Twenty Ways to Lose Your Partner

I first published this on 15 January 2018, and then deleted it. But now I see no reason for it not to be out there.

Here are some sure-fire techniques for driving any partner up the wall. Use them wisely, as they might harm your long-term prospects for happiness.

  1. Only talk to your partner through their child – look at their child and say, ‘Daddy hasn’t given you a bath in two days.’ Never talk to your partner directly, because that would be to show them respect.
  2. Only ask your partner to do things through their child – look at their child and say, ‘Would your daddy like to give you a bath?’ because asking your partner directly would be to show them respect, and as we’ve established in point 1, you don’t want to be doing that.
  3. Back your partner into a corner by only asking them to do things through their child – look at their child and say, ‘Would you like your daddy to give you a bath?’ That way, if your partner refuses because they’re exhausted or busy or wants to know why you can’t do it yourself, the child becomes upset and it makes them the asshole.
  4. Combine all of the above – look at their child and say, ‘Why don’t you ask your daddy to give you a bath?’ because that really twists the knife in the emotional kidneys.
  5. Pick a fight with your partner through their child – look at their child and say, ‘If your daddy doesn’t give you a bath, he’s being really selfish, isn’t he?’
  6. Then say you don’t want to fight – look at their child and say, ‘You don’t want mummy and daddy to fight in front of you, do you?’ because with the child on your lap, you can say anything and your partner isn’t allowed to react.
  7. But blame your partner for everything anyway – look at their child and say, ‘I hope you don’t end up messed up, with a father like yours.’ But it’s okay, because with the child on your lap your partner can’t defend himself at all.
  8. Then go to bed – leave your partner to deal with both kids by himself, and when he asks for help, claim he’s being selfish and unsupportive of your needs.
  9. And bad mouth him to your mother – ring your mum and tell her how hard your partner is to live with and how he’s a rubbish dad and partner, just loud enough so he can hear it over the sound of running the bath. But when he comes into the bedroom with a face like thunder, tell him you’re having a ‘private conversation’ and wait for him to leave.
  10. Have ten hours sleep to his three – and snore really loudly while you’re at it.
  11. Then ridicule him for his needs – make light of his tiredness in the morning, take half an hour to get dressed while he gets the kids up, and be sure to call him selfish again if he wants you to help out. Ignore the fact he’s had a headache for seventeen days and an upcoming heart scan, and has been referred to the Mental Health Team to learn how better to manage his stress.
  12. Act moody – snap at your partner, give him the cold shoulder, and sit on the sofa to eat your breakfast while the rest of the family is at the table.
  13. But… – when he asks what’s wrong, tell him you’re fine, that nothing’s wrong, and that he should leave you the hell alone. Then give him the silent treatment.
  14. Go out shopping all day – because, why not?
  15. Tell him afterwards you’d wanted him to come – say you’d wanted it to be a ‘family day out’, with him sitting in a cafe with the kids while you shopped, and get upset when he says that doesn’t really qualify as a ‘family day out.’
  16. Then suck up to him and say, ‘Love you really’ – because you do, really. Because for all your talk about his laziness and selfishness and lack of support, and how you want to kick him out, you know he does the lion’s share, and the lioness’s, and you wouldn’t be able to cope without him. And that’s why you hate him too. He’s living the dream that you wanted, the challenge you haven’t risen to, and breaking him down piece by piece stops you feeling quite so bad about yourself by comparison.
  17. But never say sorry – because brushing everything under the carpet is the best way of ensuring it never gets dealt with and the cycle will repeat, day in, day out, until the end of time.
  18. And don’t try to get help for your issues – because that would be to take responsibility for your actions and behaviour, instead of blaming it on autism, hormones, depression, your upbringing, abandonment issues, and other people.
  19. Expect him always to be there – because he always has been, through thick and thin, and no matter how badly you’ve treated him he’s always forgiven you.
  20. But don’t be surprised to wake up one day to discover you’re alone – because doormats eventually wear thin, and punch bags split. And sometimes love just isn’t enough anymore.

What was your best day?

For all those who have been following my blog in recent weeks, I don’t have the strength or the will to write about what happened today. Physically, emotionally, psychologically, I’m spent. I’m broken.

Instead, here’s a quote from the movie City Slickers that sums it up far better than I could right now.

Mitch: Alright Ed, your best day, what was it, twins in a trapeze, what?

Ed: No, I don’t wanna play.

Mitch: C’mon, we did it.

Ed: I don’t feel like it.

Mitch: Uh, okay.

