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My age also may be a factor, but I feel that the more secrets I let go of and tell the fewer fucks I have to give.

No joy.

I'm A Song of Ice and Fire fan and he and I watched GOT together. I thought it was because he wanted to keep something exclusively for us; untainted by others and something we could bond over. In retrospect, he probabaly just wanted to be able to ask questions so he'd know what was happening.

I was so excited he actually cared about something I liked that I used to sort of gush and share theories I'd heard or thought of. This was short lived. He responded that he didn't think about the show after turning it off. He also told me that I was wasting my limited brain power on something stupid and should be focusing on important things. Like making more money.

On it's own, this isn't horrible, but it does speak to his lack of interest or respect for the things that made me happy. It also made me feel sad and ashamed.

He never let me me enjoy anything. I still get embarrassed when I get too excited about something.

... as skinny feels.

TW - ED, self harm 

I’ve had part of this drafted since I wrote part one.  I’ve come to the conclusion  this left more scars than I was inclined to admit.

Quick catch up: He exacerbated an already problematic cognitive pathway in my brain and exploited it to manipulate me.  In short (and very simplified): Bad Thing Happened means Pain = penance = possible redemption.

So I found interesting ways to punish myself that wouldn’t raise flags.  Severely limiting my calorie intake was perfect: it made him shame me less and caused discomfort to punish myself for things that I was doing at the time (ie, cheating)

I am still struggling with the idea that I had an eating disorder;  the narratives I’ve read don’t appear to apply to me. But some things definitely match.  I have some form of dysmorphia, for example.  I have never been diagnosed.  But I can’t look at pictures of myself without cringing, and my self body image is definitely distorted.  

I got very thin. I dropped down to a point that was unhealthy. I never weighed myself because I didn’t have a scale.  But things stuck out.  Yet still, I felt there were things that required shaving off.

He loved me that thin.  Couldn’t get enough of me. But he wasn’t the only one.

I never received so many compliments as I did when I was literally in the throws of some of the most self destructive shit I’ve ever done.  For months, my daily intake was 500 calories a day or less . I went a few whole days without eating anything and was so proud of myself when I got into bed those nights.

The whole experience was extremely disturbing looking back on it.  I refused to eat outside of 11am and 3pm.  I was obsessed with food - I still know the calories in almost everything I eat. And if I don’t, I still check. My muscles always hurt. I was always cold, sometimes shaking, and always thinking about the next meal.  I got dizzy easily, and giddy delirious.  In my head, these side effects were great - a free high.

I don’t know why I stopped, but it was always temporary in my head. I felt like if I just reached the sweet spot with a perfect 6 pack that he would be nicer.  That he would treat me like he loved me.

After he had kicked me out and I had commenced with therapy I told him that I talked to my therapist about it.  He told me two things that night: 

That I made him look really bad because he didn’t notice that his spouse was struggling with an eating disorder, and, a few hours later 

that he and I always ate dinner together (lie, he was on afternoons and had dinner when he got home at 11pm or midnight, see the Hours of Acceptable Eating above) and I always eat a lot.  So this was a figment of my imagination and I was a liar.

Not only did it never happen, I took the opportunity to, once again, smear his character.  That night ended in violence.

Hah.

when you can sense a Mood incoming and feel like a farmer standing in a field looking out at the horizon as the storm approaches like “looks like it’s gonna be a bad one, boys”

I use objects sometimes. Toys, enhancers, paraphernalia.

I use just my hands other times.  Or a blanket, or a pillow.

I take my time. I explore. I learn.

I smile when I’m getting close.

I laugh through my orgasms.

I feel no guilt.

I feel sexy. I feel power. I feel whole.

Never again will this body be bound to you.

From December to Now.  This is what progress looks like.

I masturbate now.

Since you found out the depths of my depravity, I found myself feeling sick when the fire within me flickered.

Not anymore. I will nourish the flame without guilt.

Hey, I just wanted to say that your blog really gave me new hope and you’re such a strong and inspiring person. I „just“ suffered emotional abuse, so I cannot even imagine the hell you went through, but I’m glad you made it! Have a nice day :)

Hello there! Sorry for the delayed response. I can get overwhelmed by nice gestures and be at a loss for a response. Thank you for reaching out - it’s not always easy. I’m sorry you connect with anything in my blog, but I’m glad if you’ve found it helpful in any way.

Thank you for the compliments. I don’t always feel strong, and I certainly didn’t at the beginning. There are days where…well there are still some really bad days. Healing and recovery are gradual and you can’t rush them. You are strong too, it’s inside of you. You may only see it when you look back weeks/months/ years from now. But I promise that you are.

Sorry, I’m exhausted and rambling. Feel free to reach out any time.