Emotional Scars - Tumblr Posts
While helping him rebuild his basement, he got angry at me. He threw a 2x4 at me; it hit me in the shin. I have a tiny scar, but the memory has been seared into my brain for eternity.
The blinds were always drawn
And the windows always closed. He told me he didn't like people looking in and up in his business. Really he needed some place to hurt me where no one would see or hear.
Shadows
Sometime in the last year I forgot myself and flashed him a defiant eye. He smacked me across my face. Not enough to leave a shiner, but hard enough for the sting to linger.
Self destruct x10
One of the requirements that had to be met before he could "forgive me" and we could get back together was he had to meet and surpass me in sexual partners.
I went through a period of hypersexuality in response to trauma during my youth and my number was higher than his.
He wanted me to find and offer up women ( including friends) for him to "have". Thankfully this never worked out, but he did fine on his own.
After every new woman he would have unprotected sex with me so that if he "got something" from them we would both have it.
That way he wouldn't have to suffer alone. After all, he was never the one who wanted this.
My humanity ebbing away.
"Can I have a hug?"
"What makes you think you deserve one?"
I am preconditioned to expect things to turn sour if they are going well.
I have social anxiety, and it's a concern of mine that people aren't actually enjoying my company. This, among other things, can make it difficult for me to leave the house to go to an event. Once I'm out, I'm usually ok, but getting to that point can be an exercise in willpower.
If I ever left someplace feeling good, like I'd had a good time, he would make short work of it:
"Why did you do *some small gesture* when you were talking to ____. You surprised everyone and drew so much attention to yourself."
" You should stop doing *something inconsequential that I do involuntarily* when you talk to people, it makes everyone uncomfortable."
"______ didn't look like she was too happy to see you. Were you telling her about your stupid play again? You know not everyone cares about that sort of thing."
" Did you *go, do, say something fairly normal*? That was weird."
" You embarrassed me. Why are you like that? "
He begrudged me any kind of good feeling, so I rarely had one for long. Now my brain does his work for him.
I had scheduled myself a nice day yesterday and enjoyed myself. Then spent the night into the early hours writhing in misery.
I can't explain why. I just know from conditioning that I'm not supposed to feel good. So my head ensures I don't.
Good days are bad too
I used to try to tell him stories about things that happened to me. He would often roll his eyes while I was talking, sigh, and move his hand in a circular motion to say “get to the point, already.”
So I stopped trying. And I became the thing he talked at instead.
My personality began to melt away, and I walked into social situations believing I had nothing interesting to say. I retreated further in my head.
Later, one of his grievances with me was that I was never forthcoming, and he knew so little about my life.
No joy.
I'm A Song of Ice and Fire fan and he and I watched GOT together. I thought it was because he wanted to keep something exclusively for us; untainted by others and something we could bond over. In retrospect, he probabaly just wanted to be able to ask questions so he'd know what was happening.
I was so excited he actually cared about something I liked that I used to sort of gush and share theories I'd heard or thought of. This was short lived. He responded that he didn't think about the show after turning it off. He also told me that I was wasting my limited brain power on something stupid and should be focusing on important things. Like making more money.
On it's own, this isn't horrible, but it does speak to his lack of interest or respect for the things that made me happy. It also made me feel sad and ashamed.
He never let me me enjoy anything. I still get embarrassed when I get too excited about something.
I nearly did.
On Wednesday I had a flashback as I was walking into therapy.
It was the first few days of January in 2016 and he was confronting me about my transgressions. He had found a letter I had written to Rapist. I think I've told this story before, but reliving it this time made me drop like a tonne of bricks.
He asked what the deal was with Rapist and what he did to make me hate him so much.
I was cornered, so I told him. Telling anyone is hard, but telling someone who is unreservedly hostile and violent? He had just closed a door on my arm and kept pushing on it. It bruised purple immediately.
This was one of the hardest moments of my life ever.
