The Climb Continues

It seems like so long ago. But it still feels like yesterday.

Some things have gotten better, some have gotten worse, and still some have stayed the same. I was thinking about it one night and I have been giving myself the “you’ll heal with time” speech for a really long time now. So I decided maybe I need to figure out exactly how long it usually takes PTSD to “go away”. Because by now I should be seeing the light at the end of the tunnel at least, right?

Well…….it would seem as though it doesn’t just “go away”. My brain is actually physically different now than what it was 7 years ago. Can you comprehend that? An adult brain can actually change (contrary to what we were always taught in school) and the physical nature can be changed through continuous trauma. It took me awhile to ponder over that. I don’t have a laundry list of symptoms that will just magically get better with time. I have a list that I have to live with and figure out how best to live with them and keep them from affecting my life so much.

What’s gotten better? The frequency of severe panic attacks. The fear of falling back into the “victim role” as it applies to “him”, of feeling like he could take back control of my head with just minutes alone with him. A lot of the unhealthy coping mechanisms. The way I see myself as a person with value and worth and most of all, a whole lot of strength and determination.

What’s gotten worse? The depression. The overall inability to handle even the smallest crisis. The tolerance I have for the self destructive thoughts that I used to be able to talk myself through because I knew they’d pass. The inability to think clearly when faced with difficult decisions. The desire for isolation. The uncontrollable detachment from myself and inability to “snap out of it”. Dissociation.

What’s stayed the same? The startle response. The fear of him returning or wanting to see his children. The inability to be in crowded places. The feeling of being a chastised child or feeling talked down to when it’s probably in my own head. The feeling that he was right whenever my ability to be a mother falls short of his expectations. The feeling that I will never again be “happy”.

PTSD can be made better or worse depending on the support system that holds you together. That explains everything when it comes to me. I have very little and I wish I was just “being dramatic” as i was always told. However, it’s a fact. I have had to develop the mentality of doing it all myself. If I come to depend on someone for assistance with anything, there is no back up plan. (simple example, I sent my son to a school where he doesn’t have a bus option and his friends mother was all too overjoyed to take him and pick him up everyday. Until her child started getting sick and her only reason to leave was to have to get my kid.) And then mine got sick and I apparently texted her after she had left her house. What I got felt too much like being “fussed at”, and it’s not worth feeling that way. But that’s just a simple example, even when you can’t do it all perfectly, you still have to do it perfectly.

So fuck it, I’ll continue climbing this mountain alone.

I Can’t Find My Way Home

My children hate me. At least the youngest two, after all, they tell me all the time. Everyday.

I think I’d hate me too. I’ve recently placed a word with it; disengaged. I used to be what I considered to be a really good mother. I stress “used to be”. I took for granted that would ever change, because nobody sets out to become a crappy parent. I didn’t plan on having a “vacation” from being a happy mother, who loved all of the fun things that come along with childhood.

Now I have no reserve. Everything is too loud, too chaotic, too stressful. I’m tired.

I was ok with some of this in a way because I would heal and eventually begin to recognize myself again. But it’s been well over a year and plan A isn’t working. The problem is, there was no other plan.

“Mom we really don’t do anything anymore.” What do you say? One of the easiest ways to deal with life and all the judgement waiting outside, is to simply never leave your comfort zone.

Something has to change. I just don’t know how to fix it. One day I’m going to wake up and they are going to be gone; moved out, started their own lives. And I’m going to have missed it because I couldn’t bring myself back into the real world. They’ll tell stories of growing up with a mother who was depressed, isolated, irritated, and…..disengaged. Regret, shame and embarrassment fill the empty spaces in my head. The spaces that aren’t already filled with sadness, self-doubt and paranoia.

I don’t want to be the person I was pre-abusive husband. But I don’t want to be the person I am now either.

“From the start

She knew she had it made .Easy up ’til then

For sure she’d make the grade. Adorers came in hordes

To lay down in her wake. She gave it all she had

But treasures slowly fade. Now she’s falling hard

She feels the fall of dark. How did this fall apart

She drinks to fill it up. A smile of sweetest flowers

Wilted so and soured. Black tears stain the cheeks

That once were so admired. She thinks when she was small

There on her father’s knee. How he had promised her

You’ll always be my baby. Daddy come quick

The dreaming tree has died. I can’t find my way home

There is no place to hide. The dreaming tree has died”~ Dave Matthews Band

I Know You

I got a friend request from a bizarre profile on Facebook. Not the first time at all. But I wondered what had triggered this recent round of “let me screw with my wife”.

His birthday was a few days ago and someone I know felt the need to reach out and see how he was doing and tell him Happy Birthday. (i think she realizes now that was a bad idea) Last time they spoke, he told her he was “halfway across the country living at truck stops”. I said what that really means is; he’s been hiding in the woods outside my house.

