This Is What A Survivor Looks Like - Tumblr Posts

We’ve hit Anger, for now

A few years ago, my friend’s city had to be evacuated due to a wildfire. Pictures from the evacuation process look exactly what I (an atheist, and admittedly not a theology expert) picture Hell to look like. It is pure terror.

Once my friend was able to return to her residence she found that it had burned to the ground.  She and her partner had lost everything.

I remember her telling me the frustration she felt  trying to talk about it.  She heard a lot of “but at least you’re ok, it could have been so much worse!” My experience is different than her’s, but I understand her now much more than I did then.

I am Angry.  Yep, Capital A.

When I actually sat down and looked at the numbers, I handed him 6 figures.  I got years of therapy and the prospect of never being right again  nothing.

When I think about how I’m killing myself to pay off debt that I got into to appease him, and scraping pennies together to try to get myself even half way to where I was with him, yeah, I get Angry.  

I am angry for the life he stole from me. 

I’m furious  he’s sitting in MY home, with MY bed and MY furniture, and gifts MY family got us, with MY money lining his bank accounts and MY trinkets and heirlooms that have no real value in this world aside from the memories and connections they have to me lining his shelves and cupboards. 

I have tried to talk about this, and very well meaning people, tell me  “It’s a small price to pay.”   “You’re lucky you got out.”    “It could be so much worse.”

Listen, no one feels my mortality or how “so much worse” it could have been more than me.  You weren’t there when he was threatening me with kitchen knives, putting pillows over my face, smashing my head against walls, pushing me down stairs, or threatening me with tools.

You weren’t there. I was. I know. I get the fucking flashbacks that remind me any time I’m feeling too comfortable.  Do you really think the other stuff is  “a small price to pay?”  You have no idea.  

I know, they mean well, and they’re trying to make me feel better, but they aren’t. They’re trivializing my loss, and making me feel as though I should feel guilty for being angry.

I’m entitled to my rage; I will take it and let it wash over me.

It's difficult for me to discern if this anxiety and social panic was a part of me prior to and exacerbated by him, or if this is purely a symptom of him.

Having met him as a teenager I really can't tell what problems were mine to begin with and what he caused.

He has been too much a part of the creation of me.

Tossed out a group invite, included the woman I’m into right now. It’s been 6 minutes and no one’s responded ( or read the message).

My brain is telling me it’s because they hate me and are rolling their eyes at the message preview.

Ah.  Some things haven’t changed

During social engagements I am either:

A) scrambling to find something to say.

B) wondering why i am/chastising myself for talking too much.

There is no happy medium. Whatever i have done is incorrect.

What is this all about?

I don't know what has come over me but I'm feeling compelled to unblock him from Facebook. I don't want to talk, but I just want to snoop.

Nothing good will come of this. So I won't. But this compulsion hasn't hit me in almost a year. Why now?

The difference between me and fully functional adults is that when they make a mistake, they just move on. When I make a mistake, the world crashes around me, the air escapes my lungs and i simultaneously want to hide under my blankets and scream like a banshee out into the void.

I feel unlovable, incapable and inhuman. I want to claw my skin off and jam a stick through the part of my brain that remembers.

My woman has to spend an hour telling me I am still worthy of love and talks me down from running away.

My brain can't yet process that mistakes no longer equal humiliation and pain. And since I'm not getting the punishment on the outside my brain does it to me on the inside.

For any of us thinking we need to try to do this all by ourselves.

Nothing reinforces your sense of self loathing quite like revamping your resume and cover letter.

Typically my lady and I grocery shop together now, and she takes most of the bad feeling away. But tonight she was in the middle of something, so i went on my own.

And there I was looking at the spices realizing the store was out of steak spice when all of it came back. The heart pounding in my chest, the sweating, the sense of looming doom.

And it happed right in the middle of aisle 7.

Hey, a flashback! Good to see you trauma brain; it's been a minute.

I must have looked deranged at the grocery store.

I was always in a RUSH. That was because he gave me a time limit, which was always arbitrary, based on what he considered acceptable. Needless to say, I always took too long, but that didn't stop me from trying to meet his unattainable standards.

I would double check, triple check my grocery list in a panic and talk myself through recipes out loud to ensure I wasn't forgetting any of the ingredients. Owing to the unreasonable time constraints and sleep-deprived state he kept me in, naturally I missed things. And realizing this upon walking in the house would make me break out into a sweat. Imagine being terrified and feeling sick because you forgot to purchase a sweet potato.

Occasionally the store would be out of something we needed. If I tried to explain, he'd accuse me of lying to cover up for being stupid and forgetting something. I started taking pictures of the empty shelves to defend myself, but then he'd ask why i didn't go somewhere else. If I did, there would be a penalty for the extra time it'd take to head to the other store.

There was also immense pressure to get it all done Correctly. What that meant changed week to week, moment to moment. Did i buy the right colour of pepper? He said he wanted turnip, but did he actually mean rutebega? What flavour of chips have i purchased in the last 8 weeks.? He said he wants 'healthy' granola bars but to 'make sure they dont taste like shit' with no further explanation, what does that mean? Getting an answer wrong was BAD. He might throw it at me, or slap me, or scream in my face. Best case was an eye roll with a retreat to the basement.

I made the Wrong Choice so often, the grocery store itself became a trigger.

Some symptoms like to linger.

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.