Surviving - Tumblr Posts
I picked a day where i was too exhausted from working around the house to care much and threw them out.
Another piece of him has been wiped from my life .
He did not understand sentimental value. I keep little things that people give me or that remind me of special times.
Some people keep pictures in this way. These things are fabrics in the tapestry of your history But not to him. Junk. Hoarding. Wasting space.
His mom gave him old pictures of him and his family. He didn't care and was really angry when I insisted we keep them. So he made me hold on to them, and here I am still holding on to them out of guilt.
These things are all sacred. I am having such a terrible time trying to throw them out.
Bringing this one back. I've been reading some irritating things. Fellow survivors, I'm afraid some of you may need to take notes too.
Here’s an idea:
(Sorry friends, this is an angry one)
Maybe you should fuck off trying to tell survivors how they should feel about their abusers. Here’s a few reasons why:
1. You don’t know shit about us or our stories.
2. Your experience does not in any way dictate or predict the experiences of others.
3. Many survivors have been taught not to trust themselves. You are contributing to this problem with condescending advice that contradicts our instincts and mental health needs.
4. The way we feel can change throughout the grieving/healing/recovery process. It’s confusing enough on its own; we don’t need your uninformed opinion further muddying the waters. We need to work this out.
5. Some of us can only move forward through forgiveness and reconciliation. Some of us can only forge ahead fueled by our rage and hate. Some of us fall somewhere in the middle. These are all acceptable and reasonable.
6. Only we can decide what is best for us. You do not know what is best for us.
She's upstairs baking while I'm in the basement wrapping presents. I keep laughing as I'm scrambling to hide her gifts every time she comes down to make me do 'quality control."
Four years ago I couldn't even imagine a life this peaceful.
For those of you still stuck in an impossible situation, I promise you can also have a quiet little life. Amd you deserve it.
A life where you won't find yourself involuntarily holding your breath when they come into a room. A life where you don't have to question what you remember or what you think. A life where people make you feel comfortable and confident in who you are.
There is a life out there that doesn't include them. I hope that soon you'll believe that, even with its challenges, that life will be beautiful and so much better than the hell you're living now.
I hope that for all of you.
She's upstairs baking while I'm in the basement wrapping presents. I keep laughing as I'm scrambling to hide her gifts every time she comes down to make me do 'quality control."
Four years ago I couldn't even imagine a life this peaceful.
Daymare
I had one yesterday. That's the only way I can describe it.
I was back in the house Spring 2015ish. I was in my current headspace, though, like I used a time machine. I was hellbent on getting out as soon as possible, but I figured it would take me two days to orchestrate.
My plan was detailed: how to get and where to find boxes (cold room - he rarely went in there), how to move everything, (bring some to folks night before) who would help me, (two friends chomping at the bit to get me out of there), and what I would do differently (take ALL of my things, sell the house, take my share)
What made it horrible was the realization that I had to suffer him for that time.
I'd have to talk to him. I'd have to have sex with him to keep him from being suspicious, and then share a bed. Then I'd have to break the news: he’d no longer have me to abuse.
The feelings I had knowing he was near came back by a fraction, and I was sick. I spent over an hour huddled in the shower.
How on earth did I live like that for so long?
Lights at the end of tunnels
From time to time I receive messages from survivors at various stages in the recovery process.
First, I am honoured that you trust me with your stories (some of you telling someone for the first time!), and that you think I may have something of value to say to you.
Second, I’m sorry I don’t always respond promptly. I can get overwhelmed easily and that slows my response time. Sometimes by, like, months.
Third, if there is one thing I wish I could have convinced myself of earlier it would be that being alone is not the worst. It takes practice, but it can be pretty great.
You are awesome (yes, I promise), and spending time nurturing your interests can be an amazing part of your healing. Someone tried to erase my personality; I took it back, piece by piece, doing new things or re-discovering the old ones that make me happy.
Being beholden to no one is freedom, and it was important for me to get to know, sort out, and trust my head again.
Alone there are so many possibilities that don’t exist in the vacuum of an abusive relationship. So many possibilities for a content, peaceful existence.
I hope you believe me.
Happy New Year.
Au revoir
The memories feature on Facebook can feel like a kick to the stomach sometimes. But they can also remind you that you were brave enough to take out the trash. Even if it took you a little longer than it should have.
The stronger you get, the stronger they expect you to be.
Double Standards Series - Episode 5
He could be pretty gross.
His belching ranged from ground shaking to ear piercing. He farted anywhere he liked, and as loud as he wanted. He would hock loogies all the time.
This is all forgivable. Human beings are disgusting.
The problem was, that it wasn’t forgivable for me to be human. One time, I had snot on the outside of my nose in public, and he made such a big deal about it so other people noticed to embarrass me.
I didn’t fart in his presence. Ever. I would go outside, or go to the washroom, or go to any room away from him where he wouldn’t hear it.
Still anytime there was ever a bad smell, it was always be my fault. He would look at me with disgust on his face and say my name with disdain. He would then accuse me of lying and force me to apologize when I insisted that I didn’t ‘do it.’ It was extra special if he could do it in public.
This might sound trivial, but it was a big part of my life. And it was humiliating. I had to fit into a neat and tidy and wholly unrealistic image of femininity that meant that I couldn’t even be comfortable in my home.
