“[L]’s gonna be mad at you…”

Wellllllll I did it. Literally.

I thought being intimate after [L] was going to be this big scary anxiety inducing thing that I just was eventually going to have to deal with if I wanted to ever be “normal” again. So, in many ways I’ve treated it as such. I’ve been with a few people since him but never sober. Never ever sober. Until the other night.

Honestly, it went well; but obviously this blog isn’t about my sex life so we’ll just leave it at that.

What I wasn’t expecting was how I’ve felt since then. I keep thinking I’m doing better. My mental health team keeps saying they’re seeing improvements, I’m reducing my meds again, blah blah blah…… I had to take a xanax for the first time in weeks last night.

It started out like this: My friend came over for some girl time and I told her I had finally had sober sex and we were talking about how big of a deal that was for like my recovery…. and then that little toxic voice in my head popped up with “He’s going to kill me when he finds out I cheated”. You know, because God forbid I make any progress in life with out 10 steps backwards.

So once she left I just sat with those thoughts for a while….. they’re completely illogical. I KNOW this! I am not cheating! But we all know he wouldn’t see it this way, he’ll always view me as “his”. If he can’t have me no one can. I can truly say I don’t want to be with him, I’ve worked through a lot of those trauma bonds in therapy, and just the full total separation that is necessary to heal from narcissistic abuse like what I went through. I am feeling good, I am doing well in so many other parts of my life, so why is intimacy bringing up all this shit? Why is sober sex a bigger deal than drunk sex?

Well I think I at least figured that last one out….. Sober sex is a bigger deal than drunk sex because even [L] didn’t cheat sober…… I have always softened it by making excuses for him. Clinging to the idea (like I had been) that he only did those things when he was out of control didn’t hurt as much. Intent matters, it was much easier to think of it as a tragic accident than a deliberate decision of betrayal. [L] cheated, I don’t know how much but a lot, enough to know the truth would hurt me more than not fulfilling my curiosity to know. But he never did it sober, he was always drunk or using and he never meant to, it just happened, he wasn’t thinking, someone gave him (insert any drug here), whatever his excuse was he always had one. He would view this as worse than anything he had ever done, because I meant it. Simply put, he would kill me for it given the chance if he found out.

I made the conscious decision to be with someone else. I lived for so long trying to avoid making him angry, I walked on egg shells for years, I still have a constant gauge in my head measuring will this make [L] mad. An ‘Am I going to get hit for this-o-meter.’ That little gauge kept me safe (ish) for years, avoiding actions or arguments that I knew would set him off and therefore put me in danger. It’s not something that I can just get rid of, it’s become an inherent part of me and I owe my life to actively avoiding things that would piss [L] off. Sleeping with someone else is at the top of that list. So knowingly doing something that would have gotten me hurt in the past, even though I’m safe now, I can’t stop the natural anxiety that comes with it. I tried to ignore it that night and tell myself I was being illogical after the ‘he’ll kill me’ thought but the more I was alone with it the more afraid I became. All the way to an anxiety attack, and eventually to needing medication. I keep telling people I’m a private person now that everything was blasted in my past relationship and yes that was embarrassing and partially true; but the truth is I don’t really care who knows what about me for the most part. My biggest fear is too many people, knowing too much about me, and it getting back to [L] that I did anything he would deem betrayal. If he can manage to send me flowers from in there….. I’m pretty sure he could still find a way to hurt me if he thought I deserved it.

So, the xanax worked!

For a day.

Today [BABY] and I were driving around after I picked him up and he said “mom did you kiss _______” and I just mentally panicked and tried to move past it and change the subject. 5 year old’s can be persistent and hard to distract. So he says “I saw you, ya know”…… welllllllll shit……..

So at this point I have to have a conversation I’m not ready for at all, but I don’t lie to my child, so I said yes we did. He thought about it for a second and sing-songed “you’re in trouble…..” and I started to explain that mom was an adult and blah blah blah and he cut me off mid explanation and said “yeah, but [L]’s gonna be mad at you.”

Talk about not what I was expecting. I turned up the radio and cried the rest of the way home effectively ending that conversation. [Baby] didn’t see me crying, it was dark…..

**side note**[BABY] hasn’t seen [L] in over a year, but [L]’s the only person my son has ever seen me kiss…. [BABY]’s getting to the age where he understands the basics of relationships and all of the little kids at school are “married” to each other, they fight on the playground because ‘so and so can’t be married to two different people she has to choose’, and they’ve had to have talks at school about not kissing (most importantly because they’re five, but also we’re also In the middle of a global pandemic!)

So, we’re home and I think I’m done crying (for now), but I’m just still working on these emotions. I did nothing wrong, I did nothing wrong. I did nothing wrong. (I’m hoping if I just keep saying it enough it might finally stick) UGHH somedays that’s recovery right? We can’t prepare for every off hand comment, or uninvited thought, every day is different and being successful as a survivor often means rolling with the punches as they come. I truly hope and think things will get easier in this regard as well as others as time goes on and with more therapy, but I guess we’ll see.

Thanks for reading

To the Other Girl who Loved Him

I’m sorry, and I’m not–Let me explain. I am sorry for all of the times he went back to you and hurt you more. I am sorry for all the times I let him and all the times I couldn’t stop him. I am sorry for all the fights where I literally said “Fuck it go back to [A]” and contributed to your broken heart. I’m sorry for all the times I was jealous and hurting and took it out on you (even though you didn’t know it). I am sorry for the times I put you down when talking to him because I thought that would help me feel better, I’m sorry for my insecurity. I am sorry for taking your friend from you even after he wasn’t your lover. I’m sorry for when you did take him back and he said the wrong names, words, whatever and it broke the happiness….. There’s nothing like the knife in my gut from being called “[well you know your nickname]”. This whole situation fucking sucks and I contributed and helped create it and for that I am so sorry. I guess I’m sorry it can’t ever be the same, because I know that realization is the hardest one for me to deal with some days. 

Also, this means absolutely nothing coming from me, I know; but I am proud of you. Make fun of that damn tattoo, laugh about it, joke about it. Put him down on social media, put me down whatever, keep healing. I looked at your social media today, call it morbid curiosity, and everything you post feels a lot like how I still feel about him. I love all of your brave “I’m done with boys”, “I’m worth more than this shit” posts. Even if you’re not brave everyday I’m proud of the days you are. I know how hard they can be to come by so I truly am happy by yours. I laughed out loud and wanted to like so many of your posts because “I feel ya” on a lot of it (and I would take a fucking mint tattoo over this shit anyday). On the days you’re not so brave, the dark days, I’m sorry. I’m the reason he’s not in our lives anymore, and some days I’m really sorry for that. Somedays I feel like I still need him too. All I can hope now is that I made the right decision and kept us both safe.

