Getting over it vs. Getting out from under it

So, last night, my doorknob almost brought me to tears.

I was opening my front door to go outside, and something about the way I looked down at my keys in the deadbolt triggered a memory: my ex-boyfriend yelling at me for taking his keys out of the lock on his front door. The outside of the door. Apparently he had some system of leaving his keys in the lock on the outside while he disarmed his alarm system…? Not that he’d ever explained this to me. I was just supposed to have observed it, I guess.

The worst part was remembering how I didn’t react to it at the time. If I ever heard a friend’s boyfriend speak to her that way, I’d take his head off. But when it was me, not so much.

I was in an emotionally abusive* relationship that ended last summer. But it dragged on longer, as I found out what felt like every day some new way that he’d lied and cheated; or when contacted me about something trivial (like where he’d put pictures from a trip) – which I now know is a classic narcissist tactic. I finally completely cut off contact with him and his family around the start of the year. And still, my world is full of these little memory landmines like my doorknob.

*It took me a long time to admit to myself that, yes, the way he treated me was abusive. That is a strong word, and I don’t use it lightly. And, if you’re still friends with him and have a hard time believing that, you’re just going to have to trust that I saw a very different side of him than he showed you. And if you’re sitting there thinking that yelling, belittling, dishonesty and gaslighting don’t “qualify” as abuse, you are wrong and you need to learn more about this.

I keep being told by well-meaning friends to “get over it.” I told myself that, too, for a long time. I felt guilty because he was still taking up so much space in my head. Then I realized something. When people tell you to “get over it,” they never quite explain what “it” is. In my case, there’s the actual break-up. And then there’s the healing that needs to take place when you’ve been abused and betrayed. When you tell me to “get over it,” I think you think I’m still on the first one. I’m not. Getting past the breakup – by which I mean, getting used to this person you talked to every day for months not being in your life – took a month or so.

But it’s going to take me a lot longer to accept the fact that I was abused,  and to understand why I glossed over so many red flags and ignored so many of my own standards. I’m not going to apologize for not meeting your timetable.

Part of why this experience still makes me so angry is that I was supposed to be the person who never got taken advantage of ever again. A lot of you know that I was raped in 2007. In the first few months afterward, I went to counseling and I was really good about telling my friends when I needed help (which does NOT come naturally to me). But my priority was getting over it. It makes sense; I wanted to be normal again, not this person who was afraid to leave her house some days. At my first meeting with my counselor, I actually asked how long it would take. Like, is there a 3-6 month window? A year? What should I expect? And, of course, he told me everyone is different and I should give myself as much time as I needed.

After several months, I started feeling frustrated that my anxiety and depression hadn’t gotten any better. I started feeling guilty talking about it with my loved ones and worried that they were getting burned out on dealing with my needs. I basically forced myself back into regular life – the social activities I’d had before, dating - so I could pretend I was healed. It was a disaster. I was most definitely not ready to handle those stresses or interpersonal interactions. All I got out of it were bad relationships and a “recovery” that ended up taking years, which it probably didn’t need to.

So that’s why I knew that sweeping this relationship under a mental carpet and pretending I was fine would only keep me from healing, not help. I needed not to be ashamed to ask for support. I started going to a counselor, who told me not to feel guilty for taking the time I needed. I started talking a little more openly IRL and on social media about my experience, and learned that a lot of my friends had also dealt with this. I wrote in my journal a LOT.

And I started hearing “you need to get over it.”

If you’re someone who’s said that to me – or to anyone who’s not moving past a breakup, losing a loved one, or some other trauma – I get it. I really do. You worry that I’m obsessing and concerned that I’m not allowing myself to move on. Here’s the thing: telling someone that his emotions are inappropriate, or that she is wrong for feeling the way she does – those are things that emotional abusers do. Now, you are not coming from a place of manipulation or control like the abuser was. You genuinely want your friend to feel better.

Unfortunately, minimizing is minimizing, no matter your intentions. Remember that the person you’re saying this to has freed themselves from a situation where he or she was constantly made to question and feel guilty for every thought and action. Your friend is trying to rebuild his or her sense of self after having all boundaries demolished. The last thing they need is a trusted part of their support system – you – triggering those same feelings of powerlessness and guilt they felt in the relationship. Sorry to ruin your day, but that IS what you are doing when you order a friend to stop feeling the way they feel.

Also, I have a PhD in obsessive anxiety, okay? I know what it looks and feels like. I specifically did NOT want to go that route. That’s why I go to counseling twice a month, journal and practice mindfulness exercises. But I also have to accept the fact that those memory landmines *will* sometimes still go off. I have far better strategies for coping with those triggers than I used to, and I can keep those reactions from taking over my day. But I am going to have a reaction. It’s okay for me to get angry when something makes me remember being abused and doing nothing about it. It’s okay for me to feel unsettled when he ignores my boundaries and follows me on Twitter (now blocked btw). And I’m not going to feel bad about taking a few minutes to process those feelings. If that means I need to hit up Facebook for support and encouragement, so be it.

There is one circumstance I can think of where you may need to break out the tough love. If your friend *isn’t* taking steps to heal, intervene. Help them understand how they can benefit from counseling. Help them find someone to talk to (because, let me tell you, a recent trauma survivor is NOT good at jumping through hoops). And, if you find yourself genuinely not understanding why your friend isn't getting better, or you have run out of things to say… that’s okay. You don’t have to have the answer. You can just listen, even if on the inside you’re banging your head against a wall. “I’m sorry,” “I don’t understand, either,” and “hug?” will never get old. And if you’re frustrated because you think your friend is wallowing in self-pity… Maybe you should step back from this one. I don’t say that to be mean; it’s just that you have to take care of yourself, too. If the situation is stressing you out, consider some distance.

 

I need my loved ones to trust that I am doing everything I can to heal. The fact that I even acknowledged I needed help was a huge step for me. Admitting that was like coming out from under a giant black cloud. Please trust me when I say that I already have gotten a lot better, but it’s going to take more time to get there all the way. I haven’t gotten here by myself. My friends help me remember what normal feels like, and I’m grateful for everyone in my life.

After what happened to me back in ’07, a friend who worked near my house would drive down my street most days on his way to work. If he saw my car in the driveway, he’d call me – why aren’t you at work? Are you okay? You’ll feel better if you leave the house, I promise. Every. Time. I’m sure there were days when he thought to himself, OMG girl just throw some clothes on and go to the office FFS. But there were also days when that phone call was all that got me out of bed. And that’s the part that I remember.