Traumatized - Tumblr Posts

Should have said:

Listen pal, there's only enough room on this block for one Fuck Up (tm) and the position has been filled. GTFO!

That did not take long. He just stopped me in the street as I was walking to my car.

I ducked out by saying I didn’t have time to talk. I would have humoured him before. Maybe flirted. The thought makes me sick now.

Woo! Progress!

It can difficult at times for me to regulate my emotions. They often come in these rushing, overwhelming surges that are impossible to guage.

So I have been in situations like today, where I'm waiting to see the dentist, and I am struggling to hold back tears because I'm feeling unworthy, incapable and unloved. There have been plenty of times where I have lost the battle and full out sobbed in public.

This is embarrassing, but it's not the worst thing that has ever happened. Occasionally my stress-and-agony-exhausted body decides to release tension in other ways.

Have you ever sort of lost it and had a full out uncontrollable evil-scientist laugh attack in public?

“But you seem so put together.”

I’m not going to lie.  When I tell people that mentally I am a pile of disaster, there are plenty who are shocked.

It makes me want to laugh and cry at the same time.  You all get to see that I am actually a human puddle, and not at all put together - so I laugh.

But it also puts more pressure on me to keep up the facade, because apparently it’s working.  And that is just exhausting.

I bet she was asking for it.

I mean, you can totally tell it's what she actually wanted. Her mouth was saying no, but the bruises on her skin where he grabbed her and held her against her will were saying yes.

Seriously @staff - why do i have to keep doing this?

I am a survivor of domestic violence. I am a survivor of sexual violence. I have said " let go of me" and been ignored. Stop showing me abuse and calling it sexy.

All I can think of when I’m trying to add the bio is:  Hi, I’m broken.  Don’t make sudden movements when we’re in close proximity. I may lose my shit if we have sex. I will probably cry hard for no apparent reason.  In public.  And there’s a 60% chance I’ll ghost you without warning.  Oh and I like hiking, reading and food n shit.

I’ve just impulsively installed Tinder. Someone talk me out of this.

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.

Still

Fifteen years later.  I don’t really remember who I was before I met him.  

A friend of mine saw him at the grocery store. That feeling in my chest is back, and all she did was tell me about it.

He was with a woman; we think it's the same woman he took on what was supposed to be our vacation ( the one I predominantly paid for). That means she's been around for a little more than two years.

I am really struggling right now with guilt. She's probably seen him for what he is by now. And I'm sorry for that. What if I had had a spine back then and told her. Does she need help now?

I feel I should reach out.

Golden

An abused person masters the art of silence.  You sob quietly, scream quietly, pick yourself up from the ground and assess your injuries quietly.  You discover a way to perform all your tasks making as little noise as possible.

You forget the sound of your voice, and all the little sounds of life become a deafening crime you hope go unnoticed.

His idea of being right was to be the meanest in an argument.

You don't have to tackle opposing irrefuteable facts if you keep your opponent choking back sobs.

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.

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.

How It Feels

Part II: Emotionally Abusive Relationships

Picture the shittiest customer service job you’ve ever had. Customers are constant and you’re so overwhelmed you can’t think about yourself at all. Your personal life, your bodily needs (you don’t even get a lunch break; when was the last time you had water?) or your emotions. 

You’re expected to perform perfectly and to always keep a smile on your face, no matter what. You need to be polite and accommodating even if people are screaming at you, and even if people threaten you for no reason. 

Your boss thinks you’re an idiot and is constantly condescending and patronizing. He explains your own job to you and implies you’re incompetent, but to avoid offending him, you can’t defend yourself, you can only thank him for his ‘advice.’ He can snap at any minute and fire you, and you need the job desperately, because he has all kinds of contacts and influences in the community and will make sure no one ever hires you again. He makes it very clear that he owns you, but would never say so outright. 

You are not allowed to talk to anyone about how bad this job is, under contract. He considers it unprofessional and a threat to the success of his company, and has threatened to sue if any employees quit and talk about the reasons they quit. He has the power to make your life even worse than it is now. 

But outside the workplace, your boss is known as a philanthropist. He is generous and charismatic, and everyone constantly reminds you how lucky you are for getting the job. 

Now picture that feeling not just at work, but everywhere. This environment is your home. This person sleeps in your bed. They go everywhere with you, or demand you check in all the time. They know all your passwords. They look through your search history. They have access to everything you know and have and are. 

You still have to be polite, accommodating, apologetic, understanding, thankful. You still have to keep smiling.

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.

Edit:  Apparently I’ve already reblogged this.  I suppose that speaks to how bang on it is.

How It Feels

Part II: Emotionally Abusive Relationships

Picture the shittiest customer service job you’ve ever had. Customers are constant and you’re so overwhelmed you can’t think about yourself at all. Your personal life, your bodily needs (you don’t even get a lunch break; when was the last time you had water?) or your emotions. 

You’re expected to perform perfectly and to always keep a smile on your face, no matter what. You need to be polite and accommodating even if people are screaming at you, and even if people threaten you for no reason. 

Your boss thinks you’re an idiot and is constantly condescending and patronizing. He explains your own job to you and implies you’re incompetent, but to avoid offending him, you can’t defend yourself, you can only thank him for his ‘advice.’ He can snap at any minute and fire you, and you need the job desperately, because he has all kinds of contacts and influences in the community and will make sure no one ever hires you again. He makes it very clear that he owns you, but would never say so outright. 

You are not allowed to talk to anyone about how bad this job is, under contract. He considers it unprofessional and a threat to the success of his company, and has threatened to sue if any employees quit and talk about the reasons they quit. He has the power to make your life even worse than it is now. 

But outside the workplace, your boss is known as a philanthropist. He is generous and charismatic, and everyone constantly reminds you how lucky you are for getting the job. 

Now picture that feeling not just at work, but everywhere. This environment is your home. This person sleeps in your bed. They go everywhere with you, or demand you check in all the time. They know all your passwords. They look through your search history. They have access to everything you know and have and are. 

You still have to be polite, accommodating, apologetic, understanding, thankful. You still have to keep smiling.

My Own Worst Enemy

Every day some part of me wishes I could go back in a time machine or something.  Not just to the day that I met him, but long before that - maybe to the age of 8 or 9.

If I changed some decisions, maybe my self worth would have been healthy when I met him. Maybe his smooth-talking wouldn’t have hooked and dragged me in.  Maybe I would have felt like I deserved more that a boy who told me I was pretty but made me feel unbalanced all the time. 

Perhaps then I’d be sitting here working confidently and not steeping in self doubt.

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.

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

I have left a load of clothes in the washer for some days. I didn't forget, I'm just struggling with laundry head wise right now as I'm trying to sort and get rid of things.

If I were in the same situation while with him, he would scream and berrate me, which would put me back into action and the laundry would be in the dryer and hung.

I can tell that I have not yet completed the healing process, because I asked myself if maybe that's what I need.

His name was Dan. That voice they're talking about. Mine was a real person

“Living with anxiety is like being followed by a voice. It knows all your insecurities and uses them against you.”

— Unknown