‘And you’ve been scared for a long time,’ said Claire.
‘Yes.’
‘Savannah, I’m aware that what you have described, the relationship, the marriage, has been a very dark relationship. It was a relationship of emotional and physical abuse. It will take time to work through it, time for you not to be scared at the very thought of your ex-husband’s name,’ Claire said gravely. She used the word ‘ex-husband’, even though it would be a long time before Calum was an actual ex, but Savannah appreciated that so much.
‘Yes,’ said Savannah, sighing.
The session was nearly at an end when a thought came into her head. She’d been surfing the net, looking up information on women like herself, women who’d been – she hated the term, hated it, and yet it made sense – emotionally abused. Because Calum had hurt her physically on three occasions. Her finger still still ached, she thought, flexing it.
But abuse was abuse, the therapist explained. Calum’s abuse of her was an emotional onslaught designed to destroy her. It was verbal, was the removal of affection, was the taking away of relationship, the silent treatment, the coldness, the sarcasm, the utter contempt.
That was emotional abuse, but was that her life? Had it been?
She and the therapist spoke about this endlessly. And sometimes Savannah slipped into thinking,Was it that bad? Why didn’t I do something about it, if it was that bad?
She was drawn to reading about abuse online and she compared herself to other abused people. Women who’d had jaws broken, been admitted to hospital. Was her abuse not so bad because her jaw had not been broken? Once, she’d read a negative comment from someone who’d angrily asked why none of the women had stood up to their attackers. ‘Had they no backbone?’ Savannah had winced at that.
Backbone to stand up to the person who controlled their every move?
Claire always brought her back to the central tenet of their therapy which was that nobody was allowed to treat her that way. Just because she had become used to it, did not make it right.
‘I swing between two trains of thought,’ said Savannah guiltily, ‘between horror and thinking about him and the joy of being free of him, and then, then I think, was itthat bad? Was it so awful, am I imagining it?’
And then she paused because this was strict therapy and what she wanted to explain was something she’d seen on social media. But she went ahead with it anyway.
‘I read an amazing thing,’ she said, ‘about the type of tactics people use when they’re emotionally abusing someone. They gaslight them. They say, “you’re crazy, you’re emotional, you’re insane”. They belittle you, they do all those things. And you—’ she paused, – ‘you do everything you can to make that not matter, to fix the relationship.’ She felt shamed admitting this.
‘If he said I was stupid, I was stupid. If he said I was over emotional, I was over emotional. And then I read this thing and it said you don’t have to set yourself on fire to keep somebody else warm. I read it yesterday and it meant something to me, because I’ve been putting myself on fire for years to keep him warm. And I put myself on fire but I didn’t know if he wanted to be warm. He might have wanted to be cold. But I would have done anything to make him happy, because then the torture would stop.’
‘This has been a wonderful session,’ said Claire. ‘And that’s a marvellous quote. Hold on to that if ever you doubt yourself.You don’t have to put yourself on fire to keep somebody else warm. It’s a wonderful way of putting it. You were never responsible for Calum’s moods. But he made you responsible. And you took that burden. So our job here is to let you see that you do not take that burden for anyone. That was his burden. You have put out the fire.’
‘Yes, thank you,’ said Savannah.
Savannah picked up Clary from her friend Daniel’s house. Daniel’s mother had been such a tower of strength during the past month.
Savannah had not known what to say to people so she’d said nothing. Nothing about Calum leaving. And nobody had asked about him because they weren’t used to seeing Calum, as it turned out.
Savannah was the one who took Clary to school, brought her to play dates.
Calum was always too busy.
The first week, when she’d gone round to pick up Clary from the play date she’d had in Daniel’s house, Joyce had taken one look at Savannah and said, ‘I’m not trying to be rude, but you look dreadful, Savannah. Come in for a minute, for a cup of tea and some sugar.’
‘I can’t eat sugar,’ said Savannah, anxiously. She was quivering. She shook all the time as every bit of adrenaline in her body was speeding through her.
‘Come in. You can tell me all about the wedding at the weekend,’ said Joyce.
‘Yes,’ said Savannah mechanically.
‘It looked lovely in the paper, I saw the picture today,’ said Joyce. ‘You’ve a beautiful family. They didn’t have a picture of you. Come into the kitchen and sit, Savannah. You’re deathly white.’
Savannah knew many people who would be interested in knowing what was wrong with her for all the wrong reasons. But Joyce was not one of them.
She led the way into her kitchen, which was messy and homely.
‘They’re out the back on the trampoline with the dog.’ The dog was a Labrador retriever called Sweetie.
Savannah loved dogs, adored that little pup her father had brought home all those years ago, and she peered out the window.
