To my former lover...

I've been thinking about you a lot lately. I'd like to sit and chat so we can catch up with each other. But I know that isn't likely to happen. We are probably the only two people in the world who want the two of us being anywhere near each other. Not that I can blame the rest of the world for that.

I have to admit, I've been remembering mostly good things and very little of the bad. So much to miss, so much to regret.

Part of me wants you to see me like this - I have gained quite a bit of weight - because you were so taken with my beauty. I doubt I would get even a second glance from you now. The vain part of me wants you to remember me as the skinny woman I was, and hope to someday be again.

I am planning to look for a job soon and I can't help but want your fashion advice should I get as far as an interview. Getting someone to hire me will be a hard sell, so looking my best is pretty much a necessity.

The confidence you tried so hard to instill in me is completely gone. My husband believes in me, he just isn't very good at verbalizing it. You and I both know that my confidence is extremely high maintenance.

I still mourn the loss of our relationship - less and less as time moves on. I still cry sometimes - less often and not as hard. I lost more than "just" a relationship. I lost the hope and dreams of a lifestyle I'll never experience. I lost my escape.

I have a new normal now. The kind of normal I always expected from life - not what I wanted but making the best of it. I am loved and I am happy. But that doesn't mean I am never sad.

I saw you and your wife at a public event not that long ago. I ducked, hid, and told my husband to keep walking. I spent the rest of my time at that event watching for the two of you - constantly distracted and scanning the crowds as often as possible - because I can't possibly face both of you.

On one hand, I regret our relationship for so many reasons.
On the other hand, I can't possibly regret the relationship that kept me alive and taught me to live instead of just surviving.

I am feeling completely helpless and I desperately want the hope and selfishness you once breathed into my life.
But I can't have it.
I can't look for it.
I can't accept it if it's offered.
I shouldn't even want it.

You haunt me.

Scared

I am scared.

I hate to admit that.
I am supposed to be strong and independent and self sufficient.
In truth, I am none of those things.

I am scared because my family faces uncertainty.
We will most likely be homeless soon.
We have used up all of our lifelines and now we just have to wait for the official word to be handed down.
We have faced this before and I have had peace about it.

I am just short of panic.

I do not like where we live. But I like having a place to call home.

I am afraid that I will not have the energy needed to deal with homelessness.
My energy levels are unpredictable but I never have as much energy as a normal person. I cannot function like a normal person.
The fatigue and pain are debilitating. I cannot do the things I want. I can't even do the things I need.

I am afraid of the pain.
I spend much of my life trying to avoid pain and pretending I can be comfortable. I am in constant pain.
I am afraid of the intense pain that plays tricks on my mind, that takes control of my movements, that sends my body into shock. I am afraid of pain that pain relievers can't touch. I am afraid of pain that makes me less of a person. The pain that steals my identity and scrubs any enjoyment from life.

I have an adventurous spirit.
My body cannot handle adventure.

I am scared of failing.
Homelessness is already a form of failure. I am about to fail at failing.
There was a time when I could stay up late and get things done at the last minute. It seems that time is long gone. My body is failing me. I feel trapped. I think I wouldn't be scared if I knew I would be able to function. Instead, I'm pretty sure I won't function at all.

How am I supposed to explain to people that my body just doesn't work? No, I don't have any serious injuries. I don't have something as "accepted" as cancer (not that I wish I had cancer! Not at all!!). I have an invisible illness that won't go away. There are things that could help me in the short term, but in the long run I'm just going to get worse. That's how this thing works.

How do I explain to people that looking "fine" is completely draining? Yes, I can be fairly active for a day or two but I have to pay for it. Last week I was active for four days straight. And it just about killed me. I was living on Aleve (and still in pain) on the fourth day. My mind was slow and distant on the fourth day. On the fifth day, I could barely gather the strength to make myself ramen in the microwave. In fact, I almost didn't. I almost didn't eat on that fifth day because... it is like that drained, achey feeling that comes with the flu. I feel a version of that every day. It's usually somewhat mild - like when you've been sick and are getting better but still can't leave the house because getting dressed makes you need a nap - but that fifth day was like the height of the flu. I just wanted it to end. I wanted to feel better!