You more than anyone else can relate to what I went through, in some aspects at least. Being in love with [L] was amazing, when it was amazing…… he could pull either of us back in at a moment’s notice so I assume you know what I do here. I probably don’t need to go into detail because when it was great it was great, and when it came crashing down it fell hard. He always had one of us to catch him but I took that fall alone quite a few times and I think you did too and we could probably compare scars, it fucking hurt. 

I’m glad he never hit you. I am so glad he never hurt you (if that really is the truth); but I won’t apologize for keeping us both safe with my decision. Even if you don’t think it happened, even if you don’t think he ever would have physically hurt you….. I had to err on the side of caution for both of us, and for the next girl. I truly feel like it was only a matter of time before he hurt someone again and it was going to be either me or you, darlin. I wasn’t willing to risk either of us, even for all of the days I loathed your existence and I’m sure you mine, I hope you never have to run from the man you love. I also have had enough insight into your guys’ relationship (I’m sorry but we both probably know more than we would like about the “other girl” here, it went on too long) to know that you may not have physically had to run but he’s hurt you, horribly hurt you, many many times. Sometimes with me, sometimes with his actions, his promises, his lies, sometimes in the horrible things he would say when he was angry…. Is it that hard to believe he is capable of physical violence after the words he’s gutted you with?

Be safe. Keep healing. Do whatever you have to to heal.  I’m not going to say “don’t take him back” because that is an entirely personal decision and god knows it took me a thousand times to finally decide I was done. Just know if you do take him back, move with caution. If you do take him back and he hurts you, it is not your fault. If you do take him back and he hurts you, run. If you do take him back, and you’re scared or need help out, you have a forever promise from me to help. 

I don’t think we’ll ever be friends, or acquaintances, or acknowledge each other’s existence if we run into each other…I think the immature part of me will always dislike you, and I’m pretty positive you feel the same… But if there was a contest for who knows [L] the best it would be you and me at the top, with [C] trying to play catch-up and use the “mom card”, and [M] coming way out of left field with some off the wall stories (sorry I got way to caught up in that analogy but with all the crazies in his life, myself included, just imagining that looks like a shit show). But the facts are he’s going to be out eventually, he’s going to test grounds again eventually, and that probably means going back to “home base” which is you. It makes my stomach twist a little but you’re “home” for him. So I’m sorry for the damage I’ve done. He’s a big boy, I can’t take responsibility for his actions but I’m sorry for them too. Heal as much as you can, and be as strong as you can be before you have to make that decision about him again. You’re stronger than I am. Stay safe.

Attempts at Not Poetry?

And then….

**I’m in a domestic abuse trauma support group at the local womens shelter.

I don’t belong here.

Maybe everyone feels like their trauma is an anomoly.

Maybe they all feel the same?

There are two groups here.

The lifers and the one timers….

We don’t see many people in the middle

That’s the nature of the monster: 

You get out at the first sign, or the first relationship, 

or you’re in until you claw your way through the other side

(….or you die. )

Trauma is trauma,

Mental, physical, or emotional ABUSE IS ABUSE

I will champion that until the day I die. 

I am not here to diminish anyones story**

The girl in the corner sips her starbucks latte and throws around words: narcisism, gas lighting, abuse. 

She tells stories of mean words and broken promises,

She cries and we all cry with her

Her wounds match some of our wounds, but they are not the same. 

Even though she cries like I do, we are not the same.

No one wants to talk after she does. 

Most of us share her story but where hers ends ours say “and then”

Her pain is just as real as ours.

No one wants to choke down the next “And then…”

We don’t want to invalidate her pain, we are not here to one up eachother.

We all just want the “I’ve been there’s” or “I undersatnd, I’m here’s”

The further we go down the “And then” path the colder the room gets

People begin to withdraw once this train wreck passes their jumping off point

Unlike real train wrecks no one wants to stop and look too closely

Don’t slow down. Don’t make eye contact

They might see themselves, here in our stories. 

We all love the first girl, we are all comfortable there

We know that place intimately

It comes down to two of us and hers is not my story to tell

But we talk of running

of fighting

wondering if anyone would find our body

how long will it take?

who will tell our family?

Will they forgive me for dying? 

Neither of us cry at this point. 

No one cries at this point

No one else can say “I know”, “I understand”, “I get it I’ve been there”

But I need that, so I find new meetings. 

Combat Veterans I

“Why are you here?”

“What paper are you writing?”

“My fucking life”

Combat veterans II

Everyone asks why I kept going back to my abuser and I try to explain

Sometimes it was love, but more times it was fear

I have more faith in his ability to hurt me than I do in the system’s ability to keep me safe.

They say that makes no sense….

I say you keep letting him bail out.

They say but you have a restraining order

You’re safe now

“Yeah, Safe….”

Combat veterans get it 

I tell my story and ask If you knew someone out there could be trying to hurt you;

You’re not sure– It depends on things much higher and more powerful than yourself, 

the turning of political tides in the middle east,

Or how many drinks or what drugs he’s taken tonight. 

But you know the possibility is out there.

Wouldn’t you want to be able to see the gun?

Don’t you want to know where the bullets are going to fly from?

How do you know your quickest escape route if you’re not watching the danger come at you?

When is it time to run if you never hear it coming?

Please feel free “Your Honor” to stand out in the middle of a field and wave that restraining order over your head like a white flag.

Make sure you hold real still while they dial in their scope so they can read the writing.

But don’t worry. 

You’re safe. 

When the paper doesn’t do Its (fucking) job

Just call us if he comes back

We’ll be right here! (in 5 to 12 minutes)

Until then what?

Trust my little apartment door with the big window to keep me safe?

He’s not afraid of glass 

He’s not afraid to turn wood into shrapnel

I have taught myself how to walk the minefield of his triggers

Slowly diffusing as I go

I am a freelance hostage negotiator, without any training

Learning with my own life on the line. 

I throw “love” and “forgiveness” like they’re life lines

Praying he’ll pull me to safety

Once I can make that connection I can convince him:

Drop the weapon,

The bottle,

My throat


Running is my fail safe.

