood that he had cheated on me two years back. Mind you, this was in the St Martin airport, after a 10 day vacation. He was frustrated at my weight back then. Anyways, I disgress.
Somehow, London reminds me of him. Of my love for him. Oh I was so in love. I saw a friend and her parents yesterday, folks that I have known for 21 years. I was telling them about the recent divorce updates. Her father looked at me and said something that will stick with me forever – “you learnt, and that is invaluable.” No shaming, no pity, no anger, no frustration, no shock, no sadness. It was refreshing. I felt seen. He also shared another incredible piece of advice that I will write about another time.
As I am about to exit the tube (next station), I think of this old and new chapter of my life. If anyone out there has coercion stories, please comment – together, we can sharpen our swords and feel less alone.
Women With Swords 