Intimacy After an Abusive Relationship

I was worried that I wouldn't be able to be physically intimate with another man after my abusive relationship.  I was just sure that if my new boyfriend even TOUCHED me that I'd be triggered and have a panic attack.  But he's been very patient, gentle, and respectful, and things are going great.

I think the key to successful physical intimacy after an abusive relationship is openness, honestly, and respect.  If you inform your partner about your potential triggers and explain to them how these types of things make you feel, then he or she can be careful to avoid those types of activities. 

I'm thankful that my new boyfriend has been patient with me and has allowed me to control the level of physical intimacy.  I highly suggest that anyone who's starting a new relationship with someone after a previously abusive relationship make it a high priority to seek out someone who has a great deal of patience and respect.  Those two things are key. 

Red flags that a new partner may exhibit that would warn you to get out of the relationship:

• Wanting to be with you constantly and not allowing you to have any "alone" time.
• Wanting to know where you are and what you are doing at all times (i.e. texting and calling you constantly to check up on you). 
• Having strange fetishes or odd sexual demands (i.e. wanting a threesome or insisting that you role play in a way that makes you uncomfortable)
• Constantly comparing you to prior partners and/or constantly talking about prior relationships.
• Pressuring you to become more intimate than you want to be, sooner than you want to, or more often than you want to
• Moving the relationship along too quickly (i.e. seriously discussing marriage too soon, etc)
• Being jealous of other friends that you may have
• Asking you lots of questions about your past but not being willing to talk about his/her past
• Being obsessed with his/her appearance and/or your appearance

There are others, of course, but those are a few warning signs to look for.  Luckily, so far, my new boyfriend has been very respectful of the boundaries I've set up and hasn't pressured me to do anything that I'm uncomfortable with.  Am I in love?  It's too early to tell, but I'm definitely leaning in that direction!

Be Mine (collage - adult content)

Bits and pieces from flashbacks from one particular Valentine's Day when I was beaten with a coat hanger
and otherwise brutalized in various ways that I won't get into right now.  My ex-abuser was upset because he had
bought me sexy red lingerie and I had my period and had therefore "ruined" Valentine's Day for him. His use of force and punishment was his way of proving that he had total control over me, that I was, in all ways, shapes, and forms, HIS!

Drunk Driver (poem)

Lured by floating bubbles of flirtation,
Enamored with the thought of being loved,
Stunned by his silky, smooth incantation,
I lost track of any rules that I might have thought of.
I was under age, but he served me just the same.
He didn't care that I was but a child.
He left my heart a tattered mess,
And my mind a circus, running wild.

Another bar, this one deep underground.
Where only the "privileged" were allowed.
They served me there,
Both day or night,
Sometimes there was quite a crowd.
The bartenders came
One after another,
Serving me more quickly
Than I could recover.
I left that bar determined
Never to try to leave the road again
I did my best to steer clear
Of all the stinking, drinking men. 

But then came a man I couldn't resist.
His words were so smooth,
And how sweet was his kiss.
"Drink with me," he implored.
My attempts to say no
Were always ignored.
He poured me one glass after another,
Til I was too drunk to stand.
His words cut through me like a knife,
(I wondered, "why am I his wife?")
He smothered me
Until I couldn't breathe,
Until I couldn't see,
And yet I couldn't leave.

Just when I would start to sober up,
He'd pour another soul piercing drink,
Until I couldn't function any more,
Let alone try to think.
So I learned to drive the road of life,
Though sloshed by the pain he served up.
I kept it between the lines as best I could,
But, oh, how I longed to just give up.
But alas, I could not,
For I had children in the back seat
Depending on me
For love, for direction, for comfort, for meat.
Soon I was reduced
To talking to myself,
For he forbid me to speak
With anyone else.

Simple chants in the back of my mind,
(Where I hid from his ranting most of the time).
I hung on for dear life
To my sanity,
And repeated the simple rules
That life had taught me:
"Red means stop.
Green means go.
Don't go too fast.
Don't go too slow.
Don't leave the road,
Don't be too early.
Don't be too late.
Keep it between the lines.
Hold the wheel straight."

I got pulled over and detained a few times
By those who saw the warning signs --
Like my vehicle swerving back and forth
Or driving right off the road at times. 
"Have you had anything to drink, young lady?"
"Only pain," I said, as though they'd understand.
Hoping that somehow maybe
They were different than every other man.
I would eventually jump through their hoops --
I would touch my own nose
And walk a straight line,
And somehow convince them that I was "just fine."
They'd smile at me,
Pat themselves on the back,
And let me go back for more --
With the lamest of warnings
To drive a bit slower.

As if I could control the speed at which life raced by,
As if I could predict when I'd break down and cry. 
"Just keep it between the lines," I would think,
And please, Lord, let there be no more
That I am forced to drink."

