My Response To The Event I Described In My Last Post. After This Event I Sent Him A Whole Bunch Of Ignored

My response to the event I described in my last post. After this event I sent him a whole bunch of ignored texts like" hey can I help you today?" And " i miss you" and loads of other humiliating stuff. It's not terribly interesting and there's plenty other humiliating things to come so we'll jump forward to his response two days later:

Aftermath

I didn't stop talking to him immediately after that message he sent me.  Truth be told, he’d ‘cut me off’ a number of times prior to that. We actually had a set of boundaries and expectations in place for just these sorts of occasions.

The last time he'd insisted we cease speaking, after the initial shock and flood of texts I sent him, I stopped texting him altogether.  He messaged me after a few days of silence and accused me of getting over him. 

So for the next 6 weeks or so, I texted him every day. Here’s some highlights of my shame:

Milestone

It has been a year since I've had sex.

A Big Event

I was going to try to wait until closer to the actual anniversary to release a series of posts about being cut off. But then I realized it’s been all consuming for a few days and I need it out of my brain. 

In the evening of October 20, 2017, I performed my daily duty of driving from home after deciding on a healthy meal option to a restaurant to pick up take out.  From there I drove to the outskirts of town to the new shop he worked at to bring him lunch.  I’d have to meet him in the parking lot of a coffee shop down the road, though, because he didn’t want any of his coworkers to see me.

I was still an embarrassment to him.

I got into his car, greeted him warmly and cautiously handed him his lunch .  He glared at me, opened the bag, saw his food and then screamed “Stay the fuck away from me!!!”

I promptly got out of his car.  Stunned.  He kept the food of course.

Moving Parts.

Our next home after the place in the county was the house we purchased.  It should have been an exciting time, but I dreaded everything about it. I pushed away all of the clear bad thoughts, but every part of me knew this was a horrible idea.

So I dragged my feet packing. This led to one of the worst moments of violence.

One of our last nights before moving out he lost it.  He was angry he was doing most of the packing. It was true; I tried to argue that a lot of what I had to pack we still needed (kitchen stuff, etc) and that I was furious when he started packing my things. I attempted to stand my ground.

My brain fogged this up pretty good.  I remember being dumbfounded by his rage and that this was actually happening to me.

He kicked my legs up from underneath me.  He threw me up against the wall.  He choked me.  He lifted me up off the ground by my neck and spitscreamed in my face. He threw me over boxes of our things causing damage we had to lie about later. He tackled me to the ground, smashed my head off of it and then kicked me multiple times as he got up. He punched me in the stomach.

He chased me into the kitchen and warned me to stay away from him because he couldn’t control himself.  

I don’t remember at all how this situation resolved, and I have no idea what lies I told myself to get into bed with him that night.

The Twelfth

For about three years we lived on a county road.  Our home was a detached “mother-in-law” suite on the property of a woman who really didn’t know how to maintain property.  

We had countless issues that never got resolved: the hot water heater purged itself onto the floor semi-regularly, the heat would suddenly and unexpectedly cease causing our pipes to freeze, the ceiling had holes in it that were supposed to be fixed before we moved in (hah) and we had a mouse problem like you’ve never seen.

He got me in the habit of romanticizing living in the middle of no where.  Parts of it I really did enjoy; I used to love running out there at night.  It was also quiet at night and dark, plus I could lay out on the back porch naked and no one was the wiser. 

But some of the very worst moments of my life are out there.

All those issues I listed above became the list of grievances he had against me.  We had to deal with these problems because I still wasn’t making enough money, and that was because I was a lazy stupid cunt with no ambition and no respect for him and how hard he had to work.

He screamed at me so hard some times that he gave himself a nose bleed.  I didn’t even know that was possible. The physical abuse really gained a foothold here, too.  

Which made sense.  There were fewer neighbours to hear me crying.