It has saved my life every time. 

Knowing when to run is my greatest power in my own personal war

And you want to disarm me?

You have never saved me, 

You’ve only helped clean up the mess

I save myself

You show up for the report

To cut myself off from this intimiate knowledge of him

Is to declare open season on myself. 

If I leave you can offer me the “promise” of your protection

But it means giving up my own defenses 

I have learned not to trust promises, 

He has made sure of that, so I can’t give him up

If I don’t know when to run, I’ll be to late

Next time the mess you clean up will be me. 

“Let me repeat that again for your report”

Next time the mess you clean up will be me. 

103 Quotes- a “love” story

1.  “I don’t want anything serious right now, I’m just having fun”

2.  “I thought you said it was over with her, I thought you said she knew”

3.  “You need to choose I’m not going to do this”

4.  “I love you”

5.  “Why would you say that, if you truly don’t mean it, why did you say it to hurt me”

6.  “I’m sorry, I love you”

7.  “It’s my birthday, just fucking come home with me, I’ve been sitting here for hours”

8.  “Happy fucking birthday to me”

9.  “You were with her last night, of all nights?”

10. “Go fuck yourself”

11. “I love you”

12. “Why would you do that? I just don’t fucking get it”

13. “It’s midnight where are you, You said you’d be home 2 hours ago”

14. “What the fuck are you doing, I’m getting worried, please atleast reply!”

15. “I think you’re right; a little space would be good”

16. “You’re breaking up with me? In a text? From the bar? Fuck you”

17. “Yes I still love you”

18. “I’ll be there when I get there, I’m cooking baby breakfast It’ll be a while”

19. “What the fuck are you talking about?? You asked me to come get you an hour ago! At Least give me the dog”

20. “Call 911, Please! He broke my phone, he threw my keys. Please! I need help”

21. “No officer, I don’t need an ambulance, just please find him. I’m scared”

22. “I need a restraining order”

23. *[L] liked your picture*

24. “I love you too”

25. “What do you mean you don’t remember?”

26. “You bit my phone, you had glass and blood in your mouth. You choked me. I had a black eye. How could I make this shit up?”

27. “You need help. Counseling, AA, Sobriety, everything [L]. I can’t.”

28. “Yeah, I’ll pay your rent. Do you have food?”

29. “You said you were sick. I came to drop off food. You’re not home. I fucking give up”

30. “I know you’re stressed! I know it’s hard being apart! But that’s the problem you’re still drinking!”

31. “You’re moving? To colorado? In 3 days?”

32. “Don’t go! I don’t deserve this! I’ve done everything and you’re leaving….”

33. “You’re still logged into your email on my phone. You’ve been gone less than 24 hours and already downloaded tinder?”

34. “Don’t fucking lie to me. Someone just happened to hack your account with your likes and hobbies 24 hours after you move? And the email happened to be deleted instantly? Fuck you”

35. “I’ll come visit”

36. “What do you mean your roommates don’t want me there?”

37. “I’m driving in a blizzard and you’re ‘NOT SURE’ If I’m allowed there?!?”

38. “I promise to love you forever”

39. “Let’s get tattoos!”

40. “You said you were coming home with me”
41. “Bye”

42. “I can’t wait for you to visit!”

43. “Things aren’t working, let’s have fun this weekend and then decide what to do”

44. “What the FUCK? It’s a snapchat”

45. “No officer. I’m not hurt”

46. “The restraining order isn’t current. I dropped it”

47. “What about my stuff he has everything! My keys, my cards, my money….”

48. “Come with me, We have to go find [L]”

49. “Just calm down, I’ll be there in a second!!! Holy shit [L] Chilli”

50. “It’s okay love, I’m here. Just breathe. There you go”

51. “I love you too….. But, can I have my stuff, I need to go”

52. “I need my keys too”

53. “What the…..*Screams*”

54. “Just swallow the tooth you need to scream”


56. “Thank you…. thank you….. Thank you…. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your night, thanks for coming to the hospital with me”

57. “Can I use your phone? I need to call my mom”

58. “I’m alright, Don’t freak out, I’m in the hospital…… [L]…..”

59. “Can you take a picture? I want to see how bad it is”

60. “Please don’t bail him out. Please please please, just look at me! look at what he did.. Please don’t bail him out.”

61. “My head hurts, my eyes hurt, the lights hurt, I’m dizzy, I can’t eat”

62. “I’m doing better, I’m healing. I’m fine. I’m strong. I ran for my life and I won, I already survived the worst part.”

63. “Who the fuck is calling me at 6am”

64. “I know it’s you, I taught you that trick. If you’re going to risk going back to jail might as well make it worth it”

65. “Of course it’s true, have you seen the pictures? What do you mean you don’t remember?”

66. “I love you too, but I just can’t do this. I can’t get you out of this one [L]. You would have killed me”

67. “Yeah, meet me, I’ll talk to you”

68. “You can’t kill yourself! I don’t care [L]! You’re not taking yourself out of this world just because you can’t handle the fucking consequences”

69. “Yes I still love you too. Stay alive”

70. “I love you but I just can’t”

71. “I love you, but it’s going to take time. I can’t trust you anymore”

72. “No, you’re not staying here, You have to go back home”

73. “Don’t you dare fucking threaten me. Not after what you’ve done”

74. “Please help me, I made a mistake. I messed up but please help me before he hurts me again”

75. “Do not contact me again. The restraining order is still in effect and I’ve talked to the authorities. If you contact me again we will enforce the restraining order. I’m done”

76. “What do you mean you can’t go pick him up? I’m looking at the warrant and it says ANY officer in the state”

77. “[L]’s back in jail”

78. “[L]’s sending me letters, look at this what do I do?”

79. “You idiot! Why would you call me? You know these calls are recorded!… Yes I love you too”

80. “I don’t know what to say. I can’t make that decision I’m too emotional, please just keep me safe”

81. “He made bail. He made bail. I need somewhere to stay. Can I please come over tonight. Please I can’t be alone!”

82. “Yeah, I’ve thought about changing my number, but they said it might be better not to, that way he can contact me and doesn’t just show up. I have a warning ya know?

83. *[L] Liked your picture*

84. “Merry Christmas eve to you too Love”

85. “I can’t keep doing this. You need to just go. I’m still supporting the plea deal but please just go.