You see, I never chose to put the cup to my lips.
I never wanted a single one of those evil sips.
Now here I am, still sloshed from the shame,
Wondering how to play this confusing game.
Some make it seem so simple,
But to me it's a mystery
How some can walk through life unscathed,
While others end up scarred like me.

Just keep on driving, I tell myself,
Just follow the road and see where it goes.
But at the rate I'm going,
My destination is one that nobody knows.

I often veer from one side to the other,
Trying to find my way.
I hit the curbs, I cross the lines,
And I run a stop sign almost every day.
I try to go when I see green,
I try to stop when I see red.
I try to follow the rules of the road,
But inside I feel like I'm already dead.
Just a dummy behind the wheel,
A crash test dummy --
That's how I feel.

I want to believe there's a higher power
That will guide me along this road,
But day by day and hour by hour,
It seems I carry a heavier load.

What would they say if they could see inside?
There's no way to count the tears I've cried.  
How many years was I Frankensteins's bride?
In the end, does it even matter how hard I tried?

I don't know how much longer
I can hold the steering wheel steady,
How long it will be til I'm stronger,
How long it will be til I'm ready
To face the pain that's intoxicated me,
To sober up,
To finally be free.

I want my life back, and my sanity too.
I don't want to be a zombie
Merely stumbling my way through.
Still I sense that it's apparent to all
When they see me stumbling around
That I must have stayed through last call,
That I'm five minutes from collapsing on the ground.

I watch as other vehicles pass me by,
As I struggle along in the slow lane.
I try not to crash as I break down and cry,
And pray that I don't go totally insane.

Sometimes it seems nobody really even cares
That I'm a multiple trauma survivor.
They look at me and all that they see
Is just another drunk driver.








 

A Journey Just Begun (sonnet)

Eenie, meenie, miney, mo -- just pick one.
The good, the bad, the ugly; all are there.
Nobody said this process would be fun,
But without pain, I won't get anywhere.
Don't want therapy to be my career.
I will do the work that needs to be done,
Break the bonds of trauma that hold me here,
Won't hide from anything or anyone.
Life is too short to live in yesterday,
Far too precious to wallow in sorrow.
No matter what, I'll try to find a way
To always keep focused on tomorrow.
This journey may be one I've just begun,
But I will not give up until I'm done.

I Can't Believe I Let Him in Again (sonnet)

I can't believe I let him in again.
I thought I'd built the walls up high enough.
I haven't felt this bad since God knows when.
Simply hearing his voice, his touch, and stuff.
I only wanted to be with my kids,
To make the day special for them somehow.
I never dreamed I'd be feeling like this,
The nightmares have started all over now.
Just when I think I've fin'lly broken free,
He finds a way to get under my skin.
Why do I let what he says bother me?
Why do I even let his words get in?
God, help me shut out all these memories.
I'm asking you, begging you, won't you please?

Freeflow Journaling Through a Flashback or Body Memory

I've found that sometimes there's no escaping from the grip of an intense memory (especially if it's sensory-related). Although deep breathing, progressive muscle relaxation, and meditation help a little bit sometimes, I've discovered that in some cases there's nothing I can do except "hold on for the ride."

One tool that I've found useful is what I call "freeflow journalling." I've heard others refer to it as "freewriting." Basically whatever thoughts, sensations, words, images, etc come to mind, I write it down -- without worrying about using proper punctuation & grammar (or even whether or not it "makes sense," for that matter).

There are several reasons I've found this helpful:

1) It gives me something to do while I "ride out" the traumatic memory.
2) It helps me sort through what happened afterward so that I can process it.
3) It sometimes lessens the severity of the physical aspect(s) of a flashback (maybe because my hands are "occupied").
Here's an example of a "freeform" journal entry that I wrote about a year ago when I was triggered by simply hearing someone say the phrase "Just take it all." (Note: I added some punctuation to make it SOMEWHAT easier to read.)