[pause]

Ed: I’m 14 and my mother and father are fighting again… y’know, because she caught him again. Caught him… This time the girl drove by the house to pick him up. And I finally realized, he wasn’t just cheating on my mother, he was cheating on us. So I told him, I said, “You’re bad to us. We don’t love you. I’ll take care of my mother and my sister. We don’t need you any more.” And he made like he was gonna hit me, but I didn’t budge. And he turned around and he left. He never bothered us again. Well, I took care of my mother and my sister from that day on. That’s my best day.

Phil: What was your worst day?

Ed: Same day.

The confusion, guilt and self-doubt of being abused

In my last three posts, When you’re in love with Dr Jekyll…, Coronavirus and domestic abuse, and It must be so much easier as a girl, I’ve finally started being honest about the kind of relationship I’m in. It’s very, very hard to get your head round the fact that you’re being abused. It’s even more difficult to accept that the person you love is an abuser. And even after making those statements, you’re not free of the guilt, confusion and self-doubt.

You see, I don’t want to call my wife an abuser, because I love her. I don’t want to call her an abuser because it reduces the wonderfully complex range of attitudes, beliefs, opinions and behaviours of the mother of my children into a single, negative label. And yet, if I am being abused, then I have to say who is carrying out that abuse, as ugly and disloyal as that is.

I asked my support worker today if I’m overreacting; if I’m blowing it all out of proportion; if I’m somehow causing her behaviour and therefore it’s my responsibility to fix it. By tolerating it for so long, haven’t I taught her it’s okay to treat me this way? So how can I throw her to the wolves? I’m her husband – isn’t it my duty to stand by her through thick and thin?

I guess I was desperate for confirmation that I’m being abused and she’s an abuser. I mean, it’s not like she’s beating me up. It would probably be easier if she was, because at least then I could point at the bruises or the split lip and say: there! Abuse. Cut and dried.

Instead, I’m full of doubts. Where’s the line where being awkward and aggressive crosses into abuse? Who draws that line? Who is responsible for it?

I’ve spent six weeks desperately trying to get my wife to stick to the lockdown, only to be told by both Social Services and my doctor that I should just let it go and she can visit whoever she wants. Does that mean I’ve been the one in the wrong for the past six weeks? Does that mean her reactions have been acceptable rebellions against my oppressive values? Because it seems to me that the professionals don’t care about following the rules half as much as I do.

My support worker reminded me that this isn’t just about the lockdown – I’ve been going through this for years, and no matter how many times she’s promised to change, she hasn’t. Now I’ve finally taken the decision to leave for the sake of the children and my own sanity, I need to stick to it because it’s the right decision.

But I’m even more confused and guilt-ridden by my wife’s recent behaviour. Since she learned that I was talking to Adult Social Services on Friday, she’s been weirdly pleasant and compliant. At least when she’s being mean to me all the time, I feel a righteous sense of being wronged; when she starts being nice to me, it messes with my mind, because I start thinking, ‘Well, she’s not that bad, is she? You’ve got a nice life here, really, and if you’d just ignore all the shit she puts you through, nothing has to change. Wouldn’t that be easier than walking out and becoming a single dad? Wouldn’t it be better just to tolerate it because you love her?’

Or is this all just part of the game?

The most confusing thing is her reaction to what’s going on. When I said I was going to see the doctor, she was really pleased for me because she thinks I need my head sorting out. When I came back and told her the doctor had said that, for her mental health, she can go visit [redacted] whenever she wants, I thought she’d be happy – instead, she said she’s not going to visit [redacted] because it’s against the rules.

I almost choked on my own spit! For six weeks she’s been visiting [redacted] in open defiance of the lockdown rules, and when I tell her she’s now allowed to visit, she won’t because it’s against the rules! What the hell? I told her I don’t understand her. I don’t understand her at all.

Maybe that’s what she wants?

So today, after six weeks of cycling to the dairy most days, and the day after I told her I no longer object to her cycling to the dairy, she’s told the children they’re not allowed to cycle to the dairy because it’s against the rules! How perverse is that?

And the oddest thing happened this afternoon. When I contacted [redacted] six weeks ago to say that my wife was mistreating me and the kids, she told me I deserved it; that I was a manipulative monster who caused my wife to attack me; that I wasn’t a good father or husband; that I was disloyal; and that she’d never talk to me again and never forgive me. She’s told my wife to openly defy me over the lockdown; she’s told my wife and kids to lie to me about seeing her or they’ll all get into trouble because I’m a bad man; and she’s told my wife to gather evidence against me to support their attempt to paint me as the abuser instead of the victim.

So why did my wife read out a text she received from [redacted] this afternoon saying, ‘I’m looking forward to seeing Gillan when this is all over. I’ve really missed talking to him. I’m very fond of him.’

