The short of the long hell it’s been. Why I write is to process what this has been, to give it a voice and a name I haven’t wanted to accept.
I married a man who was emotionally abusive and a drug addict. I’m fighting the shame that comes with that. How stupid could I be, I sure as hell can see the manipulation happening to others.
Keep the secrets and look ok to the world. I’m sick of having the title of surviving. Been there, did that as a child of an alcoholic. I put my mother in the ground when I was 18, drinking killed her.
I’ve spent a year of my like surviving what he did to me. He bruised me, hurt my body. The next year he’s mindfucked me left and right. I bought into him, because, fuck. I didn’t want to be stupid enough to be the victim of domestic abuse. My own nasty judgments… I was really nothing more than a fearful little being who didn’t want to be rejected by the one person I loved and who said loved me.
I recreated my childhood trauma. I didn’t even know it until well after.
Addiction took my marriage… or did it? Did learned acceptance and poor boundaries learned in childhood set the stage to be nothing more than easy prey?
That is why I started blogging. I started in secret, to put words to my feelings.
Now, it is to have a voice.
Part of healing is to define yourself. As my therapist said, I know all I’m going to know intellectually on the topic of my ‘husband’.
Ya, he’s a piece of shit with a lifetime trail of discarded people. I’m not special, I only wanted to be. Hello codependency, you always seem to seep in – go the fuck away.
I’m learning the fine line of hate and rage. He isn’t worth the rage.
It’s time to learn it is ok to hate people who treat you like shit, even if hate is a temporary band aide, at the very least it is a step to take it off of me and give it back.