The last few days have been a struggle. My anxiety is off the charts. I woke up yesterday in pure panic before 4 a.m. I ended up working over 12 hours. Just trying to stay busy. Angry that I was so on edge.
I realized this week marks 5 years… 5 years since I quietly said that one simple sentence I thought I’d never say… “I want a divorce”. 5 years since I turned my world upside down. 5 years since it clicked that I had to leave.
5 years ago at I was living in complete fear. Fear he’d come back and hurt me, kill me. Fear he’d be here when I woke up. Fear I couldn’t do it on my own. Fear that I was a failure. Fear I wasn’t good enough and would end up alone. Fear I was about to lose everything.
There were so many nights I begged God to just let me die. Nights I contemplated ending it all so that he couldn’t hurt me anymore. Days I wished he’d just get it over with. Days I thought staying would have been easier than the nightmare I was living. The say the most dangerous time is when you’re leaving… it is. They have nothing left to lose. They’ve lost the control. They will do anything.
The things he did to me in the coming weeks were awful. Destroying my body, my soul, my heart, my stuff. I haven’t even mentioned the worst of it in therapy. Too ashamed to admit it happened. Acknowledging it would make it real. Things I want to forget. Yet it lives on. Especially around the anniversary times and triggers. It sucks.
Sucks he still has this place sometimes in my head. I do so good for so long. Then the memories sneak in. The reminders.
I’ve came so far. I looked at the memories from then today. The pictures. The screenshots. The things he said were so mean. My responses were so beat down. Screenshots of texts with him threatening me if I didn’t have my lawyer drop the protection order. Me emailing my lawyer telling him to drop it, I didn’t want it, my ex was great. Literally. I was sleeping with a gun in my bed per the picture I took, yet dropping a protection order while singing his praises. It was just a piece of paper though. His threats were real. That paper would not protect me. Not from what he’s capable of.
The look on my face in pictures. The tears. The heartbreak. I had given up. I look completely defeated. Empty. I want to hug that girl. She needed someone in her corner so freaking bad.
I’ve done so much therapy the last 5 years. Dug deep. Accepted it wasn’t my fault. I still feel like an idiot for staying for 14 years. Yet, I also understand that’s the cycle of domestic violence. I know I stayed because I was brainwashed into believing I had no options. It still sucks though. I feel guilt for my kids, my pets, myself. I didn’t protect them like I should have.
If you’d of asked me 5 years ago today where I’d be today… I’d of told you dead. Homeless. Broke. Living some shitty life alone.
I’m not dead. I still have my beautiful home I was told I’d never get to keep. I can pay my bills. My life is far from shitty.
I made it.
It’s been damn hard but I proved him wrong. I know my worth. I look in the mirror and feel beautiful some days. I’m living for me.
Don’t get me wrong. I still hear his voice in my head somedays. I still have nightmares. Flashbacks. I still get anxious. I still cry.
I’m alive though. I have hope it can keep getting better. That’s a hell of a lot more than I had 5 years ago.
Now if I could just keep this anxiety’s ass, live in the present & get over the childhood trauma wounds I’d be amazing.
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