Hey all,
I'm new here, but have been lurking for a while and finally decided it was time to tell my/our story. As a carer of someone who has been battling PTSD since well before I met her, I keep a lot bottled in. Maybe this is my way of venting off a little stress pent up the frustrations and joys we have shared together.
I met my wife, we will call her June, a little over 20 years ago. We worked together and shared several mutual friends. Over time we grew closer and developed a deep friendship. As our relationship began to blossom I was informed by a few of our closer shared friends that she had been sexually abused as a child from the ages of six thru thirteen. I was stunned! How could this person, who was so honest, genuine, and unique have endured such horrors and still managed to maintain some semblance of normality?
I'll admit, I was totally naïve and unaware of the effects that such a prolonged exposure to abuse of this nature could have on someone. I had lived a relatively normal and sheltered life. No one that in my family or that I knew had gone through anything like that and I was totally unaware of the trials and tribulations that awaited me. But I digress...
As time passed, we rapidly grew closer and eventually started dating. June had had a daughter from a previous, short lived relationship and as things progressed we grew into a tight knit trio. Within a few months of our first "official" date, we were living together.
Things seemed great and our relationship strengthened. We eventually got better jobs and moved into a nicer apartment, and eventually bought a house together. Occasionally June would have bouts of depression while our physical relationship seemed a little cool, I just chalked it up to the difference between men and women.
By the third year, our relationship had started to cool a little. June would continue to exhibit the hot and cool cycles that ebbed and flowed, only now the cool periods would descend into out right depression and anxiety. She would become increasing despondent and isolate herself emotionally. I began to have concerns about the longevity of our relationship. I often thought I was the cause, or she had simply lost interest in me and our relationship. This was the start of what I like to call "The Dark Times".
June would resist physical contact, she would not tell me she loved me, she would avoid me and get agitated at the slightest things. We would continue to talk through our issues. Its at this point she began to bring up her abuse on a more regular basis. Until now it was simply something we both acknowledged, but kept locked away in the backs of our minds, at least my mind anyway. She insisted she loved me and didn't want to end our relationship but that she needed to work on herself. We persevered, but it was not easy.
Despite her bouts with depression and isolation, we did have our good times. We talked through our issues. I always made it a point to tell her that I was there for her and supported her through whatever it was she was going through. If she needed to talk we would talk. If she just needed me to sit and listen I would sit and listen. When she need a hug, she got it. When she didn't want me to touch her, I didn't touch her. Eventually we decided to get married.
But shortly there after, June continued to spiral down, collapsing in on herself like a dying star. One of the hardest things I have ever had to do was watch her fall into the abyss of depression and despair. Eventually she approached me and said we needed to have "The Talk". I was shure we were going to get a divorce, I braced myself for it. She explained to me that she loved me and cherished our relationship, but she needed to work on herself. She had decided to start therapy to address what had happened to her as a child, and that for the time being she was going to have to shut herself off from me physically, and possibly emotionally.
I cried, she cried, and we cried together. She cried because she feared the future just as much as she did the past. I cried because I was uncertain of how this would effect us and who would emerge on the other end of this ling dark tunnel that laid before us. We cried together because we knew we were going to miss each other and things might never be the same.
And so her journey began. For the next three years she struggled through countless therapy session, reliving the horrors she endured as a child. Crying for hours at a time mourning the loss of what was stolen from her. Isolating herself from the rest of the world as she came to grips with everything that had happened by reliving it in order to destroy it. Time and time again we teetered on the verge of separation and divorce. yet time and time again we retreated together.
I assumed most of the regular household duties as he focused on herself. I wanted to give her the freedom to do what needed to be done and allow her to heal. I'm not a martyr, and never claimed to be one, and I want no glory, but I gave up a lot to help her. Not because I had to. Not because she made me do it. Not because I felt guilty. I did it because I wanted the woman I loved with every fiber of my being to become the best person she could be. I wanted to give her the opportunity to confront her demons, and destroy them or at least cope with them. I have never felt more alone in my life. I had no friends who could even begin to understand the despair that had engulfed me. There was no intimacy or physical interaction to remind me or reassure me. I felt empty and often found myself falling into despair and grief.