-----------------------------------

Just take it. Take it all. Stop your fucking complaining. Can't. No room. Stop. When will he come? Please God, No MORE! Arms over my head. Tight. Wrists. Pillow. Face. No air. Can't breathe. My duty. For my children. I can do this. I CAN'T do this. Lord, give me strength. Help me Jesus. Help me. Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me. Burning. Enough. Searing. Too much. Go away. Arms numb. Make it STOP. So dizzy. Gonna throw up. So gross. Gagging. Salty. Over me. In me. Dribbling on me. Musky smell of him. Smothering me. Holding me. Fading. Drifting. YOU ARE MINE. I am his. I am gone. Disappeared. Where did I go? Darkness. Don't fight it. Let go. Wandering. Lights. Turning over. Spreading. Slipping. Again. Here we go again. No more. Please God, no more. Hurts so bad. Stretching. Splitting. Tearing. PLEASE let him be done. Mind over matter. He's spitting on me. Says that's good enough to go again. Mad at me. I'm dry he says. Better that way. Spits again. Good enough. It's NOT. Sticking. Pulling. Feels like he's tearing me apart. He likes it. Says I'm so good and tight. Every stroke burns. Agony. Searing pain. Deeper. Harder. Stabbing straight through me to the other side. ALMOST DONE, he says. STOP SHAKING. SHUT UP. Just a little more. Thank God. Hold on. Slipping away. Almost finished. Is he? COME AGAIN. I can't. Can I? Thrusting. Counting. Two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, twelve, fourteen, twenty, sixty nine, HUT. I miss playing football. Think about something else. Anything else. Deeper. Harder. He says he's done. Please be done. Finally. Breathing. Gulping air. Curl up in ball, knees to chin. Is he gone? Have to pee. No, I can't. Too late. Burning. He's still in me. GET IT OUT. But he's gone. Not there. Need ice. Ice. Find the ice. Make it stop. He's gone. Don't care where. Away from me. Quiet. Curl up in a ball. Make the pain go away. Lord, please... Why ... Why ... Why... Is this how it's supposed to be? Am I so weak that I cannot do this? Help me submit willingly, Lord. My body is not my own. It is his. Strengthen me, Father. Need to sing. It will be better one day. I just need to trust. Singing -"All the way my Savior leads me, what have I to ask beside? Can I doubt His tender mercy, who through life has been my Guide? Heavenly peace, divinest comfort, here by faith in Him to dwell. For I know, whate'er befalls me, Jesus doeth all things well; for I know, whate'er befall me, Jesus doeth all things well." Tears. More tears. Why? What is wrong with me? Am I a horrible wife? I must be. This is my lot, my portion in life. I shouldn't let it upset me. God is in control, this is His will for my life, so who am I to question it or complain? Singing-"Day by day, and with each passing moment, strength I find to meet my trials here. Trusting in my Father's wise bestowment, I've no cause for worry or for fear. He whose heart is kind beyond all measure gives unto each day what He deems best -- lovingly, its part of pain and pleasure, mingling toil with peace and rest" . . . God must approve of this, otherwise He wouldn't allow it. And it says there will be pain mixed with pleasure, so I guess I should be thankful even through the pain.  This must be what He wants for me, and I'll just have to accept it. Lord, help me accept it .... Singing-"Have Thine own way, Lord, have Thine own way. Thou art the potter, I am the clay. Mold me and make me after Thy will, while I am waiting, yielded and still" ... I need to just yield. Lord, help me be still and yield. I confess my weakness, my frailty, my inability to properly submit to my husband as is my duty, my inadequacy as a mother, and my incompetancy as a housewife.  I humbly bow before you, Heavenly Father, and beg for your mercy. Haven't you punished me enough? I know I don't deserve to be rescued, but I cry out to you, oh Lord. Footsteps on the stairs. Coming up. It's him. He's back. Wants more. Shaking in puddle. Still singing. Want to believe. Hands trembling. Ice melting. In the doorway. His face. Sneering. Ridiculing. God won't hear me because I'm a slut. Worthless whore. Why am I singing to a God that can't hear me? Or doesn't care to listen? He throws hymnal against wall. Says we need to pray. Pray for my forgiveness. Pray that God will help me submit. Pray that God will forgive me for my weakness. That He will forgive me for my unwillingness. Pray that God will have mercy on me. Pray that God will make me a better wife. God help me take it all. Take it all. He wants more. No, Please, no more. Please, no. He says he'll be "nice" and only do my mouth. Please no. Please. On my chest, he's so heavy. Choking, gagging, suffocating. Bite down. Slap! Let go. Stop. No more. Finish yourself. You have two hands. Will I watch? Video. Awful & disgusting. Makes me watch. Hate porn. Skin crawling. Sick. He can't come. His arm is tired. YOU FINISH. My job. My responsibility. Take it all. Swallow. No. Sick. Gross. BASTARD! Gag. God help me. Darkness. Slime. Room spinning. Pillow soft. Quiet. Fading. Take it all. Just take it all.

Reminded (Acrostic Sonnet)

Some days fly by without a single thought,
Obscured by daily tasks that I must do.

How is it there are days that I cannot
Expect to find a passage safely through?
Reminded by the simplest little things,
Each time I pray that this will be the last.

I brace myself for what each mem'ry brings;

God help me, I can't breathe until it's passed.
Oft times the things that he has said and done

As foreign movies play before my eyes.
Gripped by the fear, I want to turn and run
Away from each unorthodox surprise.
I never wanted to endure it then.
Now I must somehow live through it again.