After telling him I collapsed ( literally) into tears. He came over to me real gentle like as though he was going to comfort me. He whispered real softly and real close to my ear "you know, it would really make it better if you just killed yourself."
I felt his hot breathe on my ear on Wednesday.
Just a cute little diddy that doesn’t speak to me at all.
/sarcasm
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.
I curse him out aloud sometimes. From a memory or a feeling or just general unhappiness.
It's confusing for everyone.
How do I eliminate all thoughts of him?
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.
Some old habits die hard, but I'm not who I used to be.
I Got A New Phone
I'm playing around with the ring tones, attributing specific ones to my regular people.
The tone I used for texts from him was in the list of possibilities. When I heard it my stomach dropped and I broke out into a sweat.
Does this shit ever stop?
Hats
Throughout the healing process it hasn’t been the assaults, sexual coercion, and the emotional torture that has been difficult to understand.
No, no. It’s been resolving that reality to the person who was, on rare occasions, undeniably kind to me and charming to others. The one who was loved by the family dog. The one who helped out his grandma and had a really sweet relationship with her.
It’s so much easier to think of them as monsters, and I’d argue that it is probably a necessity in the early stages of the recovery process.
But they're human. And somehow that’s a difficult pill to swallow.
My city is on the water. I took for granted my unfettered access to the waterfront until somewhat recently.
I spent a lot of time here last year. I read something about how animals "rest, and go to the water" when they are in pain or trying to heal. Typically I don't buy into pop culture renditions of 'self care', but I was desperate to feel anything other than the crushing sense of emptiness.
All silliness aside, I did a lot of healing here. The water was soothing and peaceful. My walks helped clear my head and focus on something other than my self loathing.
I learned to feel ok with my own company. Found a little joy in the world around me, and began to appreciate aspects of my city.
I went on one of those walks today and the weather was just perfect. I feel lighter than i did last year.
A lot has changed.
My woman is worried about me. Apparently I've slipped down into another hole. That's unusual for the summer months. But here we are.
I have to wonder where I would be if he hadn't wrecked havoc on me physically and mentally. I wonder how much of my brain scramble was mine to begin with
Him: YOU ARE SUCH A STUPID LAZY FUCKING CUNT. WHY THE FUCK SHOULD I LET YOU BE HERE? I'VE TOLD YOU A THOUSAND TIMES. THIS PLACE IS SO FUCKING FILTHY. I CAN'T EVEN INVITE SOMEONE OVER. IT'S EMBARRASSING. JUST BECAUSE YOU GREW UP IN FILTH WITH YOUR FUCKING PARENTS DOESN'T MEAN YOU STAY THAT WAY. I KEEP FUCKING TRYING TO FIX YOU BUT YOU'RE SO FUCKING USELESS AND HOPELESS.
Me: *quietly tends to the plate and glass in the sink that spawned this outburst*
Him: *glaring at me*
Me: *makes eye contact quickly to reassure him that I am not ignoring him (because he really REALLY doesn't like that) but not long enough to encourage a smack to the face or more yelling*
Him: what?
Me: *smiles and shakes head*
Him: What? You don't want to talk to me? Fine. Fuck this. *Goes to the basement to play games for 6 hours*
Me: *exhales silently*
Scars
Torture me Maim me Mutilate me For I will take that pain happily Tear me apart limb by limb Throw me to the wolves Slit my wrist or Hang me from a noose For these scars will show won't they These will show the world I hurt Pain courses through my veins Emotional scars don't matter much do they They never signify pain It's all in your head they say Those scars don't even hurt Then why does the shatter of the heart resound louder than that of glass Why do these mental scars bleed so much more than those on my hands They don't matter much But they hurt so much more Why would you worry about something that doesn't even show So hurt me physically In all the ways I've been hurt emotionally To see if they would care then And till that day comes I'll sit here in the pool Of my imaginary blood Hoping for a day They care about a broken heart As much as they care about a broken bone