A Friend Of Mine Saw Him At The Grocery Store. That Feeling In My Chest Is Back, And All She Did Was

A friend of mine saw him at the grocery store. That feeling in my chest is back, and all she did was tell me about it.

He was with a woman; we think it's the same woman he took on what was supposed to be our vacation ( the one I predominantly paid for). That means she's been around for a little more than two years.

I am really struggling right now with guilt. She's probably seen him for what he is by now. And I'm sorry for that. What if I had had a spine back then and told her. Does she need help now?

I feel I should reach out.

Golden

An abused person masters the art of silence.  You sob quietly, scream quietly, pick yourself up from the ground and assess your injuries quietly.  You discover a way to perform all your tasks making as little noise as possible.

You forget the sound of your voice, and all the little sounds of life become a deafening crime you hope go unnoticed.

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 watched something that pulled on my heart strings too hard earlier today and I can feel myself sinking into a hole. So I'm attempting to cheer myself up by telling my lady as many dad jokes as I can get my hands on. Her groans from the other room are breathing life back into me.

Got any good ones?

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?

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.