For three years this lasted. The "Dark Times" indeed. If you are a man and have never endured three years of elective celibacy for the sake of someone you love, I can assure you that it puts a strain on your relationship. I struggled with frustration and anger I wanted to direct at her for doing this to me, yet I always returned to the realization that it was what I had to do to for us. I put my needs and desires on the back burner. It was my only option if I was resolved to stay. If I indeed loved this woman, this is what I had to do to keep her in my life. And so I pressed on.
It seems like such a short period of time now. Looking back through all the years since. Everything that has happened as time drags these years into the past. Yet I know that while we were living through them they seemed like epochs were passing. I can only imagine how it must have been for June. Yet she continued to work through her issues. One at a time. Day by day. Minute by minute. Second by second.
Eventually things began to change for the better, but slowly, and with setbacks that threatened to take her back to the very beginning. Triggers lay at every turn and in the most seemingly benign places. The toy aisle at the department store. The subject matter on a sit-com. The nightly news. Restaurants. Community art fairs. Life had become a minefield. But we learned to navigate it, step by step and inch by inch. Together... because that is all we had.
Slowly June began to emerge from the darkness. We would talk for hours again, confiding in each other unlike any time before in our relationship. We began to see things from a more positive perspective. Our relationship began to take on a new meaning and a new we grew closer. I remember one time when se confided in me and said that I was the only person she ever truly trusted because of what we were going through together. Our shared sacrifice became a symbol of our lover. It gave it meaning and redefined how we both saw love. What was once a amputated stump began to bloom again. It was magical and seemed more real than anything I had ever experienced before or since.
Eventually we started becoming intimate again. Slowly at first. Things like holding hands and talking long walks. Or cuddling and whispering to one another. I was careful to move at her pace. Letting her take charge and leading both of us to where SHE wanted to go. Eventually we started kissing again. And eventually, after shepherding our physical relationship from out of the desert, making love again. Only now it was making LOVE, not simply having sex for the physical pleasure. It was a physical manifestation and outward expression of our love, shared by each and given to the other. Light began to shine thru "The Dark Times".
We moved into a new phase of our life where the good times began to outweigh the bad. Slowly at first as we were both uncertain how to proceed. She was stronger now, and her emotional strength grew by leaps and bounds. I admired her now as a hero. She was no longer a victim. She had gone through hell and emerged a survivor. Damn I love that woman.
Years began to pass and we continued to grow. Eventually we had another child. It was not an easy decision but one we made together. Best decision we ever made.
Not every day is rosy. The demons still appear, and she still fight. But today she fights with confidence and hope that it may be her last fight. We both know deep down it wont be, but at least how we have hope. Before it was just fear and dread. Plus she knows that I will always have her back. I have proven that to her and she can depend on me to be there. Ill never leave here side.
I guess I'm writing this to tell everyone who might read it that there is hope. That there is a way out. Being a carer for someone who has gone through what our partners have gone through in one form or another is difficult. But we owe it to them to persevere, to be there for them. To be their rock. Life is a bitch sometime and unfortunately some of the people we decide to love get dealt a shitty hand. If we really love them, and I mean we make a conscious decision to love them, then we stay and fight with them. We hold them when they cry and wipe away the tears so they can cry again if needed. Is it easy? NO! Is it fun? Hell NO! But we do it because we love them. We do it because if we don't then who will. We do it because they deserve another chance to be the person they were always meant to be.
Knowing now what I didn't know 20 years ago would I go back and do it all over again? Hell YES! I would take that young stupid version of me, look him in the eye, hug him and tell him to hang on because he is on the ride of his life, its going to suck BAD! But in twenty years he can look back and be happy with every step of the journey!
