Facing a giant is terrifying as hell so how come a little mouse creeps up to a stamping, noisy elephant and stands firm in its position and lo and behold the elephant squawks in fear?

This is something I couldn’t understand as a young, vulnerable and untrained female. Standing up for yourself and others and putting boundaries in place to establish respect is really daunting. It seems safer to become the giants friend even when they are crossing the line.

The naive world view here is that respect should be a given and that people should understand what is right and wrong and what is appropriate. Whether they do or not, some people choose to cross lines to get reactions from people and to achieve a desired outcome. Some people get off on others discomfort.

So why do these cringe worthy people make us feel as if we need to play along with their sick game in order to not rock the boat? Why do these people make us feel guilty for wanting respect and then turn blame on us if we dip our toe in the water establishing a boundary?

It is because these people have an in built radar scoping targets. They have become experts at judging who will fold and comply and who will stick to their guns and push back. After years of inappropriate behaviour they know the signs to look for their prey.

This bothers me to no end that I have not and cannot firmly say for someone to cease treating me inappropriately and that I will walk away, end the call or cut them out of my life if they continue to disrespect me. I believe i’m not alone in this. I just want people to know its okay to feel scared to speak up and to feel triggered in that moment, folding and complying with their agenda to safe guard yourself against conflict.

What we can do better is to firstly stop feeling guilty for wanting and trying to establish respect. To stop feeling unreasonable and stupid for believing people are good and know what is right and wrong and won’t cross the line intentionally. To stop feeling as if we somehow wanted this sort of attention and that it is our fault. We can try to take small steps in facing conflict bit by bit and build our confidence to the point where we are as brave as that little mouse.

Truth is the elephant is more scared of us. We are beautiful human beings that have more to offer the world than they ever will and they are threatened by our courage and our gentle spirit and jealous of the opportunities we receive because of who we are. The elephants are the cowards, not the mice. Please keep safe though if you do feel threatened by these people but remember most of them make alot of noise and high tail it out of there when you stand your ground because deep down they want easy pickings.

Are you feeling alone and stuck? Has life completely flipped on it’s head and your questioning what you even believe anymore? Life altering changes can be traumatic and paralysing and worse still they can be changes instigated by other people or completely out of your control and yet you are drowning in their depths.

This happened to me when my parents split up. It was a messy, abrupt and excruciatingly painful break up. It involved my little brother, he was in the middle and it got toxic. My other siblings were also involved but we had been used to toxicity and fights. We did not even believe this particular fight would result in a break up because of how used to them we were.

I remember feeling so anxious. I realised I had been feeling anxious for nearly a year leading up to this moment. Around my dad I was walking on egg shells, tensing up when he came near and my heart would race when he wanted us to be alone.

I would get overwhelmed when trying to get across my point of view or establish boundaries because inevitably my dad would cross them regardless or act hurt that I wanted a barrier up. He would instigate an extreme form of rejection by gaslighting and looking sour and withdrawing to a seperate space.

It is so awful watching someone you love being treated like less than nothing. Especially when that person has been kind, selfless and determined to be the best they can be. Hearing them sob from the depths of themselves over the lack of care they receive from their supposed partner is heart wrenching.

For my whole childhood to adulthood I watched my mum go through this pain. She did everything for us kids and most days she did it with a smile but behind closed doors we could hear her weep.

It was hard to watch but confusing to witness my dad smiling or acting nonchalant whenever my mum was holed up in her bedroom. It seemed as if she was losing her marbles, infact that was what our father portrayed.

He would take us kids out for ice cream or to enjoy some activity while mum huddled in the corner suffering in pain. This became normality. We watched her turn to alcohol in our teen years and then the sobs would be open, raw and for everyone to see.

I cleaned up my mums wine stained lips after she had balled her head off to her dad over the phone. She would profess how unhappy she was in her marriage and how unlovable she must be. Dad seemed to paint the picture that she had alcohol and childhood issues.

Us siblings would feel sad for mum but it was a confusing pattern to see them on the brink of divorce so often only to come together again. We felt we had to pick sides as each fight surfaced and most of the time my Dad won.

He seemed calm, nonchalant and comical. He would purchase a pretty gift for mum after their fights and he would take us out for a reprieve. How is a child supposed to distinguish that his gestures had the nature of a politician lobbying for votes at election time?

