He Used To Tell Me That If I Tried To Say No To Sex That I Was Being Manipulative. My Witholding Was

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.

Silly things I was not allowed to keep on my person ( off the top of my head):

A hair elastic on my wrist.

A purse (but he'd be so angry if I wasn't wearing one and he needed me to hold his stuff.)

A jacket when he thought it was too warm.

A sweater when I said he kept the ac too high in the summer.

Sandals.

Things he required me to have:

Tame, managed hair in all potential scenarios.

A purse, but only when he needed me to hold something and I needed to anticipate that before we left. Somehow.

A jacket in case it got cool. He didn't want to have to hear me complain.

Money for the extra hydro bill in the summer when i made him turn the ac so low.

High heel sandals.

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.

“Healing is layers. Healing is time. Healing is excruciating. Once you think it’s done, it’s not.”

— Mary DeMuth (via i-am-strong-all-on-my-own)

I wrote this post in the early weeks of freedom. Nearly three years later I'm still discovering new impacts of the damage.

Rinse, repeat.  Rinse, repeat.

I have started writing a number of my posts with “The worst thing about an abusive relationship is….” and then having to erase it because it isn’t true.  I can’t call this particular aspect or experience the worst thing.  It’s all the worst thing.