86. “Just tell me where you’re at! You can’t kill yourself [L]! Just tell me where to go. How much have you drank tonight”

87. “Hi, my name is ____ whatever you do don’t say anything over the scanner he told me he’s listening”

88. “I need officers to meet me in the rent a center parking lot asap. I have a restraining order against my ex and he’s threatening to kill himself. I’m not safe.”

89. “No [L]! I’m not driving! I’m having a fucking anxiety attack, you’re scaring me!”

90. “No you don’t need to see my phone! You broke it last time! Tell me what you took!”

91. “I’m sorry. I love you. Don’t fight.

92. “He just threatened me. He keeps saying he’s going to kill himself and he just threatened me again!”

93. “Yes I’m okay to drive…. I just need a minute.

94. “You responded that night? I’m sorry I don’t remember much…. Thank you”

95. “[L]i’s back in Jail”

96. “I don’t want to make a statement.”

97. “I changed my mind”

98. “Please keep me safe, this man has hurt me before and continued to after that night, I don’t think he will change.”

99. “He pissed the Judge off, he got 48 months. None suspended.

100. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m healing”

101. “What do you mean 4 years doesn’t fucking mean 4 years????”

102. “He’s a first time offender mom, there’s nothing I can do. They’re talking about a community placement in as little as 3 months”

103. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

The Sentencing

[L]’s sentencing is a day I will never forget….. The day is carved into my brain to the point where I’ve thought about carving it into my body. Maybe on the other side of the finger that he already claimed….. Maybe it sounds melodramatic, and let’s be honest, it kind of is. But the only thing stopping me is I don’t know what it would mean to me yet.

Is it a “death date”? Like when people tattoo their loved ones birthday and (I have no better way to say this right now, maybe I’m brain farting) death date on their body. He’s alive and contrary to what some believe I don’t wish him death. I wish him a long and healthy happy life where he will never EVER do this to someone again, a life after he is healed. If that is possible. I truly hope it is.

Is it my freedom date? The day I finally was free to stop looking over my shoulder. The day I no longer had to have a panic attack when my phone died because I was going to get in trouble. I definitely don’t feel free yet, and I still look over my shoulder and panic when my phone dies, so that doesn’t seem right either.

I can still tell you how many days it’s been since his last arrest, how many days since the sentencing, how many days since he was transferred to a state facility…… The timer in my head hasn’t turned off…. It’s still counting. Somedays it feels like I’m counting days until his next explosion, the next time I have to run. Other days it feels like I’m grieving the number of days it’s been since we last spoke, since I last told him I loved him and begged him not to kill himself. Maybe it’s the days since I last saw him in the court house, mouthing “I love you” and showing me his tattoo all the way up until it was time for me to give my statement. I know, at least part of it is me counting the days since I had to shake my head and tell him no, and truly mean it, for the first and last time.

It was the day that any possibility of a future with the man I still loved, a man who probably would have killed me, ended. I’m still not sure if that is a joyful or tragic day yet. I think it will always be a little bit of both. Maybe the more I heal the more clarity I will have in that regard. So until then I won’t bleed the words into my soul and make them a permanent fixture on my body. But maybe someday… once I know what that day means to me.

I wrote my “Victim Impact Statement” at least 100 times before [L]’s sentencing. I walked into the courthouse that day with a blank pad of engineering paper. I still didn’t know what I wanted to say, I had thrown out all the other drafts. I finally decided I wanted to write exactly what I was feeling in that moment…. what I needed to say when everything was in front of me. I’ve always been a pro-procrastinator.

I was writing scribbling out my words all the way up until it was his turn. He mouthed “I Love You” before he stood up to go before the judge. I was shaking but frozen. I didn’t have any tears, I shook my head no and then I couldn’t look his way anymore. I still didn’t have a complete statement.

Writing what I felt at that moment wouldn’t have been possible. If I try to put those feelings in words it probably would have been something along the lines of me sobbing and repeating “I love you too” to [L] and in the same breath begging the judge to “protect me keep me safe from this man forever, I never want to see him again, I never want to run for my life again!…. but please drop everything and just let him go so I can be happy. Let me be happy with him for the rest of my life, I don’t care how long. Take the handcuffs off! I can’t stand seeing him in them for a second longer and he can’t hold me back with them on.”

SOOOOO that is, obviously, not what I said in court. I steeled myself and read what I had written and ad libbed the rest. Basically I was afraid, with his repeated offenses, for my safety etc. It was Cold. Dry. Shaky. Only a few tears but my voice didn’t sound strong no matter how hard I tried to make it steady.

I had written a much more composed statement and submitted it to the Pre-sentencing Investigation. That’s part of the process before you’re sentenced is they investigate your past, possible addictions, medical and mental history, etc so the Judge has all the “facts” to appropriately sentence you. This PSI information is confidential so it isn’t read aloud in open court. I knew this wouldn’t be on public record so I spent hours crafting the logical letter when I was in a safe mindset and not letting my emotions get the best of me.  In this letter to the judge I requested a permanent “No Contact Order” as part of the sentencing. I admitted more of my mistakes and much more coherently asked for [L] to get help so he was no longer a danger to me in the future. It was 3 pages….. the recommendation is 1. Unfortunately for him, I have personally made it my personal mission to bring back the art of letter writing and I’ll be damned if that didn’t include the letter to the Judge.

After I gave my statement [L] looked at me with such hatred and disgust it still makes my stomach turn to think about it. I could hear him sighing and rolling his eyes behind me (yes that makes no sense but I swear I could hear it) when I was giving my statement. When I turned around there wasn’t a single tear in his eye. Mine were flowing pretty freely now that I had done my part. It was pure rage. He didn’t look sad, or hurt, or remorseful, he looked like he would hit me again right there if given the chance. I wanted to comfort him.

Then it was [L]’s turn. The judge asked a few questions. To me it honestly seemed like he was trying to give [L] a chance, something to say he was going to change and he was sorry, something to justify the 9 month plea deal they had agreed to beforehand. Then [L] F***ed it all up. The judge asked “why did you continue to have contact with her after the restraining order?” and [L] blamed me. Now I’m not sure if this is common knowledge but: don’t blame your victim for your wrong doing when you’re trying to get a judge to accept a plea deal! -”insert your favorite string of expletives here”!!!!

