I'm not "rolling my eyes" up at you, I'm looking deep into my soul!

I've been asked to write something of a very personal nature about what it is like to live with a survivor of child sex abuse.  This was something that was asked of me some time ago by an organisation that helps to promote awareness of this in Australia and has been of so much help to countless survivors that I couldn't really say no to them, but it certainly has not been something that I have found comes easily.

The first thing that springs to mind is this is not a normal relationship.  I cannot really compare my relationship to anybody else's.   I know we're all different in our own way, but usually girls (and gays) can sit with one another and vent about their boys being boys and driving them up the wall.   And equally the men (and the gays) can bitch about how their old lady is nagging them to death.  Cliches, I know, but also truths.  So my friends and their relationships are just completely alien to what David and I go through.

I've given up trying to explain my woes to my friends, who often offer really unhelpful suggestions like "you need to draw a line" or "you need to stand up for yourself".  Don't get me wrong, I'm no weak flower or pushover when it comes to decision making - in fact I'm quite overly forceful at times (my own issues - am working on them, okay?) when I feel I need to be - but what works for others does not work for somebody who is dealing with a partner who is suffering from PTSD - taking a "stand" can send them reeling into a quivering mess or flare up a past trauma that doesn't really need to surface because he's irritated the bitch out of you over some chore that you really wish he had got around to doing a week ago.

I've met a few survivor's partners and I must admit we do find common ground, but it's not like we all hang out with each other all the time so our meetings are fairly rare.  Also, most partners of survivors tend to keep a very low profile - and most survivors are more than happy with this as they actively try to shield this part of their lives from their lovers/wives and families.  That's not how David and I function, however, and it's unlikely that we ever will.  Those partners that I have met who are like us have been so helpful - we look at one another with that knowing look, like hippies did after they'd taken acid and they'd just "grok" someone merely by seeing them at a party.

Lately, because the Royal Commission has raised awareness of David's and so many other survivor's horrific childhoods I have had enquiries as to how this is affecting me, and boy is that one hard to answer.  "He cries a lot" was a common stock reply.  I'd use it mainly because people did not really understand what it actually meant.  When someone who is suffering from PTSD weeps they look so broken you actually fear that they will never again regain their former composure.  David is amazing at being able to face the world but there are times, when he's at home and in that safe zone, that his weeping and wracking sobs can find a way out of his inner core and shake through the foundations of his soul.  It's never a pleasant thing to observe for anyone (and I have an ongoing issue with folks crying).  I often feel most uncomfortable when somebody displays emotions other than my usual favourites = happy, joy and angry, so I can find it tremendously challenging at times.  Holding him usually helps.  And shutting the fuck up.

Patience is a virtue and by golly have I become much better at dealing with things than when I was younger.  I won't stand for nonsense any more - I'm nearly 50 now so if you piss me off I will tell you why, loudly and clearly.  If I don't want to do something and you needle me about it and try to "cajole" me by bitching about it to me I will probably tell you to "fuck right off" rather vehemently.

When David annoys me, however,  I have learned to take a breath and not bash him with blunt brute force.  I'm not perfect, it doesn't always work out as planned however I am so much better than the raging youth that I once was.  Also, I have learned that there has to be a limit to the amount of alcohol that I am able to consume in one sitting.  I simply cannot afford to 'lose control' any more.  It's a bit like when mothers (and fathers too - although it usually takes them a little longer to get on board this particular train) realise that they have to be able to take charge of situations at a moment's notice at any time while they're caring for their children - they simply cannot afford to be out of control because if the phone rings and there is an emergency.....

Overall I feel blessed that I met David.  Without him, my life would be so different.  I can't even begin to imagine where that drunken whore that I was would have ended up.  I have my own blemishes and issues and traumas, most of them much less public than my partner's have been, so it's not like David is the only broken one in the relationship and it's just possible that maybe that is why we work so well together.  Well, everyone says that we do all the time.  In the words of my best friend Kate, who sadly passed away in her sleep a few years back now: "You two...... I just love you two".

Yes, I just love us two too.