It was slow going and lots of work, coupled with even more work 😉 I tell bits and pieces of the story as a modality to give it less power over the shame and secrecy that is all too often the bastard child of domestic violence.
Today during therapy, my therapist told me it’s not over yet, I’m not through it yet. I guess the strong side of me was miffed at his conclusion. I’m doing pretty fucking spectacular how could I not be over the shit show?!
I told him about a weak patch I had last week, it was short lived. It didn’t take me to my knees or put my life on hold. The grasp it once had is so minimal now, so when the intense moment hit, it hit hard.
Why? I wanted to know why? What the fuck is wrong with me?
I got something out all of this…. That’s your therapeutic take! Fuck off.
However, that is the truth of it all. I gained, I grew and I went through the grit, grind and reality of it. While remaining in reality.
SK on the other hand is smart enough and could be self-aware enough to get to the other side of his own shit. He takes the easy route, so he doesn’t have to do the hard work of owning any fucking part of his bowels of life that he self-created.
His reality is hiding in a substance that in turn makes him a monster. He becomes violent, nasty, cold and calculating. He thinks crazy shit because he is ok being crazy.
The trusty old therapist said it is because I gained from this, is why I lost. I lost something that was real and tangible.
I lost my identity of being a wife, of loving a man that was once good and was once my husband.
It was a high cost to pay but I gained sense of self and self-worth. I lost something that was real as I watched a person I still love, lose reality.
Nothing in his life is real anymore. Everything that was real, is so far in his past that he’s racked up years since they existed. His reality is thinking his car is invincible, the government is following him or his the joker *and* batman simultaneously.
Why? Because drugs do that shit.
I don’t have that problem, go me.