The Next Step.

The next step.

So what’s next? You heal. You grow. And you help others.

One time he nearly choked me out because he wore one of his socks inside out.

I wish I could say this wasn't true anymore. While I can say it hurts less, I can't even confirm that it happens less frequently.

It's incredibly upsetting that despite moving on and finding the most gentle and kind person to be with, he still pervades my thoughts.

I still think about him basically every time I get a quiet moment: in a fitting room, at a red light, in my office, in the shower.

Recovery is a bitch.

I was off for a few months owing to covid. It was the first time I have taken an extended breath since I was a teenager.

It gave the trauma time to catch up to me. I feel it all. I am so damn tired.

He used to tell me that if I tried to say no to sex that I was being manipulative. My witholding was "punishing" him in an emotionally abusive way.

So I'd wipe the tears off my face, take a few deep breaths and let him have whatever he wanted.

I can smile and turn on the charm and climb on top of your dick five minutes after you called me a useless cunt. I’m so good at at “ getting over it ” for you; I can swallow my pain and rage for an eternity.

I am organizing and shredding paperwork today. It's an insurmountable task and it makes me sick to my stomach. It's the only chore that gives me irrefutable proof of failures and horrible memories.

I have found so many things with both of our names on it still. Every time I think I've got it all, I find another stash.