‘What are you trying to do to my head?’ I asked my wife.

‘What?’ she said. ‘I thought it was nice.’

‘She sent you this just now?’

‘Yes. See, we’re not all against you like you think.’

What? What!?

So I’ve been sitting here feeling guilty, feeling confused. Is it all in my head? Am I the one with the problem?

It would be so easy to just roll over and let things go back to normal. Remain a husband in a nuclear family. Avoid the upset and the turmoil of taking my kids away from their home. Not end up a divorced single dad.

And then I looked back through the past six weeks of blogs, starting with It’s not meant to be this hard and coming up to date, and all the crap she’s put me through, and I remember that the niceness is just the thin layer of ice over the black depths below. And I realise that actually, while she is being nice, she’s not being that nice.

Like yesterday morning. I slept on the sofa the night before, so in the morning my wife sobbed to her support worker about it. She wanted to know what she’d done because she didn’t understand. I was heartbroken for her – I can’t bear to see people in distress, particularly those I love – and I don’t want to hurt her, so I offered to talk about it with her if she’d come into the other room with me, so it wasn’t in front of the children. But she refused – I could tell her in front of the children or not at all. I asked her again and again to go into the other room with me so we could talk about it, and again and again she refused.

So how serious were the tears, and how desperate was her need to understand, if she refused to discuss it? And by extension, how real is any of her current behaviour?

I just have to remember the bad times every time I’m blindsided by the good.

This is the confusion, guilt and self-doubt you face when you’re the victim of abuse.

It must be so much easier as a girl

I know, I know, I’m liable to get lynched even for suggesting that women might have an advantage over men in certain areas (the gall!), but before you sharpen your pitchforks, hear me out.

When you’re a guy on the receiving end of domestic abuse, it’s easy to feel a bit like Michael J Fox’s character in Casualties of War. He’s an American soldier in Vietnam who witnesses the other four members of his patrol rape and murder a Vietnamese girl. When they get back to base, he’s desperate. He tells his friends, he tells his officers, he does all the things he’s meant to do and none of them give a shit. The four rapists try to murder him, so he hits one of them with a shovel and in despair cries, ‘You don’t need to try to kill me, man. I told them. I told everybody. I told them, and they DON’T CARE!’

That’s what it’s like as a male victim.

Of course, it’s not entirely true, because there are people who care deeply about me and what I’m suffering. But I can’t help feeling that I’d be taken a little more seriously if I was a woman.

I mean, as I wrote yesterday, when I told Children’s Services about all the abuse I’ve been suffering at the hands of my wife, they offered me parenting lessons to help me learn how to better cooperate with her. I can’t imagine they’d have said the same to a wife reporting her abusive husband.

When, in consequence, my care manager forwarded my blog post to them this morning and said, ‘Read this and bloody do something,’ it threw them into a bit of a quandary. They called together all their staff to see what they could do, and admitted that if the roles were reversed – if I was a woman and the abuser was a man – they’d have me and the children out already. Because there are no shelters for men, they’re not sure what to do, but leave it with them and they’ll think about it some more. And this is 2020!

The one thing they did manage to clear up was that, since I found out last night that my wife has been taking the kids to a local dairy, where they’ve been mixing with the Polish workers and their children in addition to my in-laws, they can’t go back to school or nursery until after 14 days of quarantine – just what I wanted to hear!

So my care manager made an appointment for me with a GP to discuss my mental health, which my wife was happy about because she thinks it’s about time I get my head sorted and simply accept what she’s doing to me without complaining so much. He was a nice young chap with a West Country accent who kept calling me ‘mate’, and the episode would have been funny if it wasn’t so tragic.

I told him, at length, what was going on. I told him about my wife breaking the lockdown every day to visit [redacted], about the lies, about getting my children to lie, about poisoning them against me, about telling them I’m being mean to [redacted], about how my kids have turned against me, about the betrayal of our marriage, about the gaslighting, about disrupting bedtimes, about the shouting and the swearing and the screaming, about denying me access to their schooling, about my wife secretly filming me and keeping a diary of my supposed misdeeds, about being locked out of the house, about threats of violence, about having to walk on eggshells to avoid Dr Jekyll transforming into Mrs Hyde, about the likelihood of my becoming homeless, about my fear of having another breakdown, about the threat of the kids going into care, about the unbearable weight pressing down on me, about feeling abandoned by Social Services, about how I’d reached the point where I didn’t know how I could go on anymore and I had nothing left and I was going to end up in the nut house.