His mom behind me started swearing under her breath, the victim advocate beside me froze, there were whispers around the courtroom. EVERYONE knew he had just royally screwed himself. The judge started to say something and stopped a few times then called counsel into his chambers. He came out and threw his glasses on the bench and said “You determined your own sentence here today” and went on to talk about how he couldn’t even take responsibility…. [L] was sentenced to 4 years DOC. None suspended.

I was crying, he walked out of the courtroom, we made eye contact and he hated me……that was the last time I saw him.

[L]’s 4th and Final Arrest

Stalking, Suicide Threats, and Another PFMA

There are some events that happened between [L]’s 3rd and 4th arrest and I will eventually write about those but today is just not the day.

After I admitted my mistakes and [L] was arrested the judge set his bail at over $100,000 (to keep things vague). He had broken not only the restraining order but also the terms of his original bail by contacting me. Apparently pissing off a judge by breaking your bond conditions is taken way more seriously than violating a restraining order or assaulting someone with a weapon in the first place.

He made bail after over 50 days in jail. His family came up with the money and paid the 10% bail bond fee. Over $10,000 they will never get back just to get him out of jail until sentencing.

*The way bail works (in case you don’t know) is you can put up the full amount as collateral and then as long as the person shows up for court you get your full amount back. The other option is to go through a bail bondsman and you pay 10% non-refundable as a fee and they put up the entire bond amount with the understanding that they are on the hook if the offender doesn’t show up, but they can regain all or part of that amount if they bring the person in after failure to appear, that’s where we get bounty hunters from. *

We knew sentencing was coming up in roughly a month or two and he had already agreed to a plea deal that agreed to serving some time. So his family paid $10,000+ just for a month or two of freedom pre-sentencing, knowing he would be locked up after sentencing? It doesn’t make sense to me, it didn’t then and it still doesn’t now.

[L] had attempted to contact me from jail a few times including calling (YES, on the pre-recorded jail line) and then sending letters. The letters all were about how much he loved me and how he wanted to get better and be with me. He thanked me for sending him to jail and told me he wasn’t angry because it saved his life….. The county attorney had already issued a request for his right to bail to be completely revoked, due to this attempted contact, prior to his being bailed out it just hadn’t been signed by the judge yet. So a warrant was issued for his arrest just a few days after he was bailed out for violation of the restraining order while in jail and this new warrant did not allow for him to bail out again before sentencing.

Fast forward almost a month, the warrant still wasn’t served. I truly don’t believe they even attempted to look for him after the warrant was issued.

Late one night I received a phone call. Restricted number again, so I knew…. I knew without a doubt it was [L] calling. I answered the phone anyways. He was drunk and slurring his words. I kept trying to ask him how much he had, had to drink and he kept saying he was sober. He kept saying I needed to come get him but wouldn’t give me a location and was crying. He was demanding if I loved him I would take him back or he was going to kill himself. At one point he drunkenly said something about having a gun? Or getting a gun? I’m not 100% sure he was slurring and not making a whole lot of sense. He was getting more and more agitated and I was trying to calm him down and he kept demanding I come get him

I finally told him I’d come but he needed to tell me where I was going. I grabbed my gun, stuck it in my boot, and got in the car. I promised myself I wasn’t going to die that night.

He told me I had to come to a parking lot and he’d meet me there. He told me I couldn’t hang up or he was going to kill himself. He kept asking if I was going to have him arrested and told me if he saw any cops he was going to run and kill himself etc. I was getting close and he started yelling about how he saw a flashing light and I had to assure him that it was green and red and coming from the business sign across the street. I now know he was at his Aunt’s house and the parking lot was visible from her window which is why he picked there. I pulled up and he said he saw me but he had to give the phone back and he would be right there. I called 911 as soon as he hung up and rattled off as much information as I could as quickly as I could while he was on his way over to my car and then hung up.

He wanted to get in but I rolled the passenger window down and told him I was afraid, I did everything I could to stall at this point. My gun was under my leg just in case. He kept demanding to see my phone, he was so paranoid that night and suspicious. I finally unlocked the door and he demanded I drive. I pulled my keys out of the ignition and jumped out the drivers door taking my gun with me. I kept it hidden from his vision and tucked it into my pants. I called 911 again and hit the speaker button hoping they wouldn’t say anything and just listen. I kept saying I’m scared, I’m scared of you, why did you make me come to [This parking lot]? Are you going to hurt me? Do you really have a gun? Basically I was trying to give the police as much information as I could because I was hoping the operator was listening especially after my first call.

He started to walk away and I got back into the car. I locked the doors and yelled out the window for him to please come back and not hurt himself. I begged. I was crying. I kept repeating I love you please don’t kill yourself, please. He started walking back towards the car and that’s when the police showed up. They drew their weapons, he surrendered peacefully. My last words to him were “I love you, I’m sorry”. The last words he ever said to me were “Say goodbye to [BABY]”. In front of the police officers, on body cam.

That night he was charged with Felony stalking, a restraining order violation, and another PFMA (partner family member assault) for reasonable apprehension. A PFMA for reasonable apprehension basically means that I had reason to believe he was going to hurt me and threatening my child openly gave me even more reason to fear for both my and [BABY]’s safety.

They searched him after cuffing him and he didn’t have a gun or anything else on him. He just stared at me, hating me. Now looking back on that night I think it was a cry for help. He had to have known what was going to happen. He kept saying don’t call the police and was soooo paranoid. He had to have known what I was going to do. I wonder if he really was going to kill himself and this was the only way he could save himself from that? After his last arrest he admitted that I saved his life by having him arrested because he was planning something very self destructive for when he made it back into town. I wonder if he either consciously or subconsciously knew, or was hoping, I would save him again. Even if the only way I had left to save him was to have him arrested. Or maybe I’m reading way too much into it and he was just drunk and being irrational.

Taking Back the Man who tried to kill me (Part 2)

[L] Promised not to kill himself. He didn’t demand I take him back directly but only asked that I be there for him. “[He] knew we couldn’t be together” but he “couldn’t bear to lose his best friend.” He needed me to help him through until he was whole again. He swore he was going to get treatment. He was going to be a better person. He was going to do all of the things we originally talked about. He was going back to [ANOTHER STATE] and he was going to fix himself until we could be together again. He was slowly worming his way back in.