It reminded me how completely inept I was at being a woman and a wife.
My safety net was there and I had help and support. That’s why I am safe now.
Some survivors are not so lucky. Please help this person if you can.
May 8, 2021 (CW for abuse)
This is still my situation at home, with my partner.
For those who don’t know me, I’m Miriam. I’m 22. I’m a mostly-closeted trans woman in an abusive relationship. I’m trying to scrape together some funds to safely leave. A friend started a PayPal pool for me at the beginning of the year and I made this blog. Since then I’ve made some preparations, talked to a counselor, and I may have a temporary place to stay if I’m able to leave.
So, I could still use more help. Lack of money and a social safety net around me are what’s holding me back the most now. My car, despite my best efforts, is on its deathbed. At this point it would cost about as much to fix it as it’d be to scrap it and just buy another one. I still have medical bills piled up. I’d like to save up for staying somewhere more permanently someday. I’d still like to start taking steps to transition once I’m in a better place. I’d like to feel safe.
I’ll leave a link to the PayPal pool. Anything helps, including reblogs. You can donate anonymously and without having a PayPal account.
Tagging some blogs in hopes for this to gain some traction, but no pressure. Thank you all. ❤️
@trans-mom @bihet-dragonize @ndiecity @girlfriendluvr @lezzyharpy @thebibliosphere @justsomeantifas @one-time-i-dreamt @lesbonic-ebonics @closet-keys @socialistexan @peetbools @butchniqabi @omegaverse @bill-nye-official-blog
Today in Review
Me: I have a lot of work to get done today, and people are depending on me. Oh shoot, I have two appointments that will interrupt my day too. I should probably get started.
Brain: Maybe you should panic and do nothing for four hours instead.
Me: ... well, no, if I plan and start n....
Brain: PANIC AND DO NOTHING FOR FOUR HOURS!!!
I have gone 194 weeks without contacting him.
Unfortunately, I still think about him often, but everytime I do I try to remember to take a deep breath and focus on exhaling fully.
It releases my chest muscles; a thing that I could never do with him.
The memories I have of him and the abuse blur and refocus seemingly at random, so it can be difficult to consciously remember a specific thing at a given time.
But that feeling of my ribs being seemingly sewn shut endures and serves as the reference point for my progress.
It's been 194 weeks and I can breathe now.
Weaponized incompetence. It has a name. Huh.
Phew!
When we were teenagers, our plan was to “leapfrog”. He was going to make a certain amount of money, and then I would have to do whatever I could to find a job that made more money. Then we would reverse and repeat.
I finished university in 2010. The job market was BLEAK. He worked in the trades, and I had a philosophy degree. Naturally, I worked in retail, and made no where near what he did. He continued to move up in his position, and so did I, but I could never catch him. Throughout the years, this was the number one excuse he used to harm me.
Things have improved since then, though I still don’t make as much money as he did. Recently, I wondered what would have happened if I had “leapfrogged” like he’d wanted me to. Then I remembered a story.
About 10-12 years ago I applied to work for the RCMP.
(Don’t judge me man, I was young and desperate. I also had some romantic notion that I could help SA survivors as a detective. Knowing what I know now about the institution, I am VERY glad it didn’t work out for me )
He was furious with me for applying; he said he hated cops, but I think he hated the idea of me having authority (and access to a weapon) more.
Then he let his plans slip. He told me if I became an RCMP officer, he would wait until I made excellent money and then leave me. Then he would cash in on the spousal support and take money from me forever.
So sorry that didn’t work out you, brah. I hope the woman you’re with now leaves you and takes every cent you have.
A prevailing symptom of my abuse is not believing myself when I don't feel well.
Today I am going to bed early. My body is feeling symptoms of stress, and it’s high time I started listening to it.
I always assume that everyone struggles with confidence at one time or another. So I ask myself, do I actually have residue from the abuse or do I just lack resilience?
I’m sure you know how my brain answers.
Hang on.
It has been 1806 days no contact.
I was sitting down the other day fretting about mine and my partner’s precarious employment situation. Her company is outsourcing their IT , and mine is operating in a small town in which it has historically struggled to find clients. it’s not dire, we have a few years before this will become an imminent problem.
But while I was staring at our finances and looking for places to tighten up, I realized that I was feeling ‘normal’ worry. The worry you feel when you have a concern and you need to find ways to mitigate the problem.
That’s not the kind of worry I’m used to.
More than anything, the feeling I had was “we’ll handle it.” I have never thought I could handle anything in my life.
That “gets better” they talk about is worth the shit you’re going through now. Promise.
Since covid, I’ve been in conversations where my mind has just gone blank. “What have you been up to?” “How have you been?”
It’s back to “I have no idea. I exist, I guess.” If only I could actually say that.
a mess
Someone should address the people who say hateful things and make cartoonishly bad arguments. But I'm not that someone.
There are professionals and people much smarter than me to take out that trash.
I lived with an abuser for a decade; I recognize manipulation and when someone isn't arguing in good faith.
They use the same tactics. So I'll deal with them the way I dealt with the abuser.
A question for the abuse survivors, did you lose the ability to recognize when you're happy? I feel like someone took an eraser to my amygdala.
Did you get yours back?