We only knew the version that our dad wanted us to know. We did not know what he said or did behind closed doors in order to provoke the pain my mum experienced on the regular. We saw heightened, reckless emotion from mum but my dad always seemed cool, calm and collected.

However the way he lobbyed for our sympathies was by taking us each aside to have a chat. He would seem pained over the fights. As if he could only show us kids his true, hurt feelings behind mums back. Then he would act as if he had had an epiphany and plead the case that mum was troubled. To top it off he would ask, “have I been a good dad?” To this question it was obvious especially after the gifts, the activities and the lack of outbursts on his end. We would reply “yes you have.”

After our confessions and the silent treatment he would bestow on mum, they would talk. Mum always seemed to go to dad to break the silence. They would talk for hours and afterwards we would watch as mum sat on dads lap, as if all was well again.

Little did I know this cycle of lobbying would continue. That he would keep pitting us against mum in each new fight. I soon came to resent my dad for it. Being put in the middle, forced to choose, was not an ideal childhood.

I started to become mums confidant as the fights worsened. It was like walking on egg shells around my dad after discovering his ploys. My heart hurt and my anxiety worsened as I watched him gaslight and belittle mum. Sickness would swell in my gut if I saw her on his lap, as if like a reprimanded child.

Avoiding my dad became the only guard I could use against my heart. However he sensed my distance, my secret chats with my mum and my disdain. He would make me the butt of family jokes and he would try all the harder to spin his web of confusing deceit.

The heart wrenching pain he dished out was at its worst when he kicked mum and my little brother out of the house. As I became enraged and self righteous, he turned his ugliness on me. He blamed me for having to turn her away because I had been sneaking behind his back to slander him. I tried to hold him to account but I failed. I did not have the power to face him then and I still have not held him accountable for that night, or any other after my first attempt.

He has since suffered with a mental health disorder and the signs were probably there well before. This does not excuse him for his lack of care for my mum or the calculated way in which he put the blame on mum. It only explains the heartlessness of it.

He provoked immense pain in mum and turned a blind eye when she was broken because of it. He pitted us against her so he didn’t have to face the responsibilities of what he did. He tried to look like the hero and lobby for our votes so mum would come off appearing troubled. The heartlessness of his actions however were due to an illness that he did not know how to control.

Whether a person intentionally manipulates a situation to their favour or not is not the point. It is wrong. And if someone in your close circle cannot hold you in your pain then they do not belong there. Even if mental illness is involved it should not go untreated. If a person is not present in your pain and instead uses the pain to further an agenda or cast off blame then you will know it’s red flag no. 5.

Have you ever wanted someone to be in your life so much that you denied your own sense of self to obtain it?

I find that after breaking up with someone after a time it can feel freeing and the dreams we had can resurface and we didn’t even realise we had put them aside when dating this person.

Why do we settle, why do we compromise on our core values or on the big things we want for our futures so that we can stay in a relationship and/or make one work? Shouldn’t the person that claims to love us be able to champion behind our dreams and share the same values? Yes. That is what it should look like.

Love should never look like losing ourselves in the process but rather in refining what we already are. It’s not a stressful thing to love or be loved by the right person. It’s calming, it does not need reassurance on the regular and it’s simple.

How do I know this when my previous blogs have been about the exact opposite? That’s true, I have never experienced true love. I know this. However, my mum is my role model and I have watched her as she found true love.

My mum was married for 27 years to my dad and for most of it she didn’t know who she was. Her sense of self was denied and misconstrued. Unfortunately my mum was vulnerable when she met him so she didn’t realise she was altering in order to be with him and keep him.

The wrong person will coerce you to change, evolve and deny yourself to become their perfect fit. He did that. He coerced her to leave her family, her only support system, to fulfill his dream. He coerced her into having children too early, halting her endeavours and getting involved in his pursuits.

Little by little she lost her own identity and her own voice. He would make her feel like she was lucky to receive his attention and she had to strive to be close because he was the only chance she had at happiness. This left her lonely because he had no intention of giving back, just taking.

