What My Body Had Been Through and What the System Missed

This section has been written primarily for professionals working in mental health, healthcare, and related fields. If you’re not in that world you’re still welcome to read it, but it may not be necessary for you and some of the content may be distressing.

Context

What follows is a detailed account of what I had been through by the time I sat in front of professionals.

The reason I’m sharing this level of detail is because there was a significant gap between what was actually going on for me and what they saw. That gap led to assumptions, wrong approaches, and additional prolonged unnecessary distress that didn’t need to happen. I believe my experience can be used as an example to learn from.

To understand how distorted and normalised everything had become, I’m going to take you through different parts of my experience.

I was 17 when the relationship started. It lasted around four years. I was 28 before I recognised it as abuse, roughly 7 years after it ended. It took watching a documentary with actual footage of someone else’s abusive relationship to recognise everything. Until that point I didn’t even know if I could call it that.

The abuser was connected to a world of drugs and dangerous people, I was in that environment too. We were regularly out in the city at all hours. The violence didn’t just come from the abuser. It came from multiple directions.

The Six People

I was beaten up by six people once. Two held me while four formed a line. Each of them had a couple of hits with a lot of force, same area abdomen each time, before moving to the back.

By this point my pain tolerance was quite high and I was used to violence that I was quite calm for the situation.

There was a bit of order to it and I could breathe in between. Because of that, and because they could have done a lot more damage than they did, this was genuinely not too much of a distressing experience in comparison to the others.

My thought process during:

Not ideal but everything seems to be okay so far.

Then a bigger person joined the queue. I thought I’ve taken quite a few hits now and this looks like it’ll hurt. I asked if she would consider not hitting me, said she had to, it did really hurt. They started to line up to go again.

Right, this could get serious now. I didn’t want to be hit again.

The only way I could break free from the two holding me was to throw all my weight into my left shoulder which ended up really damaging it as it was in a really awkward position.

The police and paramedics were already at the event and once people called them over they ran away.

At this point, the abuser was standing at the side watching everything and as soon as the police and paramedics came they pretended to faint, which happened every time I needed medical care.

I’m stood up a bit confused after the beating and see the abuser say something to the paramedic. The paramedic looks at me and says forget her, some girlfriend not even caring if you’re okay, you’ve just been beaten up. I just thought ugh really?

About 30 minutes later the pain in my stomach was getting worse. I needed to go to hospital. The abuser started an argument, saying I didn’t need to go, telling the taxi driver to go somewhere else. I said no, I need to be seen. The taxi driver agreed.

We arrived at the desk. Just as I went to speak to the staff, the abuser fake fainted again.

I don’t like making a fuss anyway so I just stood there like what am I supposed to do here?

A doctor gave me a quick check but said I was fine, just bruising.

The next day I went back to the same event. It wasn’t massively on my mind until I was sat near where it happened and felt a rush of anxiety, but then I thought it’s not likely going to happen again. Didn’t really think about it after that. No flashbacks. It took a few days for the pain to reduce but I had some strong painkillers and it didn’t impact me too much.

The First Concussion

Early on in the relationship, the abuser was hitting someone’s car for no reason. I went to apologise. Next minute I’m on the floor getting kicked. A lump on my eye, some bruising, and apparently a chipped tooth which I found out at the dentist later. “Oh well yeah I kind of got my head kicked a bit.”

The abuser was arrested, which meant my mum took me to A&E without them there. No one fainted at the desk. No one tried to talk me out of going. I had a scan. Mild concussion, resolved quickly.

One of only two times in the entire relationship I received proper medical care. Both times, the abuser wasn’t there.

Another incident

I was having a chat with someone on a night out. The abuser didn’t like it. It ended with them punching me in the abdomen and ribs a few times.

Then they ran into traffic. An ambulance was already there so they fake fainted again. I’m sat in the ambulance hunched over in pain, the paramedic said this is an absolute waste of our time. I said I know.

The Broken Nose

Someone had apparently been flirting with me. The next day, in my bedroom at my family home, one punch. My friend was in the next room. My family was downstairs. It broke my nose.

