Narrative.

In April he got a text. It was late. I shattered. We were in bed - so it must have been late because he used to sit up until midnight, 1 am.  I said, "Sorry, but in all honesty how would I know it was over? I can't know. You wont talk to me, you dismiss every fear I've expressed. How would I know?" 

He snapped back.

"It's over".

May 24 th at 4 am. His phone rang, he missed answering it. He got a text. He said it was a friend and he would text me later. 45 minuets later I get the text. a simple message. "I've been beaten up, going to hospital".

I phoned him and heard him say, "I've been lying to you...."

My sons were angry with me, and told me not to go to the hospital. I went.

I'm still processing: *my sons were angry with me*.

Ok, this post is low on detail, enough for you to know that my life flipped from Bohemian Middle-class, Guardian reader to the worst of Eastenders in seconds. And it continued. I purposefully turned the nose of my imaginary Amelia Earhart plane, that had been battling through hurricane winds of psychosis, death and violence for over three years, into the heart of the storm. As he blubbed on about how he had feelings for her and loved her and how her terrible husband had taken the children and smashed her phone I was clear in my mind that I did not give a flying f***.

What had started as a shock, had started the process of clarifying my view of reality.

I had not been suffering from anxiety. I had been suffering from 'gaslighting'. Gaslighting, lying to a person to make out that real incidents have not happened, is emotional abuse. There are no two ways to look at it. It is emotional abuse. I had literally been questioning my own sanity. 

Back home. My sons had gone. Covid or no covid. He was full of shame and guilt, I felt like I was coming round after brain surgery, not sure who I was or what I was thinking. I just knew truth felt better than the lies. I decided to go round and see her. He pleaded with me not to. I've no idea why. I asked him for her address and for a moment he must have had hope...that I didn't know.

But of course I did know, because when it had started I made sure to find out as much as I could in preparation for this day. I didn't know the number of the house, but promised I would stand in the street and shout until I found out. 

Actually I just knocked on doors!

So, there I was. I apologized to her husband for not telling him in May last year (when it started) but I had been told it was over, so...

And this bit of the narrative really should be made into a play, and I don't know why but if feels wrong to write everything out here...just suffice it to say, I felt better for apologizing to the husband. I thought that she was an unemotional 'Teflon' cow, who was still lying to her husband even while I was in the kitchen! 

....that was three weeks ago.