He persuaded her towards decisions that left her and her family in ruin. He was a good liar. He even took from her the right to feel betrayed and screwed over. 27 years of brain washing, altered and denied lead her to a nervous breakdown. At the crux of it she realised he even took from her the right to be human, valued and taken care of. He stood blank and robotic as she went into a tail spin.

My mum was forced to flee and while it was soul crushing, she found herself. She began to take pride in her sense of space and the new world she was creating. She began to dissect her world view and rearrange and craft her own. She also claimed back her power.

Then she met the love of her life. This man felt she was way out of his league but he was enamoured, smitten and in awe. In a few weeks he made her feel calm, relaxed and respected. He took it slow and with ease. He showed her wonderful, unique moments; not to impress her but to see her light up. He demonstrated care and consideration when it came to connecting with her children.

This man let her make all the decisions so she could continue making her world the way she wanted it to be. He did not hold her wings down but he spread them, trimmed them and showed her how to fly. Together they took off, soaring across fields and discovering them at the same time.

What was unique about her demeanor was how calm, relaxed and at peace her body language and tone of voice seemed. She would talk and you could sense she was less in pain over the past. We could see she was healing.

He never let her settle. He won her but each day he continues to treat her the same. He encourages her to pursue her dreams and is always there by her side if she needs support. The key reason she knows she is loved right is because he demonstrates fatherly support to her kids and is generous with his time and thoughtfulness.

Anyone who gets to know him or who can witness my mum now will know that true love exists. That it is possible to find someone who would never let you settle for less than your worth or make your change to fit their mould.

If you find yourself deminishing your values, your opinion and the big things you ultimately want in your future then you know it’s not love, they are not right for you and it is red flag no. 4.

Abuse can seem like a pressure cooker sometimes. A rising of heat, contained and left alone. Tension rising as it bubbles inside. And then all of a sudden an explosive steam bursts forth scaring the shit out of you! Afterwards, while waiting for your heart to stop rapidly beating and your body to stop bracing for war, it simmers and dissipates as if to apologise.

Abuse is also hard to put your finger on, as to when it starts, especially if your a people pleaser. At the beginning he was so nice, too nice. It was a quality my brothers loathed. It came off fake, insincere and weak. My brothers saw a fracture and put it under the test.

His character did not stand the test when it came to alcohol. He had claimed sobriety but caved around my brothers. Over a period of time I saw him consume more and more until it hit stupid levels. Some of the worst moments occurred after awhile of being engaged. A switch flicked and he became a different person.

The abusive side popped it’s ugly head out. A smarter person would have seen this as a red flag and ran for the hills but I thought he could be saved.

After a night of intoxication I was very angry, upset and withdrawn. He would suffer a case of amnesia and would demand I tell him what he did. I would comply. He seemed half embarrassed and half relieved that he got away with lude behaviour. I wasn’t impressed with the lack of responsibility I saw in him. He would try to convince me that he was done.

This went off and on for about a year. I took him to counselling, read books on addiction and laid down ground rules. How unaware I was that he would never care about changing. It was like I was trying desperately to bring my fiance back from the dead.

As the psychotherapist Alan Robarge puts it; “He showed you who he was at the beginning but you chose to ignore it because you didn’t love yourself.”

How true this phrase is! I had seen alcoholism, abusive behaviour while intoxicated and then a fake apology followed by attempts to push the issues under the rug. I must have had low self worth. It was a toxic cycle and it only worsened when I held his surname.

The knot was tied and suddenly he was critical of everything I did, said or chose for myself. I didn’t know the rules yet. I tried adjusting my behaviour by giving him control over everything so I wouldn’t put a foot wrong. Even that did not work. He made it seem like I had choices but those decisions had to be made in the middle of a mine field.

This really fucked with my mind over time. Anything coming out of my mouth or from my mind was the wrong choice, out of bounds. He would win the control but he liked playing the game first. Finally he labelled me as indecisive and ‘you don’t know what you want,’ ‘you look confused.’ A smug, condescending look was accompanied by these. What enjoyment he must have felt to put me through that.

Decisions he made, however detremental or selfish, were allowed. If he wanted to ‘get fucked up’ then I had to accompany him while he loaded the car with booze and drank himself into oblivion. If he wanted to up and quit a job then not only was he allowed but he could splurge the money on games, booze and smokes to get him through a ‘tough time.’ It became like treading on egg shells, avoiding making him unhappy.

