Sometime my life seems so unreal. In retrospect many of the most dramatic events often seem somewhere between a dream and voyeurism.
I was once the victim of a very public and violent assault by my ex partner, in a city bar after one of our club gigs.
A silly argument turned irrational in a moments flash and before I could react I had be king -hit in the face, kicked repeatedly in the head and face while I curled around trying to protect myself.
I felt my face swell, my nose bleed, my ears pop and ring, my stomach curl in and ache with such intensity I thought I might vomit.
A useless drug fiend stood and watched the whole attack, not quite understanding what the hell was happening and failing to assist in any manner.
In what seemed like eternity, or perhaps a few minutes security guards came and pulled my partner away from me as his continued screaming and spitting venomously at me like a mad man. My only recourse was to run and get in a cab, go home and put some ice on it, sleep it off like a wild hang over that had got the better of me.
I guess a weird psychological stance is well in play when one doesn’t consider such an indiscretion grounds for departure.
The next day, when the beast came home, he promised he would ‘never hurts me again.’
( Such a simple promise, which would go on to be broken again and again.)
I phoned work with some relief to tell them I wouldn’t be coming to work as I was well, I wouldn’t be in all week until my black and swollen eye deflated and nosy customers would ask nosy questions about what happened it how I was feeling.
Later that year I was assaulted again and again) Had a dinner plate (with dinner) smashed in to my face, causing a sever bleed and a trip to the Emergency room.
Another time I tried to escape the insanity and hide with my back hard up against the bed room door, only to have to kicked and broken over me.
The saddest thing is I love this man more than anyone on earth. I preyed for his heart and wanted to give him a sense of belonging after losing his mother to suicide. I figured we both lost our hearts to suicide, so perhaps we’d find love for one another on common ground.
Instead my entire world became so small. domestic servitude and emotional servitude ate up my sense of self worth and four years of my life.