That lasted 2 weeks. He was in this other state for 2 weeks before we both felt lost and empty. I was still in a hazy PTSD, trauma bond, concussion state. I truly don’t think I 100% realized the implications of what I was doing, I just needed my person back. The one person who still knew what I went through and could relate (even if he was the perpetrator) He wanted to come “home.” I agreed to go get him. He told his friends he was living with down there that he had to come home to take care of “legal stuff” and faked that he was going to fly out of the local airport. I insisted on him bringing his dog [T-DUM] with him. To be honest I was still bitter that I had done so much for this dog as a puppy, and I never even got to meet him. I felt that if he was going to be a part of the future we were still trying to create together he needed to come with. [L] resisted, but his friends had already been complaining about having to take care of his dog on top of the ones they already had, and [L] couldn’t afford to send them money for food, [T-DUM] still hadn’t been neutered, I truly thought the best place for him was with me. Even if I had some other bitter reasons why I wanted to meet him and why I wanted him here so much.

[BABY] was away with his dad at the time so I once again drove all night– thankfully not through a blizzard that time– to pick him up at the airport he said he was flying out of. We drove straight back home that day. About 3 hours from home we already started having our first argument. I’m not 100% sure what it was even about at this point but it was clear nothing had changed. I could see he was still the same man who got drunk, had a fit of rage, and savagely beat me.

We continued seeing each other off and on when we could until October. Things went back to normal, he would freak out the second I wasn’t answering my phone calls. He was sleeping on his friends couch and staying with me when [BABY] was out of town. We would see each other during the day when [BABY] was at preschool and every other spare time I could manage. I kept him fed and gave him money when I could. He was working a manual labor job, constantly complaining about the pay and how his friend was charging him rent for sleeping on his couch. I was the one who went to Colorado and got him so I was responsible for him not having a job and being “stuck here.” His dog [T-DUM] had to live with me, his friend’s place didn’t allow dogs, it had no yard, he had no money for food or vet bills. I felt guilty. I felt it was my fault he was now back in a rut in a toxic place with no money. I did everything in my power to help him even still, while still making sure [BABY] was safe. I never did drop the second restraining order (the one I was given after his attempt on my life) I didn’t feel like I could. I knew above all else I atleast needed that bit of protection. Even though I prayed I would never have to use it, I needed that “control” if you will so if things got dangerous again I had a way out.

Turns out I would eventually need to use that escape route.

The last time [BABY] went to visit his dad was rough. Previously when we were together [L] would have minor outbursts in between the major ones: screaming, degrading, shoving, blaming his actions on me, disappearing to drink and not coming home at night. I could tell he was trying so hard to keep the worst of his outbursts in check since I had come to get him. He was still controlling, still emotionally and mentally abusive but not as severely as before. I could feel the tension building, I had a gut feeling something bad was coming, and quickly. It was an impending sense of doom–not to try and be too dramatic but I’m not sure how else to describe it.

In October after a routine visit [BABY] had with his dad I was due to pick him up that night from the airport. [L] knew far in advance that this was coming, he would have to go back to his friend’s couch. Our time together would be limited. When we were together during that time I started to suggest he go back to [OTHER STATE] and try and find work there since he was constantly complaining about his job here. I offered to pay for a plane ticket and found several that were reasonably priced and leaving soon, I offered to send him by bus. He always had excuses, he also didn’t want to leave [T-DUM] and dogs weren’t allowed on the flights I was looking at. I offered to send him later via a pet transport company, or find a later flight that would accept him as cargo, he refused everything. He had no intention of returning. I believe [L] knew I wanted to get rid of him. I wanted him gone before the next major blow up, I now knew the most dangerous time to be in an abusive relationship is when you’re leaving. I wanted him hundreds of miles away before I broke things off. I could feel it coming, it was only a matter of time, he would hurt me again. I was worried with the severity of the past offences that I wouldn’t survive this one. I hid my guns.

He couldn’t be trusted around my son still. He refused. He said no. He wasn’t going back to his friends house either. I was the reason he was here and it was all my fault. If I didn’t want him back in my life I never should have gone and got him from [OTHER STATE]. We were going back and forth about how he could never be a part of [BABY]’s life until I had tangible proof that he had changed. I needed real documentation, letters from counselors, AA meetings, Therapy, so much time sober, (probably drug tests) before I could even begin to justify bringing him back into my family. His response was “I guess you just can’t have [BABY] then”.

This was a bone chilling, goosebumps all over my body, threat. His eyes change at times, it’s so hard to explain to someone who’s never seen it. It’s like a switch flips inside him and I’ve come to recognize that look and I’ve learned when that happens he’s out to hurt me, or someone else. One way or another, unless I find a way to bring him back down to reality quickly and appease him, he will do something horrible. That flash in his eyes told me all I needed to know. He was still capable of horrible dangerous things. I felt it coming but this just confirmed things.

The way he said it, the look in his eyes. I knew not only was he capable of hurting me but I believed he was now capable of actively seeking out my son and hurting him. I have explained in previous posts how he had begun to resent my child as the wall keeping us apart. This was the defining moment. I knew it could never be the same. I was willing to risk my life and safety for the man I loved. But a mother’s love is so much beyond that. I would never risk my child for this man.

I got him talked down and he agreed to go back to his friend’s house to stay that night. It was only one night. He was leaving in the morning to go to a nearby city to work on a project for his job and would be gone for 2-3 days. After what I had seen that night I knew this was my best chance, my time to leave safely, I would be beyond his reach. I knew it was time to sever all ties as soon as I saw that look. I cried the entire one hour drive to the airport, went into the airport and cleaned my face off, and picked up my son. It was a late night flight so my son slept the entire way home and I cried the entire drive back. I was terrified of leaving, of what he may be capable of.

I called him on my way back to town, still clearly sobbing, and told him my father had had a heart attack. [BABY] and I were going straight home to pack our bags and leave to be with him. Sometimes when you’re in a panic you have moments of clarity, that night I vividly remember a moment with my father as a teenager saying if I ever was in a situation where I didn’t feel comfortable I could always use him as an excuse to leave (ie. “my dad just called and is being a jerk I have to go home, etc) so I knew he wouldn’t be upset by the lie and would be proud of me for keeping us safe no matter what I said. I didn’t want to [L] come by the house that night after his earlier threat.

I truly did plan on packing bags and driving to my parents house that night, but on a whim I decided to check the weather and there was a winter storm warning. I parked my car a block away from the house and kept the doors locked and lights off all night to make it look like no one was home. I set fake alarms on my phone so I would send text messages checking in at the right times along the way to make my trip seem legitimate. Just in case. Just until I knew he had left town for work. I texted both of my parents in the middle of the night saying “call me as soon as you wake up, no matter what time it is.” I needed to make sure there was no backing out, no talking myself out of it or rationalizing it, or pretending I just imagined the look and the threat. I needed to verbalize it to make it real.