This was utterly impossible to do so. The abuse came out while sober and especially when ‘quitting.’ I got called ‘fat,’ a ‘bitch’ and too soft and sensitive when I disliked or even commented on his actions.

A small thing could set him off like vacuuming, driving or unclean glasses. He’d break something. He’d yell, belittle and blame me.

I became quite scared of him, I’d hide bruises if he grabbed me abit hard, I’d filter every thought and action and question myself. I’d let him off the hook and give him anything he needed or wanted.

When I got my brave on it was scary shit. To have to say the words “I want to leave you;” took courage and put me in danger of the pressure cooker going off. I eventually got the words out in a roundabout sort of way but even then he did not take them at face value. At first he blew up spewing out hateful words. Then he put me in the mine field by testing my intentions. He kicked me out but when I went to leave, he acted incredulous.

Afterwards a switch flicked and for the first time in months he grabbed my hand, looked in my eyes and took responsibility for all the wrong he had caused. Tears still sprang to my eyes at his confession and apology but something in my gut felt off. Inside I was resistant. I did not want to stay! When he created a seemingly heartfelt moment after a year, bereft of love; it felt put on!

On the 3rd of Feb 2019 he came into the kitchen, critical of how I cleaned it. I went into the office to take a breather and watch a tv show. He barged in; a demanding scowl on his face. He ordered me to get out of the room. I took my time and ushered a flat response. The pressure cooker bubbled and then exploded. He yanked my laptop out of my hands and threw it to the ground and began to stomp on it. I stood in shock, bracing for a hit which thankfully didn’t follow.

In a state of fear I carefully left out the back door; he followed. I made sure to keep a good distance between us. He questioned who I was ringing. I didn’t reply, I only felt safe when I was on the street. I typed up a text to my mum but hesitated on sending it. Before I could think too hard I sent it. He was watching from the window.

From that moment on I wasn’t alone with him anymore and I knew it was all over. I hadn’t been honest with my mum about the extent of what was going on. I let loose and spilled it all and I knew that alone would seal my fate. My mum knew I was not in a healthy relationship, that it was not right for me, but she didnt know how broken, abusive and turbulent it was.

Abuse is a confronting existence but victims prefer to make peace with the abuser than possibly set off the pressure cooker by letting anyone on. The abuser has acquired the initial control early on which in turn isolates and silences the victims.

It can be questionable as to when abuse starts and for some, how it starts. To each person it can look, feel and play out different. It can be subtle or overt, physical, sexual and/or emotional, quick to surface or drawn out; what’s common between these is a power struggle and boundary crossing.

For me it was intially subtle, drawn out and a mix of alcoholic/emotional abuse. His overly nice, wish washy personality was a facade over a selfish agenda and a tendency of self destruction.

What I would say is if someone close to you picks up on a trait or a contradiction in the person your dating; slow the relationship down, test it and don’t look for promises from them, look for results and actions. That way if they are lying to your face it may give you enough time to glimpse the mask dropping enough for you to see something off.

Also be on the lookout for anyone that bad mouths their ex or is disrespectful to anyone at all. I would also be wary of a person that seems too nice and agrees with all your opinions and ideals initially. All this and above is red flag no. 3!

I had no idea how valuable I was until I let him take over the marketing and communication of my worth.

I remember in the early days feeling confident in my body and who I was and his romancing validated that feeling.

He would compare other thinner women to me, placing me on a pedestal; I was the winner! It went so far as a sort of fantasy obsession over my, as he put it, ‘marilyn figure.’ Little did I know this would set me up to fail and how disturbed the obsession would get.

He maintained the facade of approving me, marketing me to all he met as ‘the best thing that came into his life’ and communicating with me exactly what I wanted to hear. That was until the wedding night. An instant change was in the air.

The facade dropped, he kept his distance as he downed wine and beer. He said he expressed more romance when drinking wine. He began to slur. I just waited, and waited. He was having a party for 1. I had witheld myself for someone that loved me and it appeared he didn’t want me.

Intoxication set in as he accidentally lit his wedding shirt on fire on a tea light candle. I was shocked! I wasn’t a wife but a babysitter! What followed was a disgusting display of drunken, filthy words out of his mouth and a rushed attempt to claim his prize in the morning. A failed attempt, a painful try and bereft of love.