How do I explain to people that I always want fo feel better? I constantly feel sick and I constantly want to get better. The severity fluctuates but it's always there. I am never better. I very rarely feel up to going out and socializing. I am always squeaking by. The bare minimum, whatever it takes to get through the day.

Whatever it takes to survive.

Three years

My husband and I have been married for three years.

I read every "marriage strengthening" article I can get my hands on from credible sources. Just today I read some of those articles.

I try not to compare.
I really, really try not to compare because I know that comparison destroys contentment.

In the articles I read today, people were talking about how difficult the first few years of marriage were for them. I couldn't help but compare my marriage to what I was reading. My marriage definitely came out on the better side of those comparisons.

Our marriage is very far from perfect.
We both entered this relationship with plenty of baggage.
We had a child sooner than we should have.
We pretty much did everything wrong.

Yet, we seem to be doing pretty well.

Please try to understand the context of what I say... we are currently so broke that we have not done a full grocery shopping trip this whole month. There are important decisions not being discussed. Health is being neglected. Frustrations being ignored. Needs not being met. Love languages not being spoken/heard.

Some days are hard.
Some days are merely survived.
But most days are good.
Most days are joyful.
Some days are even really happy.

While I think we could benefit from couples counseling (as could most couples), our relationship is not in peril. Neither one of us has any desire to leave. We do talk about running away together to a private island but that's something else entirely.

I thought for sure we would have had some huge fight by now. I thought for sure I'd want to run away. This is the longest I have been in a serious relationship.

There was a time, in our first year of marriage, when I wanted to run. I wanted to run because a healthy, loving relationship was so foreign to me. I told my husband how I felt and I assured him I would not leave. The feelings passed and have never really returned. I try to stay prepared for their return - I don't want to be blindsided - but it has yet to be an issue again.

I didn't know I could be this happy, for this long, in less than ideal circumstances.
I am beyond blessed.

Vivid dreams

I don't like having vivid dreams, they are very disorienting.

Last night I had a vivid dream about my husband dying. I watched him die in a horrible accident. A year later I was living with my parents and was lucky to go half-an-hour without breaking down because I missed him so much.

As I was waking up this morning, I fully expected to wake up alone in my parent's house.
When I was awake enough to look over and see my husband, I teared up because I was so happy he was alive.

Part of me is grateful for a renewed attitude of gratitude.
Part of me thinks I can't handle these kinds of dreams.
Most of me just doesn't like them.

I am scared to sleep.
I am afraid of the fresh horrors waiting for me.

I can still tell you, in detail, how he died. I can still feel the overwhelming, all encompassing grief. I remember the emptiness I felt. I can tell you how people reacted to me.

Right now I can hear my husband snoring but just remembering that dream - which I wouldn't even classify as a nightmare - makes me cry.

I want to yell "why is my brain doing this to me?!?"
But I'm afraid I already know the answer - I am too damaged to be happy. My brain, my heart, can only process pain and lonliness, disappointment and heartbreak.

I am at a strange place in life. I am happier than I have ever been, yet the stress is high and very real. A helpless little person depends on me for everything... how can that not be stressful? And there are plenty of other stressors. But I'm still so much happier!

I sometimes joke to myself about our "fairytale romance" because even though I am so much happier I still get mad at my husband far too often. I let him down, he lets me down, we both have said hurtful things, we fight about dumb stuff... but we enjoy making up, and being silly, and holding hands, and we love each other enough to fight for our relationship.

Love.
Hm.
The thing that used to terrify me and still scares me a little. Maybe my bad dreams are part of the healing - like when a wound itches like crazy because it's healing. Maybe this is just my brains, and hearts, version of itching.

I still don't like it.

FOO

I still haven't spoken to my abuser. My abuser is still in jail awaiting conviction and sentencing.

Most people who know the situation understand my not speaking to him. Most people who know the situation wonder why I was speaking to him before he was arrested.

It is complicated to say the least.

My family of origin doesn't seem to understand any of that. My family of origin (FOO) acts as if nothing has ever happened between myself and my abuser. My FOO talks to me about my abuser as if this has nothing to do with me.

This has everything to do with me.

The master of passive-aggressiveness in my FOO is starting to work on me, laying the ground work for pressuring me into communicating with my abuser. I can see it coming like a train in a tunnel.