At A&E the doctor said it was quite badly broken, was that just one punch? I was like yeah and he said. well, they got you good didn’t they? A little smile and a shrug. He laughed. I was just happy to have connection with someone. I probably never presented in a way that showed what was going on underneath.

The abuser came with me for the pre op. My mum had no idea she was standing next to the person who did it.

At a housing benefit appointment the worker asked about my nose. I said someone elbowed me when I was dancing. The abuser went very small, appeared really frightened. The worker made a phone call to the abuser’s mum to ask if I was the one abusing them, despite me sitting there with nose tape and black eyes.

The Head Injury

I’ve had multiple head injuries and concussions, almost none documented. One time I lost consciousness after my head hit the sink, then the bath, then the toilet. I had a reference for what a significant head impact feels like.

Every other time I’d been hurt it had been one person. Or the group who took turns. I’d had my nose broken. My ribs broken. Repeated force to the same areas over and over again. My pain tolerance by this point was very high.

This was something else entirely.

I was standing waiting to go to the toilet. I said hi to the person next to me. Just being friendly. Next minute I was on the floor and three people started to stamp all over my back, neck and head.

Two women and a man while a person had hold of my hair. All at once. Just constant, heavy, repeated stamps and kicks to my head, my neck, my back. This was towards the end of the relationship so back, neck, ribs already severely impacted at this point.

I was face down and every part of me tried to get up, but there was no way. I was trapped. I couldn’t get up. And I remember this so clearly, a realisation. The amount of force and how long they’ve been going means this is a situation where I might die if they don’t stop soon. And all I could do was accept that, this time there was nothing I could do.

That was the most extreme thing my body had ever been through from one incident. Most intense out of body dissociation I have ever felt.

The bouncer came in seeing the last part, they thankfully broke it up.

She took me outside, I clung on to her so tight. I burst into tears, I was hyperventilating. All the other violence I never reacted, but this was a completely different level to anything before it. It was never safe to show emotion so this was new for me.

She said you really need to get your head checked.

The abuser was there. They tried to come close to me. I screamed get away from me.

I calmed down a bit. I need to go to hospital, no question. My head felt like it was double the size. The pain was the most intense thing I had ever experienced.

We got in a taxi, I tell them to the hospital. The abuser started making a scene, saying we had no money. I said we did, I even showed the driver, but he kicked us out after the commotion they caused.

A massive group of people came over. What’s happened? What’s happened? I told them. I said look, I even have the money, I was still holding onto it and showed them, I’m still trying to get to the hospital.

Big mistake, the mood shifted.

I gave them the money. Then I had to go to a cash machine to get enough for a taxi to hospital. This time I gave the money to the driver straight away by sitting in the front seat.

We finally got to the hospital. And at the desk, they fainted. Again.

I waited to see the doctor and my friend was with me. I told the doctor everything.

He said the words I don’t believe you.

My friend said no I was there, I saw the whole thing, it happened, I was trying to protect her head.

I said please. I really need my head checked. Please.

He kept saying it didn’t happen, I don’t believe you. I was sat there completely gobsmacked at the situation. The one time I am fully expressive, why would I lie about this. I normally never speak up but this time it was different.

He then started to mock me. He eventually offered me a scan but in the most belittling way, with a smirk on his face.

And this is where I should have accepted. I know that. The way he said it and the tone, out of principle I said no.

My mum arrived, I told her what the first doctor said but we were both worried so I went to see another doctor.

A different doctor. He did a quick test, looked at my eyes. But no scan, no checks on my back, neck or pelvis.

He said if what happened is true, you are very lucky to be alive.

He also said I didn’t have a concussion and I was completely fine. I just felt relieved to have been assessed.

What followed over the next few days and weeks was awful. The pain was constant. Every time I walked it shook my head. Everything else I could carry on through but this I couldn’t.

I had to stop work. Max strength codeine and that’s what I was taking just to function. This was different to anything I experienced.

I am not a medical doctor but I do feel like I had concussion. When I had a confirmed concussion from a doctor before, this was a different level completely. My body was so weak after this while the abuse continued and other external stress continued.

For a few years after I’d get flashbacks from that incident, it lessened but that really shook me.