I'm new here, but have been lurking for a while and finally decided it was time to tell my/our story. As a carer of someone who has been battling PTSD since well before I met her, I keep a lot bottled in. Maybe this is my way of venting off a little stress pent up the frustrations and joys we have shared together.
I met my wife, we will call her June, a little over 20 years ago. We worked together and shared several mutual friends. Over time we grew closer and developed a deep friendship. As our relationship began to blossom I was informed by a few of our closer shared friends that she had been sexually abused as a child from the ages of six thru thirteen. I was stunned! How could this person, who was so honest, genuine, and unique have endured such horrors and still managed to maintain some semblance of normality?
I'll admit, I was totally naïve and unaware of the effects that such a prolonged exposure to abuse of this nature could have on someone. I had lived a relatively normal and sheltered life. No one that in my family or that I knew had gone through anything like that and I was totally unaware of the trials and tribulations that awaited me. But I digress...
As time passed, we rapidly grew closer and eventually started dating. June had had a daughter from a previous, short lived relationship and as things progressed we grew into a tight knit trio. Within a few months of our first "official" date, we were living together.
Things seemed great and our relationship strengthened. We eventually got better jobs and moved into a nicer apartment, and eventually bought a house together. Occasionally June would have bouts of depression while our physical relationship seemed a little cool, I just chalked it up to the difference between men and women.
By the third year, our relationship had started to cool a little. June would continue to exhibit the hot and cool cycles that ebbed and flowed, only now the cool periods would descend into out right depression and anxiety. She would become increasing despondent and isolate herself emotionally. I began to have concerns about the longevity of our relationship. I often thought I was the cause, or she had simply lost interest in me and our relationship. This was the start of what I like to call "The Dark Times".
June would resist physical contact, she would not tell me she loved me, she would avoid me and get agitated at the slightest things. We would continue to talk through our issues. Its at this point she began to bring up her abuse on a more regular basis. Until now it was simply something we both acknowledged, but kept locked away in the backs of our minds, at least my mind anyway. She insisted she loved me and didn't want to end our relationship but that she needed to work on herself. We persevered, but it was not easy.
Despite her bouts with depression and isolation, we did have our good times. We talked through our issues. I always made it a point to tell her that I was there for her and supported her through whatever it was she was going through. If she needed to talk we would talk. If she just needed me to sit and listen I would sit and listen. When she need a hug, she got it. When she didn't want me to touch her, I didn't touch her. Eventually we decided to get married.
But shortly there after, June continued to spiral down, collapsing in on herself like a dying star. One of the hardest things I have ever had to do was watch her fall into the abyss of depression and despair. Eventually she approached me and said we needed to have "The Talk". I was shure we were going to get a divorce, I braced myself for it. She explained to me that she loved me and cherished our relationship, but she needed to work on herself. She had decided to start therapy to address what had happened to her as a child, and that for the time being she was going to have to shut herself off from me physically, and possibly emotionally.
I cried, she cried, and we cried together. She cried because she feared the future just as much as she did the past. I cried because I was uncertain of how this would effect us and who would emerge on the other end of this ling dark tunnel that laid before us. We cried together because we knew we were going to miss each other and things might never be the same.
And so her journey began. For the next three years she struggled through countless therapy session, reliving the horrors she endured as a child. Crying for hours at a time mourning the loss of what was stolen from her. Isolating herself from the rest of the world as she came to grips with everything that had happened by reliving it in order to destroy it. Time and time again we teetered on the verge of separation and divorce. yet time and time again we retreated together.
I assumed most of the regular household duties as he focused on herself. I wanted to give her the freedom to do what needed to be done and allow her to heal. I'm not a martyr, and never claimed to be one, and I want no glory, but I gave up a lot to help her. Not because I had to. Not because she made me do it. Not because I felt guilty. I did it because I wanted the woman I loved with every fiber of my being to become the best person she could be. I wanted to give her the opportunity to confront her demons, and destroy them or at least cope with them. I have never felt more alone in my life. I had no friends who could even begin to understand the despair that had engulfed me. There was no intimacy or physical interaction to remind me or reassure me. I felt empty and often found myself falling into despair and grief.