My husband supports me.
My husband was somewhat uneasy with me being friends with my abuser. But he still supported me in that decision.
When I mention to my husband that I have no reason to communicate with my abuser, he agrees with me in a way that... as if it is the most obvious thing in the world for me to not speak to my abuser.

Some in my FOO expect me to act like nothing has happened. I think most in my FOO don't even realize that this situation could be difficult for me.

I will eventually contact my abuser. I know myself well enough to know that.

But, for once in my life, I have some control. I can spend time with my FOO and then go home! I'm not trapped having to hear about my abuser everyday. I have a home where I feel safe. At some point I may have to put my foot down and tell my FOO "no, this is my decision to make" and the world won't end. My FOO cannot make me miserable like they once did.

I am safe and supported.

I used to self-harm. I stopped while still living with my FOO but I would still think about harming myself. There were plenty of times I wanted to self-harm and had to do something else to distract me.

I do not self-harm. I didn't even think about self-harming until I thought back to when I was living with my FOO. How broken I was.

I still bear the emotional scars of all that has happened to me. This mess with my abuser has a way of rubbing hard against those scars.

I refuse to bleed again.

Dear son,

I sit here watching you play in the rocks and I think to myself, "this is how it's supposed to be." Unhurried, unworried... just peaceful and quiet.
The evening is pleasantly warm after a hot day. The sun is slipping closer to the horizon, painting the sky with such beautiful colors.
Yet I can't stop watching you.
You are my only concern at the moment.
You are facing me and seem to be unaware of me. I know you are aware of me because if I wasn't right here, you would be upset. You are sitting on the ground, piling rocks in the space between your legs and piling dirt and rocks on top of your legs.
You are absorbed in your work. I do not know what you are thinking but I know that you are learning a little bit about how the world works. To some people it looks like mindless play. Those people have too much on their minds and too little patience.
You are experiencing. Maybe you are realizing the reality of gravity. Maybe you are noticing that rocks make a bigger landing impact than grains of dirt. Maybe you are processing the sensations in your hands and legs.
The world is big - you have much to learn - and even in this seemingly mindless task I can see your mind working.

The peace and joy I feel in this moment are almost overwhelming.
I love you more than I ever thought possible.
I wish I could bottle up this peace and happiness for you because there will be plenty of times you'll need it.
But right now...
Right now is perfect.

AI

It is almost two-thirty a.m. as I begin to write this. I am the only member of my family who is not in bed. I am not in bed because I am in so much pain that I cannot sleep and being in bed was making the pain worse.

I hate this.

I am in pain because I actually dared to get something done yesterday. Though the real punishment started after trying to get two things done. IN ONE DAY. Because that's apparently against the new rules of my body.

When did/do the rules change?
Whenever my body damn well felt/feels like it.

I have fairly recently discovered that a number of my health issues may be caused by one or more autoimmune (AI) disorders. If there is one, there is likely to be another because AI disorders get lonely, I guess.

There are some symptoms that are common among most AI disorders - namely joint pain and fatigue - that leave a person feeling almost constantly sick.

You know when you've been sick for a while, and you want to be better, so you start doing things but do too much and then feel worse? That's where I live. And sometimes that "feeling worse" includes pain that the highest label dose of the most effective (for me) over-the-counter pain reliever can't quite beat. That's the pain I am feeling right now. This pain started, and woke me up, well after I took the highest label dose of my pain reliever of choice. And this pain reliever usually helps me sleep.

I am tired. I need sleep. I don't deal well with pain.

I have always had a feeling that my joint pain wasn't right - that it wasn't at all normal - and that what people and doctors were telling me was not correct.

My joint pain was not caused by excessive weight, because the pain got worse while - and after - I lost 90lbs. I was 5lbs away from my "ideal" BMI and I could barely function some days.

I readily admit that I am not as healthy as I once was and that is part of the reason why my symptoms are worsening.
There are conflicting reports about how to treat AI disorders.
Some people respond perfectly well to prescription medication.
Quite a few people can't tolerate the side effects.
Some say a gluten-free diet can trigger remission.
Some say only a paleo diet leads to remission.
Some claim that cutting out GMOs will heal just about everything.
Some say that vegan is the only sane diet.
Some swear by yoga.
Others tout the healing benefits of aerobic exercise.
Some people take fistfulls of herbal and vitamin supplements.
Some claim that supplements are nothing but hokum.

