Enoughdonegone - It's Not Fine.

Pita Bread

I had a flashback yesterday as I was putting some take out in the fridge.

He threw me out of the house (physically) onto our concrete steps one night without my shoes, keys, wallet or cell because I had put pita in the fridge.

He didn’t like it cold - it got too stiff.

Nothing tastes as good...

TW - for ED perhaps?  

He was superb at exacerbating issues and insecurities I already had.

I have a love/hate relationship with my body.  Rationally I can say that I am an athletic woman and even at my heaviest I was not overweight. And even if I was, I personally do not find a person’s size has any bearing on whether or not they are attractive.  But when I look at myself in the mirror, all I see are problems that require fixing.

I’ve talked a bit about anxiety, magical thinking, and my propensity for self harm as punishment. These seeds I believe were planted before he came into the picture.  However he kept them well watered.

First it was about food:  There was the nonsense about me doing all of the cooking.  Following that, he would get angry if I did not have dinner on the table exactly when he wanted it regardless of how unreasonable that expectation was. So the solution was to go out to eat a lot (and wait for someone else to cook the meal? Just one of those illogical things I didn’t question).

I like eating out - variety is great, and I can usually find something tasty that is at least marginally healthy. Yeah, that often means salads, but I promise you it’s not a bad way to go if you know how to order.  

However he wasn’t having it.  Salads tend to be about the same price as an entree, or as he put it "expensive for nothing." Money was always a concern for us me, particularly at the beginning of our cohabitation when we were broke.

So I had to start ordering food that he deemed appropriate. I put on a bit of weight.  And, boy, he loved to tell me about it.  Sometimes it was direct, like when he told me it looked like I'd  had a baby knowing fully that my stomach was the part of my body that I was most insecure about.  Other times it was a bit more subtle - checking out women, or sending me pictures of women he thought were outrageously attractive who were all quite thin and noticeably thinner than me.  

The worst by far was the sinister and vindictive things. Like when he would grab some “fat” during sex and wink at me.  Or talk about how guys in his industry have it so rough because their wives let themselves go and then wonder why their husbands turn to escorts for satisfaction.

My reaction was probably not shocking:  I went through a very destructive phase of extreme calorie deficient eating.  

It was the perfect way to hurt myself.

Refresher. 20.5 weeks no contact.

Every day I remind myself that I should mourn for the past I lost to him and not the future I think I’ve lost without him.  

My hands are shaking.

I only need a minute after you’re done kicking me while I cower in fetal position.  I just need to steady my breathing after you’ve finished and left me in a pile. I’ll get back to making dinner and it’ll be ready soon. Don’t worry.