I Have Healed A Great Deal Since My First Post Here. It Is A Relief That I Have Been Able To Make Such

I have healed a great deal since my first post here. It is a relief that I have been able to make such progress, when, at the beginning, I was certain I was going to remain in my high-alert, traumatized state forever.

However that does make some flashbacks and other trauma symptoms a bit more jarring when they do appear.  Some days you feel almost... normal?  But something will take you back and remind you that you aren’t, and that you’ll never be completely “normal” again.

I was more accustomed to that notion when I was in the thick of the worst bits, and having such a disaster-brain all the time made me not have a “normal” to miss. But now, I have good days to mourn.

I feel spoiled for even posting this, especially when I read from people who are still in early healing days. But I guess that's further evidence of how we're not quite there yet.

Food was always a Thing

He'd tell me he was bored with the food I made so I'd find a new recipe. He would criticise everything about it, say it looked disgusting and ask why I was so stupid.

So he'd give me one to try, I'd make it and he'd love it. If I made it again, it was never as good as the first time. If I made it again he hated it. If I never made it again he would tell me that he loved it and I was withholding it because I was lazy/a cunt.

FuuuuUUUUUCCCKKK

One of my clients is someone he used to work with. They've kept in touch. Dan doesn't keep friends very well, but they're friendsish.

This very vague and loose connection was irksome at first, as my ex could have used him to attempt to fish for information about me. I've relaxed a lot since then he's always remained focused on the business and never asked any probing or suspicious questions. All of the information he had access to was stuff my ex already knew, so no additional risk.

Well.

I stopped by his house to pick up some documents today and there's a person i know from my theatre group sitting on his couch. They met on Bumble and have been dating for 6 months.

We're not best friends or anything, but she's on my Facebook and has seen pics of me and my woman together. She knows I've moved just outside of my city. She knows I'm involved in a theatre production right now. She knows things that could trickle down to my ex through my client that would give him more information.

She may even say something off hand that would be damning. Like how I'm queer. I have no idea how he would react to news like that, but I'd bet money it wouldn't be good.

No longer a low risk connection. And I'm fucking LOSING IT. AGAIN.

This is the reminder card for my follow up appointment after my abortion. I've kept it since receiving it in the last few days of 2016. My woman asked why I've kept so many things that hurt and remind me of terrible times.

These scraps corroborate my story. If I don't keep them, the terrible things that have happened to me just become a figment of my imagination; another false excuse as to why I'm not a better adjusted Adult.

Furthermore, and probably the darker side of my trauma response, I've felt I deserve the misery these memories stir up. Comfort is not something I'm entitled to given my sins and finding reminders of that is part of how I can atone. Real pain is penance after all.

I told her. She said all of the right things. The kind, supportive words we all allow to bounce off of us; so unlike the things he would have said, which I would have allowed to soak into my core.

But I will try a little harder, and today I shredded this damn thing.

A Moment.

I will take this time to celebrate a big thing:  I am officially out of debt.  

It took a little longer than I had anticipated (15 months longer) and a lot longer than I would have liked.  But I pulled myself out of the hole he tried to bury me in.

He left me with so many injuries, but come hell or high water, they will all be healed.

I'm lying in bed next to my amazing woman, who, moments ago, i woke up so that she'd hold me while I sobbed. For no reason that I can confirm. I am calm now and I feel her drifting off next to me. It's peaceful.

I spent so many nights attempting to pace away my anxiety and dread in the basement alone. I didn't want the creaky floorboards in our old house to wake him.

Waking him was always bad. Especially if I was looking for comfort. His demons were to be soothed, attended and deferred to. Mine, likely only an excuse for my shortcomings, were mine. What business were they of his?