Well. The doctor seemed very concerned about my wife’s mental wellbeing, and how hard it must be for her to be separated from the support structure of [redacted]. How she must be struggling at this difficult time! He said that while my commitment to the lockdown is commendable, it’s time to let it go. He said I should allow her to visit [redacted] if she needs to and maybe even have supper with them and sleepovers, and you know what? Why not let [redacted] come round to my house, because she clearly needs that. It’s not ideal, mate, and it goes against the government guidelines, but if I look the other way and just let her do whatever she wants, he’s sure she’ll treat me better. The lockdown could go on for a while, so I really ought to do whatever I can to keep her calm and stable and make life bearable.

I just looked at him. I didn’t know what to say. On telling him I’m being abused and I want out, his first instinct was to empathise with my abuser. Must be great to have people who have never even met you make excuses for your behaviour, eh?

He told me to focus on the positives – my care manager had said some very nice things about me, and I was clearly doing a wonderful job, so I should keep doing what I’m doing. In fact, he had no idea where I found the strength to keep going, so what a great guy I must be – which was kind of missing the reason I was sitting in his office.

‘But I’m at breaking point,’ I growled. ‘I don’t even know how I’m going to get to the end of today. I’ve been carrying too much for too long and I’m all used up. I’ve built a wall around my emotions so I can keep functioning, but it’s starting to crumble and the trickle is going to become a tsunami that’s going to wash everything away.’

He asked if I was suicidal or thinking of killing the kids, so I reassured him I wasn’t.

As time was getting on, he said, ‘Well, mate, what would you like me to do for you? I mean, what do you want to get out of this appointment?’

I hate that question. You’re the doctor, you’re the specialist, I’ve come to you for help so you tell me.

‘I could give you some pills that might make it easier, but you’re already on two lots of pills and I think it’s helped to talk it through. I think you’re doing the right thing, mate. Your support workers can be the eyes on the ground and can feed back what’s happening, so stay strong for your children, mate, because they’re the most important thing in all this, and keep doing what you’re doing.’

And then he sent me home to the abuser, with the salutary lesson that I should use the strength I no longer have to appease my abuser so she abuses me less.

I guess I was expecting something more. Like, isn’t the message we give people that if they’re being abused, whether physically, emotionally or psychologically, they need to tell someone? It takes a lot to admit that the partner you love is also subjecting you to controlling, threatening, bullying and coercive behaviour, especially when you’re a man who outweighs his wife by several stones. You have to overcome guilt, shame, denial; you feel disloyal; you blame yourself; you make excuses; you’re afraid of the repercussions of speaking out; you doubt yourself; you pretend it isn’t that bad; you never stop hoping that things will get better; and just when they’ve got you at breaking point, and you’re ready to walk out, they start being nice and mess with your head. And worst of all, you still fucking love them.

To go through all of that, to finally have the courage to speak out, and have people shrug their shoulders and say, ‘Best not to piss her off then,’ and ‘We could do something for you…if you were a woman’…surely men deserve better than that, don’t we?

Don’t let the words that have been spinning around my head serve as a testament for male victims of domestic abuse: ‘I told them. I told everybody. I told them, and they DON’T CARE!’

A coronavirus thought experiment

Let us today try a thought experiment.

Imagine a husband and wife. They live in a house owned by the husband’s father and have two adorable little daughters.

But the husband also has an ex-girlfriend he can’t live without. Instead of turning to his wife for emotional support, he can’t resist texting his ex-girlfriend at least two dozen times a day, and telling her all his wife’s secrets even though he knows his ex-girlfriend likes to interfere in his relationship. He even texts his ex-girlfriend from the marital bed, despite his wife asking him not to.

To make it more current, let’s suppose that there’s a virus infecting the country, and people have been asked to stay at home in order to protect the NHS and save lives. Fantastical, I know, but bear with me here.

Now let’s suppose the wife is a long-term blood donor and former nurse who believes in following these rules to the letter, and asks her family to support her in this commitment to do what the Prime Minister, the Queen, the Cabinet, the scientists, the police, the newspapers, the doctors and the nurses have all asked us to do. Let’s pretend that the husband agrees.

But let’s also pretend that every day when the husband takes his kids out for ‘exercise’, they actually go to his ex-girlfriend’s house, where she cooks them a meal and smothers all three of them in hugs and kisses. Then they say to the children, ‘Don’t tell mummy what’s going on or we’ll all get in trouble. You don’t want to get us all in trouble, do you?’

And then, when they get home, they don’t want the meal that the wife has cooked because they’re already full.

Let’s pretend that, kids being kids, they can’t keep secrets, so the wife finds out about the visits to the ex-girlfriend, and knows she’s being lied to. Let’s suppose she confronts her husband, who says he’ll keep visiting whoever he damn well pleases, and there’s nothing she can do to stop him, and by the way, did you know this is my father’s house and since we’re in the middle of a lockdown there’s nowhere you can go?

