I never considered myself someone who could possibly end up in an abusive relationship. I’m type-A, I do well at things, I’m pragmatic, assertive. I think overall I’m a reasonably aware person. And yet I ignored red flag after red flag from the get go. Expensive gifts, love bombing, intense attention, isolation.
Once I realised in my gut that things weren’t right, I was too far into it, I felt trapped by my own shame. I was embarrassed that even with all my privilege – educated, loving supportive family background – I’d managed to get into something so damaging. Part of it was I was desperate not to fail. I kept hearing people around me talk about how “hard” was normal and that you had to work at it every day. So I put my head down and I tried. Everything.
People would describe him as fiercely loyal – unless they made a misstep. His inner circle of friends are some of the most wonderful people I’ve ever come across. I guess we were all drawn in by the same thing. Funny, a raconteur, handy, very generous – at times. He was also quick to cut people off. Never to mend the relationship. Highly critical of friends and family behind their backs. In my ignorance I went along with his assertion that almost everyone in the town in which we lived had wronged him in some way or was an idiot.
The insidious nature of an abusive relationship is part of the problem – until you sit down and take stock properly it’s very hard to identify. I worked out part way through what the issue was – not enough love for himself and therefore had no capacity to extend it to others. In my eternal wisdom I was certain I could help – I had plenty of love to give and – I did love him. I was sure I could change the way he was treating me. I thought that because I knew what it was I wasn’t a victim.
I wasn’t a shrinking violet either – I would often call out the behaviour, which would then be met with apologies and I’ll never do that again’s and love bombing and so it went around. I was lucky to have the escape of work, which he seemed equal parts proud and jealous of.
I had a constant base level of anxiety anytime I was arriving home. I never knew what I was walking into, it could be fine and nice and normal – or I might have left the lights on or not put something away in the correct manner and walk into a total shitstorm.
Being berated in front of people, not being allowed to move things in our home, making sure to have very short showers (only ever wash my hair when I knew he was out of the house), clean up behind myself at all times, turn a light off as soon as I leave the room, park the car in the garage in the correct manner. Tip-toeing became my default at home.
Anyone listening closely to my lyrics over the years will have noticed this is not the first time I’ve written about that chapter of my life – go back to Already Gone, Just ‘Cause You Don’t Want Me, Darkness, Don’t Wait.. the list goes on.
Since Don’t Leave the Light On was released I have had a flood of feedback and messages from people across the spectrum of experience. While it’s gratifying that the song is connecting widely, my heart hurts to know that so many others have been through it or are still stuck.
One of the fortunate things about being a writer is that the nature of the work helps to process things. Because I was writing about it before I left the relationship, in a way it was like letting go in advance. I don’t feel burnt or hold any bitterness. I am genuine when I say I wish him well.
It feels very strange to write explicitly about a life I kept extremely private for a long time. The choice to speak publicly isn’t one I take lightly, honestly I’d rather just sing about this stuff. I offer my story in the hope that someone might see themselves in it, and find the courage to get out sooner than I did.
For anyone concerned about my situation, I have a best-case scenario ending for you: I got out, met the love of my life, and now have a large chaotic family with my best friend.
Don’t Leave the Light On by Mel Parsons is available now
‘ The preceding article may include information circulated by third parties ’
‘ Some details of this article were extracted from the following source www.nzherald.co.nz ’
