From the Other Side: Everyone Has a Story They Will Never Tell

By Jacquelyn Ann

As Jacquelyn Ann sat alone in the airport, she ignored his desperate pleas to bring her back to the hell her life had become. Every part of her felt wracked with anguish, after months of intense drug use and violent, soul-destroying domestic abuse.

When he first entered her life three years earlier, Jacquelyn was a divorcee in her late forties, with an established teaching career. At first, he seemed perfect. Captivating and intriguing, he had her under his spell from the moment she met him. He quickly formed friendships with her three adult sons and young daughter, fitting perfectly into their lives. But while Jacquelyn was certain she had finally found her soul mate, the one she would spend the rest of her life with, he was busy planning his next move.

What followed were patterns of cruel emotional abuse and violent physical punishment that left her terrified and broken. Her friends and family had never understood why she had stayed with him for so long. How could they? She didn't understand it herself. They had no idea of her promise to keep his secrets. Or how that promise created a malignant trauma bond to him, which led to her own destructive drug addiction. She lost herself in a world of darkness she could never have envisioned, culminating in one last night of terror.

Now, as Jacquelyn sat alone in the airport, she wondered how she would ever come back from the chaos she had been a part of. How would she ever repair the broken relationships with her family, her friends and her children? And how would she ever get any semblance of her life back again, to find the compassionate ambitious teacher she once was, beneath the bruised and broken addict she had become?

An inspiring memoir of courage, strength and survival, 'From the Other Side' takes the reader into the frightening world of drug addiction, coercive control and domestic violence. Jacquelyn's story shows that even an educated woman with life experience can fall prey to drug addiction and the insidious effects of a psychopath.

A captivating must-read for anyone who has ever lost hope - either for themselves or for a treasured loved one.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: Jun 2, 2020
• ISBN: 9781922368843

Jacquelyn Ann

It is one year ago now since I left that awful life behind. I first began writing about my experience with domestic violence and drug addiction the first few weeks after I left. Sifting through old emails and text messages to try and put all my memories in some sort of order. It was only after advice from my psychologist, who told me that writing is a therapeutic way to process trauma, that I began to think about writing a memoir. The rest, so they say, is history.It isn’t easy to stand up in front of the whole world and talk about your truth. But if doing so can clear an easier path for others to do the same, then it is well worth it.Jacquelyn Ann is a mother of four with a Bachelor in Education and has recently completed her Art Therapist and Clinical Art Therapist Diplomas. She grew up in country South Australia and taught for over ten years in a variety of primary school settings throughout South Australia and Queensland. Jacquelyn is now living peacefully in her hometown with her daughter, and actively works to bring awareness to domestic violence and drug addiction. Her evolving work as an art therapist aims to help others heal trauma through pen and paint.

Book preview

Part One:

The beginning

1.

In a haze of cloudy confusion, after months of intense drug use, I sat alone in the airport.

I ignored his desperate pleas, designed to bring me back before I got on the plane. His usual means of manipulation were useless now, but he didn’t know that yet. He was still certain he could drag me back to hell. But there was nothing left to say. I had warned him I would leave one day, that I wouldn’t stay once the hits became too hard and the will to bounce back had gone. Finally, that day had come.

With visions of my children leading me to safety, I stumbled my way onto the plane and sat down. I watched the ordinary people, putting their luggage away, clicking their seat belts on, laughing and smiling as if nothing was wrong. They seemed like aliens to me, buzzing with excitement, chattering senselessly. In stark contrast to the emptiness that sat in the pit of my stomach. It had been months since I had ventured out of the underground without him. Detached and numb, it all just felt so wrong. That god-awful siren kept blasting away in my head. Turn around! Turn around! Turn around!

Every single part of me struggled with the temptation to get off that plane. To grab my bag and run. To scurry back to him, like a lost tragic moth to an intoxicating flame. He had convinced me that I was safe there, that I belonged in that place with him, because no one else wanted me, did they? His evil grin sneering at me, proud that he had accomplished his mission. I was now broken, just like him. The same cloak of shame that had weighed him down for so long, now lay heavily across my shoulders too.

Still I sat there, knowing in my heart that I had nothing to run back to. Instead, I silently pleaded for someone to just move the bloody plane, because then I had no choice but to stay on it and face the rest of my life without him. A thought inconceivable not so long ago, but even I knew now, enough was enough.

It was only as the plane began to slowly move, that I began to understand. I saw, for the first time, the full depth of chaos I had been a part of, and the long road back that lay ahead of me.

