How Much Easier It Would All Be If He Was Just A Monster.

How much easier it would all be if he was just a monster.

Sometimes the hardest thing to accept about abusers/toxic relationships is that these people care(d) about you, or at least thought they did.

It’s easy to think of stereotypical ‘abusers’ as these Big Bad Monsters who have no regard for your wellbeing. It’s easy but it isn’t always true.

They may well be like that, but they might also be that one person from school who always texts to make sure you’re okay. They might be the family member that tries to cheer you up. They might be the friend you’ve had for as long as you can remember. There is no template for abuse and there is no template for abusers, everyone experiences it differently.

No matter how much these people care about you or love you, if they are abusing you it is absolutely okay to cut them out of your life. You don’t owe them anything because of how they might feel about you.

Devolving

But I'm guessing you already knew that.

Um.

What they don't tell you about the grief stages is that they aren't a linear progression. They kind of splatter all over the place.

Today I saw a bit of rage - I got in a screaming "Fuck You" match with someone over a parking space. I think if she had come near me I would have stabbed her with the pen in my pocket.

I am certain this goes without saying, but it wasn't about the parking spot. * Insert cringing emoji here *

Good riddance.

2017 was the year I woke up. I will hold on to that.

A particularly troubling symptom at this juncture

I had a nice Christmas with my mother’s side of the family. Good food and everyone was very sweet to one another.  We played cards, and laughed.  It’s was lovely. I didn’t think about him for a moment.

And now I feel awful.  I can’t really explain why. 

I expect the flashbacks, the triggers, and the horrible memories.  I expect to feel bad when it makes sense to feel bad. 

Why does the good have to be ruined too? 

Sexual Abuse - tw for sexual assault

I have survived a series of predatory sexual experiences. Examples relevant to this post:

1. In highschool a boy asked if he could fist me. I said no, but he tried anyway. It hurt quite a bit and he did not succeed. I squirmed away.

2. While on vacation in Brazil, my friend's roommate got me ridiculously drunk on tequila (4 or 5 double shots) then proceeded to perform oral sex on me. I vaguely recall this occurring, but i distinctly remember him putting his dick in my mouth and forcing it down my throat. I proceeding to puke all over him, the couch we were on , the floor, the rug and myself.

 It was a really difficult thing for me to get over. I have since called it sexual assault.  He - my ex- called this my "Rough Deepthroat."

Sometime after he found out that I had been unfaithful, he demanded to have "all of me" - to perform all of the sexual acts that i had done with other people with him. Confusion ensued; I had explored with him well beyond what I had done with anyone else.

Funny thing was he wasn't just referring to consensual sex acts I had been a part of, he meant, among other things, the two above. I rationalized that this was the kind of punishment I deserved for the crimes I had committed, and reliving these experiences couldn't be so bad because I knew he loved me.

I agreed to the "Rough deep throat" first. He sent me home twice that night. Once I was dressed too "plain" and the second I was dressed too "slutty". I am ashamed that I begged to come back the second time.

Can you call it sexual assault after you've begged for it? He skull fucked me with no mercy. He said he wanted to have me like I meant nothing "just like they did". I vomited into a garbage can we had handy for the occasion. He told me he couldn't " be like them" anymore and I didn't have to finish him off like that. He felt too bad. Plus he was annoyed that I wasn't tilting my head back like he was asking.

So he rolled me over and fucked me till he came. Then asked me to leave. We'd save the fisting for another time.

My mind has done a superb job of fuzzing up some of my most horrible memories, but the emotions I felt this night are still vivid. I remember telling myself to smile and look pleased the whole night while the pain and panic and misery built up in me with steady pressure. I was so proud of myself that I kept it all bottled until he couldn't see me anymore. When it broke though, it came with the force of a broken dam.

I sobbed hard on my way back to my car. Ashamed I had let him do that do me. That i had asked for it. That i had begged for it knowing it was bad for me. But he had my best interests at heart; he was doing this all so we could be together again. So why and how could this be hurting so bad?

This was a terrible one for me to share. I have avoided the term for a long time. I have said he was physically abusive and certainly emotionally abusive. But his use of shame and past trauma mixed with sexual acts that any reasonable human being would know I would not want to do leads me to only one conclusion.