My angel. Chapter twenty four. Life worth living.

With three abusive relationships behind me, I was determined not to make the same mistakes again. I decided life would be much easier for me if I was not in a relationship and so my intention was not ever to get involved with anyone. I had been severely sexually abused as a child and as a result had always experience a deep depression that was difficult to raise above and a deep disgust of myself and my body. I felt deeply ashamed and embarrassed about my body, to the point of feeling that I was dirty and disgusting. Intimacy had rarely been a pleasant experience for me so I did not feel that I would missing out on much by becoming celibate, as I intended to be, for the rest of my life. I had just turned forty and had never felt loved by a man and did not think at my age, there was much chance that I ever would. I put all my focus into raising my children, alone. I did not want to risk my children getting close to anyone else, then that relationship not working out. My intention was, to raise my children the best way I could and to give them a better start in life than I had as a child. I did my best but I struggled without support and had no family, friends or relatives that I could turn to.

I had been treated for depression and anxiety since the age of fourteen and had been prescribed over twenty five different medications over the years, none of which had helped me. I was convinced that the drugs were playing havoc with my brain chemicals and preventing me from being able to shift the depression I felt. My doctor was not as convinced and he tried to up the dosage of Seroxat even though I tried to tell him it was killing me. He would not listen so I tried to stop taking it without his support, which was a dangerous and not wise move on my side. Withdrawal symptoms had me running to take my dose and in the end I was too afraid not to take it. I needed support to withdraw from the drug and my doctor would not agree to support me, so, for a while I continued to take it. Support eventually came in the form of Martin, 'my angel', as I called him.

My son had suddenly started going out to play more than usual and I was a bit concerned, especially as, at the age of nine, he hardly ever left my side. “Where you going love?” I asked him, as he was going out the door. “I'm going to play basket ball with Martin”, he said. I had been so wrapped up in myself that I had not noticed that my son had a new friend and when I found out the friend was a man, I was immediately concerned and felt disturbed. I started thinking that this Martin might be a paedophile and his aim was get my son to trust him by being friendly. I asked a hundred questions and my son assured me, and his judgement was usually good, that Martin was a good man. I imagined the worse and my son continued to assure me that Martin was not grooming him.

I discovered Martin was a single man who lived alone, a couple of blocks away from my home. I went and knocked on his door, to introduce myself and to check him out. Martin opened the door and I felt myself stagger backwards and my stomach lurch, as I said, 'Hi, I am Louise and I believe you are a friend of my son?'. I do not remember what his response was, all I know is, when our eyes met for the first time I felt stunned. I was hit by an intense feeling of what I now know to be love at first sight. The first time I looked into this man's eyes, my stomach collapsed and my knees turned to jelly. I was in love but it took a while for me to understand that as I had never been in love like this before. I felt an immediate trust in this man and we became friends and for a long time, I felt a sense of panic whenever he looked at me. I did not know what to do with myself when he was around. I was forty years old and felt like an immature young girl. In time I understood I was in love and when he looked deep into my eyes and smiled, my heart smiled. In his presence, my pain faded away and I felt safer and happier than I had ever felt before.

We became like a family, doing everything together, with the children. Everyday would be exciting and scary because I was in love but was afraid to tell him. I wanted him to stay with us instead of going home to his empty house at night, but was too scared to tell him. I would stand at the front door saying goodnight for at least ten minutes every night, while he, Martin slowly looked me up and down. I would be giddy with excitement and beaming from ear to ear and Martin would be the same by the time I finally got the door shut.

Martin's presence felt good and he lit up the house when he walked in it. My kids noticed it and I definitely did. He would say lets go for a family walk and we would go and walk on the mountains in the lakes, or walk on the beach, as a family, and I felt good. But at night, he went home to his own house.

