Try To Remember

Try to remember

No matter how much progress you make, there will always be those days that take you back.

I can clean a shower without getting a single drop of water on the tile floor.

It doesn't matter that I'll be washing the floor after anyway.

I had a flashback in the shower last night. I was able to tell her calmly that it was happening and she held me for a bit which seemed to help.

It was really manageable. Can't say they'll all be like that, but I call that progress.

He told me he came to the realization that I was the woman he wanted to be with forever while beginning to fuck another woman.

He said he stopped it immediately upon this realization and came home to me.

I remember this night. I made him angry, so he spit screamed in my face and told me he was going to go out and cheat on me. So he did. And I was so dead inside that I didn't care. The time he was gone had a peace to it.

I don't believe for a minute that he "stopped." And would you believe he tried to spin that into a really sweet and meaningful moment for us?

Kettle meet Teapot

He was a cheater too.  I don’t think I ever mentioned that.

Funny enough, neither did he. 

I feel the need to repost.

We’ve hit Anger, for now

A few years ago, my friend’s city had to be evacuated due to a wildfire. Pictures from the evacuation process look exactly what I (an atheist, and admittedly not a theology expert) picture Hell to look like. It is pure terror.

Once my friend was able to return to her residence she found that it had burned to the ground.  She and her partner had lost everything.

I remember her telling me the frustration she felt  trying to talk about it.  She heard a lot of “but at least you’re ok, it could have been so much worse!” My experience is different than her’s, but I understand her now much more than I did then.

I am Angry.  Yep, Capital A.

When I actually sat down and looked at the numbers, I handed him 6 figures.  I got years of therapy and the prospect of never being right again  nothing.

When I think about how I’m killing myself to pay off debt that I got into to appease him, and scraping pennies together to try to get myself even half way to where I was with him, yeah, I get Angry.  

I am angry for the life he stole from me. 

I’m furious  he’s sitting in MY home, with MY bed and MY furniture, and gifts MY family got us, with MY money lining his bank accounts and MY trinkets and heirlooms that have no real value in this world aside from the memories and connections they have to me lining his shelves and cupboards. 

I have tried to talk about this, and very well meaning people, tell me  “It’s a small price to pay.”   “You’re lucky you got out.”    “It could be so much worse.”

Listen, no one feels my mortality or how “so much worse” it could have been more than me.  You weren’t there when he was threatening me with kitchen knives, putting pillows over my face, smashing my head against walls, pushing me down stairs, or threatening me with tools.

You weren’t there. I was. I know. I get the fucking flashbacks that remind me any time I’m feeling too comfortable.  Do you really think the other stuff is  “a small price to pay?”  You have no idea.  

I know, they mean well, and they’re trying to make me feel better, but they aren’t. They’re trivializing my loss, and making me feel as though I should feel guilty for being angry.

I’m entitled to my rage; I will take it and let it wash over me.

Some girls have all the luck.

How ironic it is,

 They wished for my dismay 

And laid on me a curse 

But all I got was peace