I have realised that I need to write. I need to write because I think too much and writing helps me prioritise and process things. I have survived what my psychologist has referred to as "one of the worst cases of emotional abuse" he has seen. In fact, he has said on a number of occasions, when I have entered his rooms wanting to return to my ex so I can see my children more and claiming that the emotional attacks could not have been as bad as I remember, that my behaviour is demonstrative of extreme abuse. Apparently the brain does crazy things in trying to rationalise abuse - the ultimate form being Stockholm syndrome.
To be honest, I do not believe that my ex husband is an awful man. He was just not the right man for me. Or I was not the woman for him. Either way, we didn't work. He tried desperately to mold me into someone I was not and I dutifully complied until such point as I had lost all semblance of myself.
The last three years have been a very gradual and extremely painful journey to try to not only heal but grow as a person. In my usual fashion, I have run at it like a bull at a gate. Rather than batten down the hatches and lick my wounds, like my darling cousin has recently suggested I should have, I desperately tried to fix myself. I abused alcohol. And exercise. I ignored the pain and I tried to power on through. It was my way of avoiding falling into a pile of decaying mess. I did achieve the latter goal but the former was unattainable. The skin may have grown over some of the wounds but the infection has grown underneath. Like dry rot in timber, I am infected.
My wake up call came to me on the weekend. An unlikely sequence of events sent me spiraling into the pit of despair again. I have not visited that hole for many months. I have been soldiering on relatively comfortably for some time but on the weekend I had a good friend let me down. He had good reason to and I respect his decision but I still felt abandoned. Then I had a social event to attend with people I generally don't see often. They all had the same questions for me and, listening to my own voice as I told my story time and time again, I was hit like a bolt of lightening with the realisation that I am utterly miserable. While I thought I was doing okay, I was wrong. It was all superficial bullshit.
So, on Monday I ended a relationship with someone I adore. He's been a friend to me over the last three years and was a rock when my life turned to shit. But, if I am honest, he was unhealthy for me. While he said all the right things he could not back them up with action. I have spent all of this year and the majority of last trying to wean myself off him. He had been a reliable crutch, propping me up from afar but never really there for me when I needed him. When I finally realised that this was going to continue ad nauseam, I took the path of self preservation. As a result, I am in pain. I am once again awash with sadness and feeling a sense of failure that I cannot budge.
I do not feel guilt or regret; just sadness. An emptiness and quiet has washed over me. Quite literally, the silence has created a void. The lack of text conversation during the day has made me realise how lost I am.
I am now taking stock. I am focusing on the things that make me happy. I am reassessing all the relationships in my life. I am being totally honest with the people that I love. I accept that I love in many different ways and that most people don't understand that about me. I have found a peacefulness in my solitude.
I have been keeping myself in this place because it is familiar. As uncomfortable and painful as it is, I have made my home here. My cesspool of filth has become entrenched in the way I operate. I have been brutally honest with myself this week.
I recently booked a holiday. Travel is important to me but I keep putting it off. I have been in a pattern of self sabotage and I am taking every step to remedy that.
I have had a number of lengthy conversations with my father recently. I have cried silently while he talks to me. He is a wise man and I am very grateful for his insight and perspective.
Change is hard. I've said it before and I am sure I will say it again. I find myself making progress only to slip back into old habits. I have to continually pull myself up on my behaviour. I struggle with putting priority on my needs. I find it very difficult to look after myself. This week I have done better - I have been eating well, trying to sleep more and exercising less. I have again picked up my books - after clearing my bedside table of the pile of novels and reference material I have been wanting to read I now have only one to focus on. I pulled my camera out of storage and will try to fit some photography into my weekend. I am trying to remember the things I was passionate about as a kid and reconnect with the activities that I love; those things that bring me peace and happiness.
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