For two years I was a quivering wreck whenever I was near Martin. I was deeply in love with him but I still could not tell him. I was afraid that he would run a million miles in the opposite direction if I was to tell him how I felt, so I kept quiet. It was not easy keeping my feelings under wraps like I did. His body language told me he felt the same but we continued as we were, a happy family. I had the perfect relationship with a beautiful intelligent man, and I loved him. I was happy in the relationship and knew that he loved me and my children. Every act showed his genuineness and he had a aura that emitted honesty and trustworthiness. I felt respected and loved by him and it felt good. If the result of my past was that I was meant to meet this man then it was all worth it. It goes to show there are real genuine men out there. Our relationship was platonic but I as my trust grew, I wanted more. I wanted to hold him in my arms, to reach out and touch him to hold his hands and I badly wanted him to hold mine. Even though thoughts of being intimate with Martin were terrifying, for the first time in my life, I truly wanted to be intimate. I had always thought myself incapable of having love for another, other than my children, yet here I was, madly in love.

I was often plagued with doubts about Martin, his reasons for being with us, even though he gave me no cause for concern. I knew that I had attracted abusive men before and missed obvious warnings, so I was wary. One of the most painful feelings to experience, in my mind, is to discover someone you love and trust, does not feel the same in return. I had been betrayed too many times and so with Martin, I looked for the warning signs that he could become abusive, for a long time. I did not trust my own judgement that he was a good man.

The only thing missing in my life, was that I had never held Martin in my arms, never kissed him or felt his arms around me. I saw similarities between my experience of being kept at arms length by Martin and those of my mother refusing to let me go near her and I felt distressed. I wanted to tell him my fears and tell him I loved him, but, a part of me was afraid he would reject me and I would lose him forever, if I pushed for anything more. A big part of me, which I fought, felt like I was not good enough for him. I did not feel attractive enough that he would be attracted to me. One night I purposely had a glass of wine but told Martin I had more, so that I could blame the alcohol for my actions of blurting out how much I loved him. When I did finally tell him that I was really attracted to him and I wanted to know if he felt the same, he rejected me. His response was, “ I love you as a friend”. Something told me he was not telling me the truth. I knew he wanted to be with me as much as I wanted to be with him. He stood by the door as if he did not feel safe coming all the way into the house, and squirmed about in front of me, “Its not that I don't find you attractive!, I love you all but not in that way. In my heart, I knew he loved me and could not understand why he was denying it. We continued as before and we were very happy. In time we got closer and closer and I knew that it was for life. He told me with his eyes that he loved me. He told me with his words, in the longer than needed cupping of my hands, as I passed him his coffee, in the lingering looks, in the looks I saw him give me when he thought I could not see him, and his actions. He showed that he respected me and my children and cared deeply for us all and it was plain for all to see..

At the end of each night, after we had 'chased the sunsets, walked on the beach or seen a movie, done something as a family, he would go home. I wanted more and would cry for him but he never knew. He was there whenever I needed him. I thought that God must have sent him to me to help me carry on because he was like an angel to me. He knew that I needed support even though I tried to hide what I was going through in my head, from the world. He gave me and my children so much support through those dark times and never asked for anything in return. Eventually I trusted him enough to tell him a little of what I had been experiencing and he supported me even more.

He would know when I needed a fuse, a book shelf or a fitted bedroom and he would fix and build expertly. I would come home from work and all my lawn would be mowed and new plants planted and I felt dizzy with happiness when I saw it. Once he found out the whole street were having the front of their house painted. He knew I could not afford to have my house painted and when I got home from work one day, he had done the whole house. His plumbing, carpentry, joinery and electric skills were professional and he maintained my home and helped eliminate a lot of additional worries of coping on my own. My friends told me they wish their partners would be more like Martin and they too would be happy if they had such a relationship.

I relied on Martin for my emotional support with the children and he became a strong parent figure to them all. My children, even though they had their own fathers, looked upon Martin as their dad and they respected him. He was the one that helped them with any issues they were struggling with, he was the one that helped with the homework, he was the one that build bridges in the stream with my children, not their own fathers. He taught me how to be a parent even though he had no children of his own. People often mistook him as dad to my children and we let them think that. I was proud to have this man as father to my children. He knew I was desperate to give my children the life that they deserved. I wanted the best for them but my past had left me with little knowledge or understanding of how to raise healthy happy children. I wanted to be happy and teach my children how to be happy but had not known how to make that happen, now I was learning to be happy. With Martin, we felt happy. He taught me to love and trust again. I was grateful for his support and knew that I could overcome any fears while he was around.

Next chapter. Road to recovery.

Previous chapter. Dream come true

Why I tell my story