I wonder what caused that first doctor to think I was lying. The scars on my arms from self harm? How I showed up? The abuser fainting at the desk? Why did the second doctor say if what you’re saying is true, why the if? I don’t know.

I have so much respect for doctors, the effort and dedication, what they have to put up with, not enough funding, abuse from patients, etc. I know if those doctors saw what happened they would have treated me, same with the paramedics. If they knew what was actually going on I know they would.

The primary fault belongs to that abuser to control and manipulate to that level.

There were a lot more incidents. I don’t think it’s necessary to go into them. I think it’s enough to demonstrate the impact and toll, level of control and my thought processes throughout.

The Final Attack

Not long after, the abuser attacked me again. Ribs first, then non stop kicks to the same area. Already broken. Already weak. All the progress with the physio shattered.

What I’ve described so far is only part of the picture. Around the violence sat a much wider pattern of control, distortion, danger and misidentification that shaped how my injuries, symptoms and attempts to get help were understood.

I trust if you’re a professional in this field, you can visualise the impact on my nervous system and when that was untreated physically and no trauma support mixed with other stressors so by the time I saw professionals we both didn’t have the full context so their approach was unhelpful at the time.

Control and Isolation

The abuser fabricated things friends and family had supposedly said about me. Unpleasant things. That they did not like me. I believed it. They controlled clothing and money. They fabricated a situation that stopped me going to uni and then caused me to be there with them 24/7.

They repeatedly tried to make me out to be the abuser, cornering me and wanting me to hit them. After hurting me they would injure themselves, call the police.

Throughout the week it could be triggered by small things. Things thrown. Doors slammed. Shouting. I’d be frozen on the sofa, whole body tense for hours, me and the dog huddled together waiting for it to pass. There were constant comments that no one would love me and that if I ever left I’d have no one. In the last incident they sent pictures to certain friends and family with blood on their face to say Laura’s been doing this to me. Thankfully they didn’t believe it.

The Dangerous Situations

The abuser was connected to very dangerous people and because I was with them, I was in that environment too.

People carried machetes and knives openly. Rivals would raid the place. An air rifle was pointed at me on multiple occasions. Every time I had to control my face. Not flinch. Not look weak. I got threats from people who had apparently killed people. I was spiked at least once where I lost balance and apparently passed out, I don’t think anything further happened.

I was also being driven around by people who were highly under the influence. I was constantly in environments where things could escalate from any direction at any time.

What Happened When I Went to the Doctor

By this point I was already getting really intense symptoms from the abuse. Severe vertigo. Difficulty walking.

The abuser told the doctor it was alcohol withdrawal. The doctor accepted that and suggested I sip wine throughout the day.

That was the level of distortion by then.

The Police

The police were used in the same way medical care was blocked.

A lot of the time when the abuser hurt me. They would injure themselves, call the police, and present it as my doing.

The door would be rammed. I’d get messages from police saying I needed to go in. I had to run. I was in handcuffs many times. It showed up in many different ways.

The one time I was formally arrested, they were trying to get me to hit them. I escaped but then they targeted my ribs that were already injured. Afterwards they injured themselves and called the police. I spent the night in a cell with broken ribs.

The abuser phoned my mum. When she picked me up, the first thing she said was “what have you done.” She initially believed the abuser’s version I get it because I was the one arrested and I imagine the abuser was convincing. I said no, that’s not what happened, but I still didn’t tell her what actually had.

A year later I briefly told someone at work about it because I needed a special chair and physio appointments. They asked if I went to the police. I thought there was no chance. I was the one on record. Most of the injuries weren’t documented. They could have pressed charges at least six times on me. I’d probably be the one arrested.

The Point

The point is that none of this sat in isolation.

They happened repeatedly, in different forms, with almost no real chance for my body or nervous system to recover in between.

Afterwards, I was left with the impact of all of it, but without proper recognition, treatment, support or understanding. I kept going back for help with serious symptoms and was repeatedly misread, dismissed, or given explanations that did not account for the full picture.

So the accumulation was not only in the abuse itself. It was also in what followed. Injuries were carried and pushed through. Symptoms were left unresolved. My body kept being forced to function without the support it needed.

The next part is about that accumulation, and why it mattered so much.