I Had A Flashback In The Shower Last Night. I Was Able To Tell Her Calmly That It Was Happening And She

I had a flashback in the shower last night. I was able to tell her calmly that it was happening and she held me for a bit which seemed to help.

It was really manageable. Can't say they'll all be like that, but I call that progress.

My city is on the water. I took for granted my unfettered access to the waterfront until somewhat recently.

I spent a lot of time here last year. I read something about how animals "rest, and go to the water" when they are in pain or trying to heal. Typically I don't buy into pop culture renditions of 'self care', but I was desperate to feel anything other than the crushing sense of emptiness.

All silliness aside, I did a lot of healing here. The water was soothing and peaceful. My walks helped clear my head and focus on something other than my self loathing.

I learned to feel ok with my own company. Found a little joy in the world around me, and began to appreciate aspects of my city.

I went on one of those walks today and the weather was just perfect. I feel lighter than i did last year.

A lot has changed.

I feel the need to repost.

We’ve hit Anger, for now

A few years ago, my friend’s city had to be evacuated due to a wildfire. Pictures from the evacuation process look exactly what I (an atheist, and admittedly not a theology expert) picture Hell to look like. It is pure terror.

Once my friend was able to return to her residence she found that it had burned to the ground.  She and her partner had lost everything.

I remember her telling me the frustration she felt  trying to talk about it.  She heard a lot of “but at least you’re ok, it could have been so much worse!” My experience is different than her’s, but I understand her now much more than I did then.

I am Angry.  Yep, Capital A.

When I actually sat down and looked at the numbers, I handed him 6 figures.  I got years of therapy and the prospect of never being right again  nothing.

When I think about how I’m killing myself to pay off debt that I got into to appease him, and scraping pennies together to try to get myself even half way to where I was with him, yeah, I get Angry.  

I am angry for the life he stole from me. 

I’m furious  he’s sitting in MY home, with MY bed and MY furniture, and gifts MY family got us, with MY money lining his bank accounts and MY trinkets and heirlooms that have no real value in this world aside from the memories and connections they have to me lining his shelves and cupboards. 

I have tried to talk about this, and very well meaning people, tell me  “It’s a small price to pay.”   “You’re lucky you got out.”    “It could be so much worse.”

Listen, no one feels my mortality or how “so much worse” it could have been more than me.  You weren’t there when he was threatening me with kitchen knives, putting pillows over my face, smashing my head against walls, pushing me down stairs, or threatening me with tools.

You weren’t there. I was. I know. I get the fucking flashbacks that remind me any time I’m feeling too comfortable.  Do you really think the other stuff is  “a small price to pay?”  You have no idea.  

I know, they mean well, and they’re trying to make me feel better, but they aren’t. They’re trivializing my loss, and making me feel as though I should feel guilty for being angry.

I’m entitled to my rage; I will take it and let it wash over me.

About this time three years ago our his basement flooded which led to us gutting and reframing the basement.

The day it happened, my parents' basement, with whome I was living, also flooded. I had to call into work to help them keep the water at bay.

Then he called and he snapped his fingers and I left my parents and went running over to help him. Only one other person stopped by during the whole process - his dad to drop off a shop vac. No one else came, no one else helped.

When I arrived I walked down the stairs. I could tell he was upset, and I was already anxious but I wanted to try to comfort him.

I opened my mouth to say hello, but didn't get the word out of my mouth before he had punched me in the chest so hard that it knocked me back against the stairs and the wind out of me. He also told me that if I did one thing to upset him, he'd give me a few to the head.

I spent the next 16 hours removing water from his basement along with carpet, flooring, heavy furniture and drywall.

I don't think I spoke.

Try to remember

No matter how much progress you make, there will always be those days that take you back.

There's just fragments of things I used to be and have borrowed from other people

a mess