2.

I first noticed him four years earlier, when he commented on a mutual friend’s social media post. I knew of him, as we had grown up in the same small country town, and we had many mutual friends. As a child, he had joined my family on many Christmas camping adventures, but as he was three years younger than me, I never took any special notice of him.

He had moved away to the city after High School to go to University, and then interstate a few years after that. I knew he had married, had children, and was working as a Maintenance Manager for an overseas mining company. Then I heard through the local grapevine that he was coming back to our small town, to stay with his mother for a while, to get back on his feet after a messy divorce.

When I saw a photo of him on a dating site, he looked relaxed, with an alluring smile that beamed towards the camera. I was intrigued. All I had heard about him over the years filled me with curiosity. He was clearly a smart man and had obviously had an interesting life. In his photo, he had an air of self-confidence about him that appealed to me, so I wrote to him.

I was in my late forties at the time, working as a teacher in a small school. I was proving myself professionally, achieving goals that I had set since starting my teaching career. I loved my work and had formed very close relationships with the staff and children. I had a loving family with a close group of friends and my weekends were full of social gatherings and laughter. I never saw my drinking as a problem, but in hindsight, it was. Getting drunk most days, I was self-medicating, trying to escape from the painful emotions that threatened to bring me down. I just didn’t realise it at the time.

I was living in a house with my two teenage sons, and my ten-year-old daughter. Six months earlier, their father and I had separated after a twenty-five-year marriage. I met him when I was only seventeen, not long after the separation of my own parents. At the time, I was subconsciously seeking stability rather than an all-encompassing love. As he was six years older than me, working on his family’s fruit block, he was able to provide me with the safety net I needed.

Over the years our marriage became a comfortable one. We had four beautiful children together: three boys within five years, and then eight years later, we were blessed with a daughter. We had conflicting ideas on how to raise our children and eventually this became an increasing source of frustration for us both. As our sons rebelled, life became fraught with resentment and anger. I found myself constantly trying to appease the situation, to keep our family together at all costs. Over time though, it became clear to me that I wanted something more from life. Something my marriage could no longer offer me.

The day after our separation, my husband left town and moved to another state, which was not what I expected. There was no interlude between our marriage and our separation, no chance to co-parent or work things out. He was there one minute and gone the next, which was a massive upheaval in my life and the lives of our children. We had been together for thirty years and learning who I was without him was confronting. For my children, they no longer had a father present in their lives, which left them confused and unsure of what the future might hold.

After he moved out, there was a violent incident with my oldest son. A heart wrenching episode, fuelled by alcohol, that left me traumatised. He had always found life tough and many days and nights he struggled to cope. After his father left, things really spiralled out of control. He was sent to jail over the incident, which left me guilt-ridden as I wondered what more I could have done to help him.

Traumatised, guilt-ridden and vulnerable, I felt completely alone in my pain. I didn’t deal with my marriage breakdown or the incident with my son as I should have. Never sought counselling, despite the efforts of my family, friends, and the police. Instead, I just swept it all away where it couldn’t be seen and moved on with my life.

Hence the drinking. While I never considered myself an alcoholic, it provided an easy way to numb my emotions and mask the need to face anything.

There I was, forty-eight years old, alone for the first time in my life and emotionally vulnerable. My solution was to find someone to fill the void the sat inside of me. I didn’t want to be alone. I didn’t want to face anything or go through my feelings with anyone, I just wanted someone to come into my life who could make it all better. I went on a few casual dates and had a short relationship which were fun, but nothing seemed to fill that empty void.

All of that changed however when I saw him, casually laying on a banana lounge, looking at me with that alluring smile. This man seemed different somehow. He seemed to have his life together, composed and confident. Maybe this was it. He might be the one who could rescue me. I was excited to get to know him and find out.

3.

Walking into my home for the first time, tall and good looking in a red shirt with torn jeans, he had a unique presence that commanded my attention. He was distinguished looking with appealing blue eyes, and I liked that he didn’t try to hide his nervousness. Instead, he was confident enough to show his vulnerable side and I found it refreshing.

He was also bold and exciting. Some may say uncouth, because as we sat down on the lounge to share a drink, he reached over to pull my shirt aside and grab my breast. Instead of being appalled that this man I had only been with for ten minutes exposed what was under my clothing, I felt captivated. In a way it lightened the mood, but it also created an intense physical connection immediately.