[L] Goes Back to Jail for the 3rd time

The next morning was a Monday, my dad called me first at about 5am and I spilled my guts. I told him everything. I admitted my mistakes and begged for forgiveness and told him how afraid I was for my life. He listened, he was loving, but now that he knew; I knew there was no going back. I dropped my son off at preschool that morning and immediately went to the County Attorney’s office. I was there at 8am. I sat down with him and again cried and spilled my guts. I admitted every single mistake and begged him to help me, to save me, to keep me safe. I had been talking to [L] prior to going to the County attorney’s office, I didn’t want him to suspect anything. He was “worried about my dad” and kept checking in so I felt I had to keep responding. So my phone was open to our message screen and I had my phone between my legs while I was talking and somehow accidentally called him. He heard parts of the conversation and naturally he freaked out. I think he knew what was going on, he accused me of turning him in but I played it off to the best of my ability. Once again I used my dad as a lie and told him that with my dad in such a serious health situation I felt I had to be honest with him about everything going on with [L] he deserved to know the truth just in case something happened. It was a horrible lie but it also bought me time and safety and my dad gave me full permission that morning to say whatever I needed about him to stay safe.

I then went and did the exact same thing, I spilled my guts to the judge who issued the order of protection. Since I had never withdrawn it, it was still effective and he explained to me that even though I had allowed the contact [L] was still in violation. There are no legal ramifications for the victim having contact with the offender only with the offender having contact with the victim. The order of protection clearly and specifically states that even if contacted by the victim the offender is not to have any contact or respond. He advised me to cut off all communication and restate that I wanted no further contact even though I had previously allowed it. It’s hard to charge and prosecute someone when the victim has allowed it but by sending that message I’m providing physical proof that I didn’t want the contact. I then went to the detective on my case and again spilled it all and he told me the same thing, and to report any contact after that message immediately.

I finally sent the message. I bawled and retyped it a million times but basically, I told [L] I would not accept any further contact from him. The restraining order was still in effect and I plan on reporting it and enforcing it if he contacted me again. I had already talked to law enforcement, the judge, and county attorneys and they know everything and will take action if you contact me.

I immediately started receiving phone calls. Even still I wanted so badly to answer, to explain why I needed to break off contact, to justify my actions and reasoning behind it, to tell him I still loved him and I wished him the best but I couldn’t risk myself or my child. It was done. The first voicemail was him crying, begging me not to leave him, he said he was in the top floor of an apartment complex working that didn’t have windows and he wanted to throw himself out of one. The second voicemail was a threat on my child. The third he said he was crying in a port-a-potty and could not keep his promise not to kill himself any longer. He couldn’t live without me.

I’ll admit, I almost didn’t report the first voicemail. Of course he was shocked and upset, him threatening suicide was nothing new. It was his go to, to guilt me to talk to him or take him back at this point. The second voicemail, once again I saw red. YOU DO NOT THREATEN MY CHILD AND GET AWAY WITH IT. I went straight to the police. I had an arrest warrant issued almost immediately, especially since I had already explained the entire situation to the judge the day before.

I was terrified of him coming back to town and finding me before they picked him up. I called the police dept of the city he was in and they told me there was nothing they could do. First they told me they couldn’t do it because it was an out of county warrant. I told them that was complete BS the warrant said “Any officer in the [STATE]” and that includes them. They then told me they couldn’t pick him up because I couldn’t give them a specific location. I knew it was a new big apartment complex going up near a college with multiple buildings and I knew the work vehicles they used had giant, bright, colorful logos painted on them. They said that wasn’t enough. Finally I explained my fears to them, that if he made it back to [HOME TOWN] before he was picked up I would be in serious danger. They agreed if any of their patrol officers saw the vehicles I described they would pick him up but “they weren’t going to go driving around town looking for some guy” I said fine knowing there is no way you could miss these logos even if you were casually driving by.

Two hours later they called me and told me he was in custody.

Taking back the man who tried to kill me…. (part 1)

So, I had a broken face. I had a broken heart. I had a concussion, PTSD (Slowly developing over time), and I was confused even after all that had happened. I loved him still. Yeah, this is generally the part where everything seems a little crazy…..How do you love a man you are terrified of? How do you miss someone who tried to kill you? How is it even minutely possible to think you can still help him, fix him, be with him?

I tried to ignore these feelings. My doctors upped my anxiety medication, put me on a mood stabilizer that they believed could help with the up and down swings that came with the developing PTSD and the overall depression I was experiencing. My parents helped me pack up my apartment and emergency move in 3 days so [L] wouldn’t know where I was living. I found out who my real friends were during that time, the ones who show up to help when everyone else was confused and scared about the situation and were trying to remain “neutral”. Most of my real friends had been cut off during my relationship with [L] so I was fairly alone during this time.

The assault happened in the Spring of 2019, I can honestly say I don’t remember much until fall. I generally know what happened but everything is behind a wall of fog. [BABY] and I went and stayed with my parents for a while. We camped with my parents, I drank a lot (too much) with childhood friends, I stayed in my childhood home in a makeshift set up in the basement. [BABY] and I played as much as we could, but thank God I had my younger siblings, his aunts and uncles, there to help me through the summer. I was a shell of myself. There were days I could hardly get out of bed, especially when [BABY] went to visit his father. I suffered from severe migraines, the result of my concussion. I was forced to leave my job, even after my 12 weeks of Family Medical Leave Act I still wasn’t healthy enough to go back to work. The computer screens and bright lighs made the migraines worse. My vision in my left eye had changed pretty drastically and was continuing to change as it healed so that definitely added to the migraines. The depression was crippling. I felt so betrayed, so lost, so hopeless.

There were definite moments of bravery and clarity scattered in there that I remember more vividly than the rest. Like my parents headed back to their house and took [BABY] so I could finish up some legal stuff and join them later in the week once I had more of my house packed up. I went out with some friends, the real ones I found I could depend on….. and one night I decided to say “F*** it” and I went out without makeup on. I learned pretty quickly how to cover and hide the bruising and holes in my lip as they healed but this day, I just didn’t care. I remember thinking “let them look, let them see, I survived.” I was brave. My mom was pretty insistent I keep my bruises and face covered with makeup as much as I could while I was healing. I wore huge aviator sunglasses for months. They became my favorite way to hide my face. I resented having to hide sometimes, I wanted to be brave and say this is who I am now. Broken but alive.

