This.

This.

The truth - a realization

I was amazing in bed because I was hellbent on getting you off quick and the hell off of me.

The propensity for self doubt.

I wrote about this in a message to someone, but I thought it may be an interesting thing to note about my mindset at this time.

When the texts were ramping up last week I went to a woman’s shelter again to get some information on legal and safety options. I brought two friends with me, as in my brain fog I can easily miss some information.

I spoke to a social worker who was really welcoming and understanding.  However, unknowingly, she said something that put me in a tailspin.  It was in her phrasing:

“Do your have records on file from your hospital visits?”

With a clear mind I can guarantee this assumptive question was a simple error, and my friends, who were present, have reaffirmed this. However the floor in my head dropped out.  

I don’t have records because he never put me in the hospital.  

My injuries were never severe enough to send me there, and I never wanted any of this on file.  So I immediately felt as though my circumstances didn’t warrant help and I was being a burden to her, my friends and the system from which I was using resources.

I wanted to leave at that very moment and these thoughts plagued me for days.  All from one sentence.

Another Middle Finger

He forbade me from ever going to a bar again. "There is nothing for you there."

I went dancing tonight for the first time in years. My ears are ringing, my feet hurt, and I had a bit of a panic on the two occasions I was approached by males doing the mating ritual. But I had.... fun?

I might go again.

An Ode to Truth - the missing piece of my heart.

One of the most horrible things he ever made me do was excommunicate one of my nearest and dearest friends.  I love her, and considered her one of my soul sisters. I feel ashamed of a great many things; this may be the top as I have not yet been able to even discuss it with my other friends.

The story that I have available to me is this:

In June of 2016, she asked me point blank if he’d ever hit me.  In a moment of clarity, mania, whatever you want to call it, I was honest.  After all, he kept telling me over and over I should always be honest.

In a moment of stupidity, I told him that I had told her.  I don’t completely remember what he said to me at this time as my brain fogged it up and I no longer have that phone to review the texts.

The gist was that I was a stupid cunt who was trying to shift the blame for my actions to him and that I had just sealed my coffin shut.  He told me that he called her ( and I have no confirmation that this is true) during which time he says she was rude to him (something along the lines of “Don’t call me!  Don’t ever fucking call me!”) and that this was my problem to fix.

Why was I  continuing to smear his reputation and make him look like the bad guy?  What was so wrong with my brain that I could not take responsibility for my actions? The usual chorus of I’m useless, slutty, stupid, etc ensued… You get the picture.  

He insisted that I recant.  I asked him how this fit into being honest all the time.  Exasperated he told me there are certain things you just don’t say; that this would be something we could fix after I had made myself into a “normal” human being.  

I tried to recant.  She,  being a reasonable human being, would not accept the alternative version of events I presented.  Nor the excuses I provided for him. Nor my demand that she support me in my decision to be with him.  She is a bold, brave, headstrong and fierce woman - I have always admired these qualities in her.

Knowing this, he said I had only 1 option:  He called her a bitch.  He told me her boyfriend would eventually leave her and cheat on her because she is unreasonable.  She was going to kill everything around her with her toxicity.

What he meant was that she was dangerous to his position as my lord and master because he could not bend her to his will.

So.  Months later, MONTHS later (November, as a matter of record) after he’d harassed me about it incessantly and told me the my dallying was evidence that I didn’t love him, I sent her a horrible email.

In it, I accuse her of not being supportive or having my interests at heart.  I tell her that anyone who does not accept him, doesn’t accept me, and that I could not call her my friend anymore.  I am accusing and defensive and abusive.  I’m fucking awful.

I wanted to die when I sent that email. Yet I sent it anyways. She never responded.  Who could blame her.

I miss her.  And while I think there are a number of relationships that can be repaired, I don’t think I could ever really make this one right again.

I’m at a bit of a loss for what to do.

For Canadian income tax preparation you are issued a document from each of your employers called a T4.  This document summarizes your income from that employer for the year, plus other things like your employer and government pension contributions, gov’t benefit deductions, income tax paid to date, etc.

One of my (past) employers last year, despite multiple emails, failed to change my home address.  So, guess where the damn thing went. 

Good news:  I don’t need this thing - employers not only have to send it to their employees, they have to send a copy to Canada Revenue which makes all your tax documents available to you online.

Bad news:  This document has lots of juicy personal information that identity thefts just love like my social insurance number (My gov’t issued ID number) and full name. Safe to say in someone’s vindictive hands, this document can cause me some serious headaches down the road.

I’m sure he feels he has me by the proverbial balls, here.  What a perfect way to force me to speak to him.  Here are my options so far as I can see:

1. Not respond: Run the risk of him posing my info on the likes of reddit or 4chan. 

2. Respond by email: Ask him to shred it.  Run the risk of him not doing so and posting my info on the likes of reddit or 4chan anyway. Also spark correspondence back and forth that could could and likely would turn ugly. 

3. Respond by email: Ask him to return to sender which would allow me to confirm with my previous employer that the document was returned unopened. Run the risk of him not doing so and posting my info on the likes of reddit or 4chan anyway. Also spark correspondence back and forth that could and likely would turn ugly.

4. Respond by email: Force a family member to speak to him and pick up the document.  Oh man, I can just see the walls of text I’d receive after that “humiliation”...

5. Respond by email:  Set up a time to pick up said document from him myself.  Possible scene. Possible assault.  Possible murder.  Likely traumatizing.  Certainly my least favourite option, but the only way I can ensure I get it back.

Any words of wisdom? Thoughts?

P.S. He’s not blocked, it’s just just been almost two months since I’ve responded.