We talked a lot that night. There was an ease about him I hadn’t felt before and the conversation flowed effortlessly. We had a lot in common it seemed. Some of the same insecurities about being alone, the same hopes and dreams for the future. He told me I was beautiful and smart, and he had never felt this way on a first date before. Even wondering if we might be soul mates; he had heard an inner voice beckoning him back to our small town, maybe it was to find me?

He talked a lot about his ex-girlfriends. One was bipolar, another was crazy and hysterical, while another was bitter and still in love with him. I wouldn’t be able to cope with his ex-wife he said. She would be jealous of us and do everything possible to ruin our relationship, especially when she realised how close we were. Many of his ex-girlfriends, including his ex-wife, had been unfaithful, but he knew I would be different. He knew I would never hurt him the way they had. I was being programmed. Swept away into a magical fantasy that made me feel special in every sense.

Sex with him was like nothing I had ever experienced before. He had no inhibitions and encouraged me to be the same. Bold and assertive, he pushed my boundaries constantly, and it was thoroughly exciting. It soon became clear though, that the act of sex had no special meaning to him. Rather, it was just a physical act between two people, without the usual emotional implications. He was open about that as he keenly shared many of his past experiences with me.

Very early in our relationship, I found myself wondering how on earth I had captured the interest of this man. He was worldly, experienced and exciting, yet I was naïve and reasonably conservative. What could he possibly see in me? My children liked him too, as he treated them as his own. He was kind and understanding, fixing my daughter’s bike, and taking the time to have long meaningful conversations with my sons. He fit perfectly into our lives and quickly became someone we all trusted. I began to feel immensely grateful towards him for giving us the chance to love him, and for filling the void that had been left after my separation.

With no fear of commitment from either of us, it was an easy relationship to fall headfirst into.

4.

Over the next few weeks, it became apparent that he was quite depressed at times. Communication with his ex-wife was toxic to say the least. Relentless back and forth messaging, full of verbal abuse, threats and hatred. I read how she threatened to spread malicious rumours throughout our small town about him, a thought he found terrifying, as it would destroy the public image that he had tried so hard to create. He often disappeared from our conversations for long periods of time after threatening suicide, then suddenly appearing again. For hours I worried, wondering if he was okay. Other times I attempted to talk him through the episodes, pointing out all the reasons he had to stay alive. I couldn’t understand why he didn’t just block her or refuse to reply, but he seemed to feed on the drama, knowing that he could still get a reaction out of her. It pleased him to know that she still hadn’t moved on from their marriage.

He turned to me a lot during these initial stages of our relationship. He reached out for help, and I was always there to help him. It became my job to fix things for him, to make him feel better and offer him a safe place within my heart where he would never be treated so abhorrently. I began to disregard my own valid feelings, to prove that I was different from anyone he had been with before. If I didn’t hear from him for a day, I refrained from asking him why, because I didn’t want to be demanding like his ex-wife. Or when he cancelled our plans at the last minute, I hid my disappointment, otherwise he would think I was possessive like his last girlfriend. I was different, and we had found each other because I could help him find peace.

As he quickly began to establish my love and trust, he just as quickly began testing my boundaries.

During an early conversation, he hinted that he had turned to drugs in the past, to deal with his ex-wife’s terrible treatment. He said the drugs had helped release him from the emotional pain, but he hadn’t used them since. So many lies, conjured up to reel me in, as I later found out he had used methamphetamine the weeks before we met. In fact, according to what he told me later, he had rarely stopped using. The truth was, being high on meth was normal for him, and it had been for a long time. As a narcissist seeking his next supply, the lies came easy. An essential skill in order to fabricate a world to fit his needs.

At the time I was oblivious to all of this, and I believed everything he told me. His fragile mental state during those first few weeks tugged at my heartstrings and resonated with my caring nature, so I began to feel very protective of him. Could I help this wonderful man recover from the pain of his past? Could I show him that life was worth living again? The empath in me, full of compassion for what he had been through, believed so. I was hooked.

Ironically, one day early in our relationship, in a state of depression and self-hate, he sent a message warning me. Telling me how he would eventually embroil me into his chaotic world and bring me down to his level of despair. Promising that I would end up hating him, just like everyone else had. With his message, came the lyrics to a particularly haunting song, describing how he felt about himself. He was a weirdo, a lowlife, a detestable person who didn’t belong with someone kind and compassionate like me.

I told him not to be so silly. I would never hate him, no matter