Apparently things do resurface around an anniversary of a traumatic event.
Fuck…it is a real thing. No, I’m not depressed but I’ve had struggles the past few weeks where I have been just off. Angry at things that I normally wouldn’t be, weepy for no tangible reasons. Some of it is my own doing, things I could guilt myself to thinking it’s all my own fault.
I know it isn’t, I also know my goal in life is to be solid enough that I don’t have to even have that inner battle.
A good nights sleep isn’t something I’ve seen in a while. What is sleep again? Waking up with obscure memories and the feelings that accompany them and unable to shake them…unable to put a finger on exactly what that ‘feeling’ might be.
Always fun. Ok, I’m lying. It’s not fun.
It’s been a year. I am patting myself on the back if I sleep until 330.
A whole fucking year has passed since my whatever the fuck substance induced state my ‘husband’ was in that day. A whole fucking year and he is as much lost in it still and I am not.
I slept in Sunday morning, which was of course was the morning I really shouldn’t have slept in. “Wake up mama, it’s 10 in the afternoon” – if anyone wakes anyone up, it’s the reverse. I have two teens and a pre-teen that is in a class all her own. If you know her, you know how acutely accurate that statement is 😉
Sunday. I let my eyes close for a second before pretending to be awake. One little tear rolled out as a memory of a time that seems a lifetime ago snuck right the hell back in. My husband before he was either a nasty emotional abuser, spice smoking addict or both defined him. The split second where reality and emotions are so not congruent with one another. He would rub my head, before we would fall asleep and kiss the top before telling me he loved me.
Why does this happen?
That shit doesn’t happen all too often, I can’t remember the last time I had a wave where a positive past memory collided with a very different current day reality.
Will it ever stop?
They are haunting, heavy. They used to come all day, every day a year ago. They tapered off as I worked through some tough shit – to be fair, I also was a very lucky person with very strong supports for me, and for my kids.
Regardless…even though it’s been a few months. Still haunting and still heavy, those memories still find a way to get back in.
My reprieve is knowing that distance and healing provide the space to be filled with actual decent human interactions. The ‘good’ memories aren’t real, they are where his manipulation shine through, where he ‘cared’ just enough before he would berate and belittle me for being a shitty human that he made sure I *knew* I was deep inside.
The kind of person to call right at that anniversary point, accuse you of something…scream at you with the same self-hate turned outward that you are a “fucking cunt”.
The same tone of hate in his voice that came a year ago.
I’ve learned the knack for finding any chance to get an emotional hit in will not be passed up by a human that takes zero responsibility for shitty life choices, let alone shit he does to others.
Like leave his kid to go to his car to get high. I was that kid, I remember seeing my mother taken off by ambulance.
I’ll set the record straight on this one. While I was not there, while I did not support his drug use, let him in my house knowingly if he was using. While I did get the phone call from the police and his child to pick her up where he left her when getting high was more important.
Yes, that’s all my fault. Ask him, I’m sure his story will be creative enough to justify he choices that day too…
Go easy on myself, this is a guy who could have killed me. This is the human who picked that life over one of healing. We all make our choices, and mine was to extract myself from the emotional mind fuckery and bruises don’t compliment my skin tone anyway.
I’m still an adult child of an alcoholic, I still carry guilt over the implosion of my marriage even though logically I get ‘it’.
Getting the emotions to line up with the logic. I’m as human as anyone else and I don’t need to carry the stoic I’m ok – I’m not weak enough to fall to some arbitrary date of a calendar that says it’s been a mother fucking year. Weak people do that…
Or do they? Or is it really such a bad thing to say ‘hey, I’m not a 100% right now… I am feeling sad, I’m missing the person he could have been and the process of not only accepting what isn’t because he is on the path he chose, but learning to live with my own life and not surviving the just being in the motions of it.
A year now. He got a fish that lives in one of those skull bottles you can buy vodka out of.
I got life lessons and three amazing kids, it is because of those kids I took the supports offered. At first I did it for them.
I don’t do it for them anymore… I do it for me. I’m living for me.
That is the most profound gift I can give them, I’m worth that.
They can grow to know they have worth that isn’t defined worth only given by others. They can grow to know they have worth because they are as worthy of value, like every other human.
Tomorrow they will be greedy little entitled demon spawn and I will steal all the good Halloween candy😉.
Boo mother fucker. Boo.