I'm A Survivor

I started this blog for we the survivors. Survivors from our families, survivors from our work colleagues and survivors from our partners.

Physical, psychological and emotional abuse can happen to anyone and people can experience less than others or more. No matter to what degree of the abuse you’ve experienced you have suffered, and you have been hurt. Don't suck it up and don't shrug it off. When you are ready to move you will.

The concept of evil is shown to us through the actions of others. Perhaps you held off labeling it as evil because you had conflicting feelings for these people or it was something you once thought of as normal because you hadn’t experienced a healthy relationship.

Abuse from strangers is awful and terrifying but when it comes from those who are your family or those you were supposed to trust then an element of betrayal is added to all those angry confused feelings you have.

In 2016, UK figures showed that 9 out of 10 women died at the hands of someone they knew. It is totally understandable why the pronoun used in most books about abusers is “he.”

For domestic violence 1 in 4 women will suffer it while the number for male victims is 1 in 6. In late 2017, I joined the 1 in 6. Let me tell you some of my story and what I have learned along the way.

I had never experienced violence from my wife of 16 years but I had experienced her rage and resentment. Looking back I made so many excuses for her. 'She's feeling ill' or 'she's stressed out about this or that' she'll stop being so mean and angry when we get somethings sorted out.

Waiting for life to happen rather than living life. I had never been stabbed before either. One night out of the blue I woke up to being stabbed and went on to get a total of nine wounds. It was close but for some reason I lived which I am very grateful for.

There was no bright light as shock took a hold of me. There was me standing in darkness with just light on my face as I felt the outer parts of my brain switching off, getting closer to me. I knew when they reached me I'd be dead. No fear, no feelings what soever.

Then I heard the words, "sit up!" It was the police officer who was doing first aid on me. Instinctively I sat up and the outer world with its lights, sounds, pain and blood everywhere came flooding back, I was still alive.

After 21 stitches I borrowed some hospital clothes and in the dead of winter sat on my front step waiting for the police to arrive with a locksmith so I could get inside my house and clean up my own
blood.

While my physical wounds healed as best they could the psychological wounds continue but I'm getting stronger. As like many of you, I am a survivor.