For three years this lasted. The "Dark Times" indeed. If you are a man and have never endured three years of elective celibacy for the sake of someone you love, I can assure you that it puts a strain on your relationship. I struggled with frustration and anger I wanted to direct at her for doing this to me, yet I always returned to the realization that it was what I had to do to for us. I put my needs and desires on the back burner. It was my only option if I was resolved to stay. If I indeed loved this woman, this is what I had to do to keep her in my life. And so I pressed on.
It seems like such a short period of time now. Looking back through all the years since. Everything that has happened as time drags these years into the past. Yet I know that while we were living through them they seemed like epochs were passing. I can only imagine how it must have been for June. Yet she continued to work through her issues. One at a time. Day by day. Minute by minute. Second by second.
Eventually things began to change for the better, but slowly, and with setbacks that threatened to take her back to the very beginning. Triggers lay at every turn and in the most seemingly benign places. The toy aisle at the department store. The subject matter on a sit-com. The nightly news. Restaurants. Community art fairs. Life had become a minefield. But we learned to navigate it, step by step and inch by inch. Together... because that is all we had.
Slowly June began to emerge from the darkness. We would talk for hours again, confiding in each other unlike any time before in our relationship. We began to see things from a more positive perspective. Our relationship began to take on a new meaning and a new we grew closer. I remember one time when se confided in me and said that I was the only person she ever truly trusted because of what we were going through together. Our shared sacrifice became a symbol of our lover. It gave it meaning and redefined how we both saw love. What was once a amputated stump began to bloom again. It was magical and seemed more real than anything I had ever experienced before or since.
Eventually we started becoming intimate again. Slowly at first. Things like holding hands and talking long walks. Or cuddling and whispering to one another. I was careful to move at her pace. Letting her take charge and leading both of us to where SHE wanted to go. Eventually we started kissing again. And eventually, after shepherding our physical relationship from out of the desert, making love again. Only now it was making LOVE, not simply having sex for the physical pleasure. It was a physical manifestation and outward expression of our love, shared by each and given to the other. Light began to shine thru "The Dark Times".
We moved into a new phase of our life where the good times began to outweigh the bad. Slowly at first as we were both uncertain how to proceed. She was stronger now, and her emotional strength grew by leaps and bounds. I admired her now as a hero. She was no longer a victim. She had gone through hell and emerged a survivor. Damn I love that woman.
Years began to pass and we continued to grow. Eventually we had another child. It was not an easy decision but one we made together. Best decision we ever made.
Not every day is rosy. The demons still appear, and she still fight. But today she fights with confidence and hope that it may be her last fight. We both know deep down it wont be, but at least how we have hope. Before it was just fear and dread. Plus she knows that I will always have her back. I have proven that to her and she can depend on me to be there. Ill never leave here side.
I guess I'm writing this to tell everyone who might read it that there is hope. That there is a way out. Being a carer for someone who has gone through what our partners have gone through in one form or another is difficult. But we owe it to them to persevere, to be there for them. To be their rock. Life is a bitch sometime and unfortunately some of the people we decide to love get dealt a shitty hand. If we really love them, and I mean we make a conscious decision to love them, then we stay and fight with them. We hold them when they cry and wipe away the tears so they can cry again if needed. Is it easy? NO! Is it fun? Hell NO! But we do it because we love them. We do it because if we don't then who will. We do it because they deserve another chance to be the person they were always meant to be.
Knowing now what I didn't know 20 years ago would I go back and do it all over again? Hell YES! I would take that young stupid version of me, look him in the eye, hug him and tell him to hang on because he is on the ride of his life, its going to suck BAD! But in twenty years he can look back and be happy with every step of the journey!