Anyway, this profile was “Valient Thor”, because that’s not glaringly fake. Why in the holy hell does he think I’d fall for that?! There’s been more since. He’s now having things sent to my house addressed to him. Hey stupid, you haven’t lived here in 2 years. He has a new victim, if only they came with a flashing red light. More lives for him to destroy. More women and children for him to use and abuse. I’d love to scream “run as fast as you can!”, but we know that isn’t reality.

Memory Lane…..literally 

I was working, which involves going to people’s houses. I had been asked to go to a city a distance away and I wasn’t at all happy about it. As I was getting closer though I realized I was headed straight for our old “stomping grounds”. Where he lived, where his best friend lived, where he worked, where his sister lived, where I drove so many times over a five year span. 

I realized as I got closer to “that exit”, I was pleading with my GPS not to tell me it was the exit I needed to take. Well I decided long ago my GPS hates me any damn way, so of course that was my exit. Suddenly I was in the center of a vortex of memories. 

And I couldn’t breathe. My heart was racing, I was sweating, I was shaking. I had to stop at a gas station. It took me 40 minutes before I could make myself drive. I really never thought I would have that much of a reaction, I thought I was past a lot of that bullshit…….but I’ve thought that several times before and I’m always wrong. 

Welcome Back

“What the fuck?” stopped covering it a long time ago. Seriously. I could ask myself “is he serious?” But the answer is always YES.

So I got on a dating site awhile back……if you haven’t done this and you actually want to meet a “nice guy”, don’t bother. If you are looking for A+ entertainment….go for it.

Anyway, this idiot lived here for 4+ years, has my number, Facebook messenger, email; you know, all the conventional ways you might contact your daughter’s mother or maybe YOUR WIFE. But we’re dealing with an illogical person. He writes me on March 25th on this dating site….that I haven’t been on in forever. I didn’t even see it until May 1st. Here’s what my little love muffin had to say;

“I can’t believe you’re still on here. Smh…Hope you guys are alright. Hope, even more you wished the same for me. I need those papers from you. Let me go or say something. We both know, you’ve known where you can find me the whole time.”

And then he deleted that profile. Did I mention he has me blocked on Facebook, he changes his number as much as he does girlfriends and who the fuck knows where he lives! Yet, “we both know, blah, blah, blah”

Let me interpret this into sociopathic language; “I’m a loser (ok, maybe i added that for fun) I can’t keep a girlfriend anymore, I want to remind you we are still married (after all, it used to mean something so let me try to play on your heart strings), and I hope you feel guilty for not taking care of me and this is your fault because you know how to find me. Has it been long enough for you to have come to your senses (aka; forgot i was an abusive asshole) because i need someone to support me.” Oh yeah, and then I’m going to block you because that’s always been a wonderful way to screw with you.

IF I could reply; “Dear darling husband, you are still here too or you couldn’t have messaged me. Hope you rot in hell. Hope, even more….IT’S REAL DAMN HOT! You don’t need shit from me. I DID let you go and said a whole lot in the process. And we both know, you’re full of shit.”

I love it (not so much) when people think his absence means he’s gone.

Bye Bye Baby

April 17, 2016.

That’s the last time I was face to face with the person that created this never ending hurricane.

That’s the last time my daughter saw her father.

That’s the last time my stepson saw him in person.

It seems like so long ago. I remember asking him for months if he wanted to see them and he kept telling me how busy he was….oh yeah, he had gotten a new job and predictably, he was stellar. They were ready to make him a supervisor after a month. Haha, everything with him was enormously over inflated. I remember my daughter staring at the ground and she wouldn’t look at him for a long time. I remember him telling his son all about going to some stupid shit (a go cart speedway or something) and thinking how that must make him feel.

His son used to text him and message him. His father no longer replies to those texts or messages. At all.

He will when he needs something he can use his son for…..

The Past Is Your Home

     I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make sense out of something that will never be comprehensible. I am so out of touch with just about everyone in my life, or anyone that USED to be in my life. I don’t know how to make it stop. It used to be that I simply couldn’t relate with anyone on any everyday level. Then it felt like things were getting better, I was gaining ground and moving forward. When I stopped for a moment to take inventory, there was no one there. As I looked around, no one was standing there. Not even the people that just stuck around to watch me fail. How did I get here?

       In exactly one week will be our two year anniversary. Two years of being married, for 6 months. I’m married. I have a husband. I’m someone’s wife. I have a wedding ring and a few pictures to prove it. As that two year date approaches, I am more heartbroken now than I was nearing our one year anniversary. 

        I wait patiently to find out what next week will bring. I’ve been nonexistent to him for almost a year now (except the occasional cussing out I’ve received). But as we all know, sociopaths are unpredictable in their timing. Although predictable in their actions. 

        I’m falling off a cliff. Becoming more isolated, more angry, more apathetic. Becoming someone that I completely do not recognize.