Well, I haven’t written anything in about 2 weeks…. I gave someone the information to find my blog and haven’t written a word since. Go figure.
Healing is such a dichotomy at times. One moment I want to tell a stranger my story. I want someone to know exactly what happened to me and what I lived through and how it changed who I am now… but I don’t want to tell my mom a single thing. Even now that she knows so much all I want to tell her is ”don’t worry, it’s over. I’m safe and that’s all you need to know”. I get caught up in my healing or in my feelings at times when I feel I can be vulnerable with someone and share too much, like giving out this URL, and then I can’t believe I would ever show someone so much of myself. So I didn’t write for 2 weeks….. but I have come to the realization that it doesn’t matter if I write more or not. They either looked and read, or they didn’t. It’s too late now they’ve seen the crazy mess that goes on inside my head and they’ll either see me differently, or they won’t. Just like with [L] I need to give up control to finally be happy. I can’t control how anyone views me, whether they read my blog, if they still want to associate with me, if they understand me…. None of this is up to me. So, I need to put it away…… I’m trying. Honestly I don’t want to know if anyone has read it and I don’t want feedback from anyone who actually knows me and that seems like its a move away from healing but I think knowing people have the option without ever discussing what they read here gives them an open door to me while closing the door on me actually feeling like I need to share my soul.
So here I am writing again. At least for tonight….
I’ve always struggled with control. When I’m going through hard times I am not a stress eater, I am a stress starver. So as you can imagine this last year I’ve been at some of my most unhealthy weights since highschool. I want to call and check in on [L] and see how his assessment is going…. if he’s owning up, if he’s told them the truth about what he was using, if he’s manipulating and lying or if he’s being honest. The DOC officer who is doing his assessment called me to ask about my feelings and my safety as a victim….. He wanted to talk about possible placements for [L] and what I would be comfortable with. In my state a 4 year DOC sentence doesn’t mean jack shit (excuse my language) but I found out rather quickly after sentencing that it could mean being in an unlocked community based program in as little as 2 months. I freaked out!
I just made a statement against [L] in court, my son is finally home and safe, school is/ was going well (stupid coronavirus), I’m sure [L] is pissed off at me and they were telling me he could be walking partially free in as little as 2 months!!!! I made a lot of phone calls in that panic-manic moment, I wrote some emails, and some letters. I may have overreacted a bit, but also is there such a thing as an overreaction when you fear for your own safety or that of your child? Do I really believe it was an overreaction or is it [L] still in my head calling me crazy that has me doubting my actions? I’m not sure…. I think that’s really why the officer called, they wanted me to be a part of it so they didn’t get another wave of hysteria from me and every person I contacted….. the panic has died down a bit now that I’m healing more but it’s still very close to the surface some days. I told the officer what I was comfortable with and I truly hope they can help [L] while still allowing me to feel safe (maybe that’s a good post for later).
I read something the other day that was posted about emotional abuse that really hit home and I think it applies just as much if not more so to physical abuse victims as well (most of us are victims of both). It read:
Being emotionally abused has made me incredibly defensive towards being told what to do; but at the same time has made it hard for me to do things without someone telling me its ok to do, out of fear of doing something wrong and getting in trouble.unknown
Wow this hit home. I feel like I’m constantly going to get in trouble for stepping out of line. But my lines are different from normal lines now after what I lived through. I get uncomfortable when I laugh out loud (I’ve been trying to read new funny books and watch comedies to learn to laugh again). I try to leave the house more and push myself out of my comfort zone but it’s not going well. Having anyone else in my home makes my skin crawl. Even after so long I am anxious the entire time, I feel physically sick and awkward, I kind of want to hide in the bathroom and cry because I just know how much he would hate it. I hate house guests right now. I feel like I’m going to get in trouble and I try to rush people out the door as quickly as possible. How do you explain to someone that coming to the door to pick you up while a gentleman thing to do is also why I always want to ditch out on plans, just to avoid that moment? [L] never even wanted my family to come to our house when we lived together. Touching makes me nervous, just the smell of Jameson is an anxiety attack in a bottle, especially if I’ve had a drink or two before. My safe zone is my house, my clutter, my yarn and 3/4 finished blankets. I AM OKAY WITH THIS, but my therapist and my family keep telling me isolating is bad and I need to get out of my bubble.
Well HAH! Thankyou Covid-19 for a bit of a reprieve from the social world. As of right now I am telling everyone I think [BABY] “might be running a bit of a fever” for as long as I can milk that excuse! I am not cut out for trying to put on a face that I don’t feel. I think others can tell when I hit my threshold and get antsy and need distance, until they don’t catch on then I feel like I need to run away because the world is caving in on me….. which in turn is another anxiety attack. It’s weird, I love small spaces, I always have. Safe warm spots to curl up in, under the bed, behind the chair, little blanket forts that warm up the longer you’re inside…. I love small spaces and I used to like close people, I would cuddle with literally anyone, I loved holding hands and sitting on laps, I thrived on touch and warmth from others and now…. the moment I feel trapped in by a person I run. [L] trapped me in, he created the small space I lived in and quite frankly…. Most of the time, I liked my small space. He kept me trapped but he was always there to keep it warm. Being with [L] was like a good blanket fort as a kid…. I’m not sure which way is the best way out, I’m not exactly sure how I got in, it was precariously balanced, the roof kept caving in and he was always leaving the fort and knocking things over on his way out only to want back in 5 minutes later….. but when everything worked out for a moment, it was pretty magical.
Well there are my exhaustion driven ramblings from today, I’m glad to have written something at least even if I don’t feel it really went anywhere or had a point, it’s just a small baby step in the right direction of telling more of my story. I have so much open space now but where do I go? Where do I begin? Who do I ask to come with me? How do I accept that I can’t control the world and still find happiness?
I’m not quite sure but telling my story and not telling my story simultaneously is definitely part of the answer.
Thanks for reading (especially this rambling mess),
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