What can she do then? Let’s suppose that the wife decides to appeal directly to the ex-girlfriend, from one woman to another. She asks her to please not come between a wife and her husband, or a parent and her children. She acknowledges she can’t stop her husband from visiting his ex-girlfriend, but she’d hope they’d at least be careful and follow the social distancing rules. They’re all adults so there’s no need to sneak around, and it’s really not appropriate expecting children to lie for them.

Imagine the ex-girlfriend replies by telling the wife to go screw herself, and that if she wasn’t such a terrible wife and terrible mother, her husband wouldn’t feel the need to visit his ex so often. Imagine the husband witnesses his wife’s humiliation and approves of it with a knowing smirk.

Now imagine the wife tells her husband she knows she can’t stop him from seeing his ex-girlfriend, but can he please take some precautions and just be honest about what he’s getting up to. He says he will.

But imagine he doesn’t. Imagine he keeps visiting his ex-girlfriend with the kids every day, and tells his wife he hasn’t seen her, despite the lipstick on his cheek and on his children’s faces. Imagine he tells his wife that nothing is going on, despite the children saying, ‘We saw her again, but they said not to tell you.’ Imagine the wife begs her husband to just be honest with her, and the husband continues to lie in the face of overwhelming evidence.

Imagine that eventually the wife breaks down and tells her husband that she feels betrayed. She feels heartbroken he’s chosen his ex-girlfriend’s short-term happiness over his wife and his marriage. She wishes he would stop visiting his ex-girlfriend and stop lying and getting the kids to lie and start respecting his wife and show some consideration for her feelings. And she warns that this will very likely end in divorce if it carries on.

If you’re expecting a tearful apology, you’re new to this game.

Imagine instead that the husband tells his wife she’s got it all wrong. He loves her and respects her, and is 100% committed to his marriage. True, he goes over to his ex-girlfriend’s house every day, but that’s not to see his ex-girlfriend, you see, it’s to exercise, and if she just happens to be there at her house when he visits, it’s happenstance. And of course, if she chooses to cook him and the children a meal, or kiss them and cuddle them, well, there’s nothing he can do about that, is there? It’s not his fault. Can’t his wife see that he’s doing absolutely nothing wrong? He’s the victim in all of this. And the reason he didn’t tell her, and asked the kids to lie, was because he didn’t want to upset her. But don’t worry, sweetheart, just be a dear and ignore it in future. I mean, if you look the other way it won’t bother you so much. Surely you can see that you’re the one with the problem? And you know what? You’re not a very good wife and mother anyway. You never trust me or give me any thanks for what I do. In fact, you should be grateful to me. You should be thanking me for taking the kids to my ex-girlfriend’s. Everyone knows that you’re the one being unreasonable here. It’s all in your head. And how dare you accuse me of seeing my ex-girlfriend? I haven’t seen her in weeks. If anyone’s ruining our marriage, it’s you with your paranoia. Now be quiet and do as you’re told and I don’t want to hear another peep out of you!

In the above example, it would be very hard to defend or justify the husband’s behaviour. You’d be forgiven if you think he comes across as a selfish, deceitful, manipulative douchebag who doesn’t even have the balls to take responsibility for his own decisions. From a psychological standpoint, I’d say he’s gaslighting his wife, a form of abuse that undermines a person’s reality.

Now, for the last part of our thought experiment, I’d like you to imagine that the roles are reversed. Imagine it’s the husband staying at home and the wife who’s sneaking off with the kids, not to see her ex, but to see family members. Imagine they’re the ones who told him to mind his own business, they’re the ones who own his house, and they’re the ones who’d rather his marriage fail than suffer the indignity of staying away from children for a few weeks. Imagine she’s chosen their desires over her husband’s scruples, that she lies about seeing them, lies about the kisses and cuddles, asks the children to lie to their daddy, and when confronted, denies she’s doing anything wrong and suggests that he’s the one with the problem.

Does that make the abuse any less real?

Aspie Daddy

Welcome to Aspie Daddy, the website of Gillan Drew, author of An Adult With An Autism Diagnosis: A Guide for the Newly Diagnosed. Here I blog about autism, parenting, writing and surviving domestic abuse.

I was diagnosed with autism at 28 and have two adorable neurotypical children who I don’t get to see nearly as often as I’d like.

If you have any suggestions for posts or want to ask me my opinion on literally anything, leave a comment below and I’ll do my best to respond.

Thanks for dropping by.

Gillan