Now I’m here…

Happy Friday. How are you? Ready to wrap this (for now?)…

I did get out of that terrible relationship, but not because I was strong enough to break free. I got out because he left me. I got out because he found someone else and married her. I got out because I didn’t have a choice.

I was broken. I hated myself. I hated every decision I had ever made. I finally didn’t miss him or want him, but I also didn’t know who to turn to for my truth. Without him, I felt untethered. Everyone was telling me how strong I was, how resilient. I didn’t feel any of those things. I felt like an old building. Strong frame with crumbling walls.

I had fallen apart and I had not the faintest idea how to put myself back together. Just as I found my breath, I was knocked down again.

Life is okay. He got married to the woman he was with whilst we were still together.

Life is okay. He dumped all of my shit in the vestibule of my apartment building and texted me saying it was ‘for the best’.

I was rolling around in a tidal wave, incapable of catching my breath or grabbing solid footing. I was the most tired I had ever been. I didn’t desire strength or courage or someone else. I just wanted to get through each day without pain. And one day, many days from that day. I wanted to know that I would maybe trust another person again, one day.

I can’t though. Not really. I’m hoping I will, but right now, I can’t. It’s still too hard. YEARS later. I still feel too scared to make myself vulnerable. I have done so much work on myself. I have grown to learn to identify red flags. I have grown to learn to speak up and want what I want. And still, I am afraid that I will forget everything I have learned. I am afraid that I will get close to someone and they will hurt me. I am mostly afraid that I won’t recover the next time, not really.

I know I will survive. I am a survivor. I love life, more than anything or anyone. I will not thrive though. I will curl deeper into a ball and I will never come out again.

It’s not just men, you see, though they are certainly the bulk of it. It’s people. I don’t trust people.

I recognize in the most basic “I’m an intelligent human” way that this might no way to live, and yet, I know that it’s how I have to live temporarily. I have to keep my guard up. I have to keep people at arms’ length. I have to take my time and measure my words and pay close attention to what others have to say and also, and more importantly, what they do.

I was not physically hurt. My heart bleeds for humans who are physically harmed by other humans. Bleeds. I cannot fathom what that is like because I have thankfully never been put in that position. I would never try and compare or contrast. That’s ridiculous and nonsensical.

All I know is that the emotional and mental abuse that I suffered left scars. Long-lasting, deep-rooted scars. I have a sort of emotional PTSD. The things that get other people excited (oooh, I think he likes me), terrify me. The things that people look forward to (profound human connection), cause me anxiety. There are triggers that will stay with me for a long time. There are words that are used, even in jest, that I cannot bear to hear. They fall on my skin like shards of broken, jagged glass. I cannot stand being told I’m difficult or complicated or too much. These things can be true from time to time, but when I hear them, I feel physically ill. I remember the moments where those slights were whispered. Deadly barbs carelessly passed with the intention to harm.

I still apologize too often and disclaimer more often than that. There are so many parts of me that I want to revisit and rewrite and change. Not the past. I was meant to live through everything I suffered through. But, me.

I can’t though. I mean, I can, but only in the way that happens after. Only in the way that makes you rethink things. Rethink everything. Only in the way where you think ‘if only I had been that person, things would have been different’. Would they though? Would they have been different? Probably not. That’s not the way it works.

Some days I feel extraordinarily tired. I wish that things would just be easier. I wish I could flit about and do what I wanted and connect haphazardly. I wish I didn’t question and second guess. I wish I didn’t automatically assume the worst. I wish so many things. Mostly, if I’m honest, I hope that I find a way to prevent as much hurt as possible. Even if that means separation. Even if that means a loss of connection. Even then.

What’s my point? Shitty things come in different forms. They do. There is no cookie cutter perfect image for what a horrible relationship looks like. All kinds of abuse can be sneaky. They grow and escalate and morph. They work around strengths and seek weaknesses. They can swallow you alive before you’ve had a chance to realize the profound impact had on your body and mind and soul.

You can save you, but it isn’t easy. There are so many considerations. Thoughts about what your life will be without that person. Possible dependents. Financial entanglements. Obligations. So much mess. But, in that chaos, there is room to sort it out, to break free, to find a way. It’s so fucking hard. I didn’t do it. I waited to be left. Next time I won’t. I know that for sure.

You aren’t alone though. Or your friend. Or your family member. Or your co-worker. There are resources. Turn to your people. If you don’t have people, there are other people that can help. Always. Don’t give up. Stay strong. Focus on getting through, not just getting by. If you need help, here are just a few options:

Reach a Crisis Counselor by texting HOME to 741741

https://hotline.womenslaw.org/

National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1 (800) 799 – 7233

There are so many more. This is just a taste. An idea. A thin line of hope.

Hang in there. Have a good weekend.

More soon.

X

L.