The weeks that followed he showed disdain, boredom, a wandering eye and utter selfishness. I cried myself to sleep some nights as I realised he never intended on keeping his promises to me. He ordered me to sort myself out so I would finally be his.

The battle began. His marketing and communication strategy changed to reflect his displeasure in me. Phrases like ‘tripled in size,’ ‘my exes were all fat too’ and ‘I need a woman, not a girl’ were used to undervalue me. Porn was his other weapon to control me, if I didn’t comply with whatever he wanted, off to porn he went. And he wouldn’t let me forget how much better it was than me.

Piece by piece my heart broke as I watched him flick me into the dirt while many other women crowded that pedestal vying for his attention.

My beautiful outside began to reflect an emotional eating, depressed, introverted and sorry state of a girl. He kept me on my toes, most days I was a dried up shell but every now and again he would give me crumbs of ‘love.’

This crumb of love was what I had to work for. I gave and gave, worked on myself to become the woman he fell in love with. It was never enough. I felt like a plastic doll, a vacant thing he discarded when used.

To gain his attention he coerced me into portraying certain acts he enjoyed from those perfect, willing and ready specimens of women. I began to close off from him but his actions still hurt as he continually chose them over me. I was sickened to be in my own home while he did God knows what with whom. When he pretended to flush his ring down the toilet I knew it was over.

I got my brave on and started to contemplate leaving. I stumbled upon messages on his console with a woman, he brushed them off as spam. He spilled, while drunk, that he had sex chatted on a headset with another woman on his console many years ago. I thought it was great that he confided in me but he wouldn’t delete her when I asked. That seemed suss to me.

I had put my worth in the hands of the worst possible dealer. However the real mistake was my inability to validate my own worth.

At this moment, while away from him, I still cannot see a beautiful gem. I’m a diamond sitting in the dirt with a cheap price tag. That is how he left me.

Is it however the power I gave him. I let him take over the marketing and communications of my worth in the first place; Red flag no. 2!

Love. I thought I was in love and loved by another. That I was the woman he’d been missing his whole life and that only he could see the real me.

Destiny. We thought destiny had brought us together and we would create something beautiful together. I thought all the sparkle I had inside would shine brighter beside him.

Little did I know that all the dreams I shared with him were echoed back in perfect alignment but what lay behind the smoke screen was broken, ugly, insecure and insincere.

I cannot 100% say he was a narcissist but the story played out the same. I lost myself. I entered a power struggle. I saw a darker side to him behind his perfect mask. I was won over by what I thought was pure, good for me and a connection I shared with no other.

He would say all the right things.

“You’re figure is exactly what I dreamed of, I dislike stick thin.”

“I find it so attractive that you study communication.”

“I love your bubbly personality and your singing, I wanted a wife just like that.”

“I love how close you are to your family, I never had that with mine.”

“I knew the moment I saw you that I had to get clean, stop drinking and smoking. “

“Let me tell you all about my past, my pain because if you stay then we are meant to be. I want to be honest with you always.”

“I’ll work and support us, you won’t have to do anything but decorate our place exactly as you like.”

And many more perfectly orchestrated sentences like that were ushered until I felt that this man was my other half. I was the missing rib.

I had only ever wanted a man who loved every little bit about me. He must have seen through this and slowly as our relationship progressed, he took over.

His supreme jealousy was showcased one night at a family party. An attractive and musical bloke started talking to me about singing. My boyfriend hovered over and stood there. It slipped my mind to introduce him. He looked at me, hurt crossing his face. He said his goodbyes to everyone but me and stormed off to his car. I began chasing him, wanting to know what was wrong. He ignored me and sped off. I began to cry, unsure as to why he had left me like that. This was the first moment of control. My mindset needed to shift in order to keep him in my life. I had to avoid talking innocently with other men for fear of hurting my boyfriend. Red flag no. 1!

Hello everyone,

A Chandelier is multi-faceted, unapologetic and when the light touches the crystals just so, it dances around the room. The other instruments of light can be threatened by it’s beauty,  colour and sparkle but the Chandelier should never allow anything to dull its shine.