I remember showing up to hang out with a group of friends when I was home and I decided not to wear makeup, I had healed a lot by then. I warned my cousin as he’s one of my best friends. The weird thing about my cousin is that he is very close friends with my first highschool boyfriend. I don’t know how to abbreviate him here. His name also starts with the letter L, so we’ll just go with [X]. [X] and I have remained friends off and on for several years and we’ve had our little snuggly “more than friends” moments off and on before [L] and I were together. I showed up that night feeling fearless, and terrified by what people would think of my bruised and broken face. [X] pulled me aside and we were talking and I mentioned my face and he laughed and said “[NAME REDACTED] you’re beautiful, you’ve always been beautiful and broken faces heal. You’re strong and you’ll be even more beautiful after this.” Yeah, I definitely cried. Like hurt my torn up face crying.

I came back to my current home mid summer, it was time for another visit with [BABY]’s father, so I needed to drive back to meet him at our normal airport where he usually flies out of. I felt like I had been with my parents for too long and it was time for me to start healing on my own and I decided to stay home. I wanted so badly to be brave. I tried to break out of my shell and go out with friends again. In our small little town there’s really not much to do so I went out with my friends a few times.

July- durring a celebration in our town. [L] was hospitalized. He later admitted he remembered that I was his emergency contact and was hoping they would call me. Thankfully his mom went with him to the ER and demanded that she go inside. He had slit his wrist, he still has a deep ugly scar from the attempt. Of course I found out about the attempt anyways, even though his mother was there to stop the emergency contact call. News travels fast in a small town. I wanted so badly to go to him then but I held off, I couldn’t face him. I blamed myself for his attempt.

One night they had early obligations in the morning but I had run into other friends/acquaintances that had come from out of town so I decided to stay out late. They had also been [L]’s mutual friends at some point or another but weren’t really close with him. One of these friends happened to be the guy who was there during the assault. The one who pulled [L] off of me and probably saved my life. This was the first time we had actually ever hung out besides saying hi in passing. The other guy works out of town and likes to come back and party on his time off, so I ended up taking far too many shots and drinking way more than I ever would have on normal circumstances, I was still coherent, I didn’t black out, and [BABY] was with his dad. I deserved to cut loose and have a little “safe” fun after everything I had been through. While sitting at the bar with them I learned that [L] had come back to town that day for his arraignment on the felony assault charges. We decided it wasn’t safe to stay out drinking so we ended up going back to the out of towner’s house and played fetch with his dog and just hung out BS-ing. Honestly we just had good clean fun, drunk fun, but nothing nefarious. At some point we were outside playing fetch with his dog, and the moon was lit up, several significant landmarks in our town were lit up, it was a beautiful clear night–but maybe that’s the concussion speaking. We decided we definitely needed to take some selfies to remember the night. We laughed, we took pictures, we made silly faces, we posed with the dog, it was funny and exactly what I needed. I needed to feel normal after so much SHIT. I needed to forget the hurt for just a little while.

Prior that week [L] had posted the Dan and Shay song “Tequila makes me think of you” to his facebook. I am a known tequila drinker. It is definitely my drink of choice and when everyone else is shooting whiskey I am usually the lone tequila shot. I used to bartend, I used to go up to the bar when [L] was bartending, it is a well known fact in our small town that I love tequila. Within hours of him posting that song I had several people send me screenshots of his facebook laughing saying things like “hmm wonder who that could be about” and other off hand comments. I did my best to ignore it, but it also pulled on my heart strings. It was clearly a message to me and with all of my mixed emotions I knew he was saying he still loved me, and I… still loved him. That night one of the guys forwarded [L] one of our silly selfies and captioned it “tequila makes you think of who?” without informing me until after he sent it. I went home immediately after having a full blown panic attack.

About 6am that morning I received a call from a “restricted number”. I’m the one that taught [L] that trick. I used to use it when he blocked my number when he was drunk and belligerent and I was worried. I answered, probably still a little drunk, and said “who the F*** is calling me at 6 in the F***ing morning” I was almost certain it was him and I knew it was about the picture, and I just wasn’t ready to deal with the emotions yet. I heard breathing and then the other side hung up. I texted him and said something along the lines of “if you’re going to risk jail and the restraining order by calling me you might as well make it worth your while and actually say something”. I realize now I never should have sent that text; but I was just so frustrated by being woken up, I had just gotten to sleep after my panic attack and deep down I was still very confused and missing him. I wanted to hear his voice. I wanted to hear that he still loved me and forgave me for sending him to jail.

Lets take a minute and ponder that for a second. I wanted HIM to forgive me for him going to jail AFTER HE was the one who BEAT ME. I’ll say it here and I’ll say it 1000 times again trauma bonds are a bitch. I truly still loved him with my entire being (minus one tooth).

He finally contacted me again later that day and we finally spoke. We drove and talked. He asked me if he really did it. He claimed he didn’t remember that night. I’m not sure if this is true or not,now I believe it was his way of not fully taking credit for his actions. He said he just needed to hear it from me to know it was the truth. I showed him the pictures; he had already seen them. I told him what happened, confirmed what he had already heard, and he just broke down sobbing. He said he was just going to end it. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t go to prison. He begged me to just let him die…. I said no.

I was mean, I was cruel even. I told him if he killed himself I would not come to his funeral (not that his family would let me anyways–although he did beg his mother to let me attend his funeral in one of his phone calls from jail). I told him I wouldn’t write his eulogy (he was there when I wrote my grandmothers earlier in the year) so this had significance to him. I told him I would never visit his grave. I would never mourn him. I would burn everything of his, of ours, all of the memories and be done with it.

I made him promise to never do that to me, to never attempt suicide again, I couldn’t handle that and finally he did. I would have his death on my concious and he knew that. Justified or not it would feel the same.

** I have lost loved ones to suicide, I do not blame them I do not believe it is a selfish act and I resent those who say so. This is not at all a reflection of my beliefs on suicide, at this moment I was soooo angry and so tired of his constant threats as a way to control me that I just snapped. I am not proud of this argument but I feel like I should be as candid as possible.**

Control is an illusion

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.


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),