I would like to improve my/our diet yet I don't know where to start. The baker in me (who has a small stockpile of all-purpose flour) does not want to go gluten-free. The cheap/broke part of me doesn't want to cut out GMOs. The fatigue doesn't want me to stray from the most convenient of convenience foods.
I don't even know where to start.

There is a book that supposedly has an effective plan for AI remission but I can't afford it. Even the ebook version is too expensive and only slightly cheaper than a hardback copy. I could probably find a copy of this book at the library but that would require me having the energy to get there. And then having the energy to return it before there are any fees.

Yes, I am aware that I am feeling sorry for myself. Writing about it helps me get it out of my system so I'm not carrying the self-pity with me for the forseeable future. sigh.

After sitting in a strange position for a while I am feeling better, the pain is almost gone, and I am feeling sleepy.
I hope this is also the end of my self-pity and sleeplessness.
At least for tonight.

Hypervigilance

I was recently at a pet-friendly convention with my family. It was fun and horrific all at the same time.

Hypervigilance is very exhausting. To be constantly aware of the details around you is extremely taxing. Especially when crowds, our dogs, and our son are involved.

There were a lot of people and a lot of dogs at this event. The aisles were narrow and to get anywhere I had to wade through the mass of people and dogs. Most of the people and dogs were friendly and considerate but that did not help to decrease my awareness. I was constantly aware of where people were,where they were heading, how they seemed to be handling the crowd, how they seemed to be handling the dogs, how often they looked down, how aware they seemed to be of their surroundings, how the dogs were acting and interacting... all of that information was constantly processing while we were at this event.

I am not as hypervigilant as I used to be. The safety I feel with my little family has allowed me to relax a bit. Which added to my stress.
Never in my life have I apologized for bumping into so many people in such a short time. Being surprised while hypervigilant is unsettling to say the least.

Part of the reason I was surprisable is because my attention was focused in front of me - where my husband, son, and dogs were located. When I am "worried" about only myself I have a much wider area of awareness, I can sense things things behind me. Most of the people I bumped into came from behind me.

Part of me wants to be rid of the hypervigilance because it is so exhausting. Part of me doesn't want lose it because it has become part of who I am.

It was only in the past... five-ish years that I really realized most people don't live this way. Most people can sit with their back to the room and not give it a second thought. Most people don't watch reflections in windows and pictures and tv screens.
I am not most people.

I like to sit where officers like to sit - with my back to the wall, facing the room and especially facing the exits. I want to see who enters and exits. I want to know where all of the people are all the time.
I am constantly scanning for a  threat and possible exit strageties.
Sitting in a restaurant is exhausting.
The grocery store is exhausting.
Wal Mart is hell.
Even sitting in a movie theatre can be exhausting as I track people by the sounds they make.

There is no break. I have relaxed some but there is no turning it off.
I am always on.
Always watching.
Always vigilant.

Preventing

I should be sleeping but instead I am preventing.
Preventing flashbacks, preventing nightmares, preventing thoughts of self-harm.
I have had a long, physically draining day but the emotional drain has taken the bigger toll on me.

Earlier today I was engaged in conversation about my abuser. The conversation was not on my terms. The person driving the conversation was not aware of my... sensitivity. And, truth be told, I was fine with the conversation when it was happening.

Here I sit. Processing, thinking, preventing.

I cannot tell you how exhausted I am.
I cannot tell you how scared I am to fall asleep.
My nightmares are rarely about my abuser. My nightmares are about my son being in peril/pain/dying, about mass suffering, about my husband being gone. I have died in my nightmares. I have been blown up, murdered, tortured, messed up in ways I don't have the stomach to describe. My nightmares are vivid. Oftentimes, my nightmares seem more real than actual reality. All of my senses are keener in my nightmares. The pain is more painful, lights brighter, shadows darker, emotions higher, loneliness unending, and hope nonexistent.

My nightmares terrify me.

My flashbacks are not always a re-experiencing of the abuse. I haven't had a flashback like that in quite a few years. Lately my flashbacks have been a re-experiencing of the emotions and physical "echos" I would feel after I was abused. The physical "echos" are most simply described as skin crawling and feeling like you need to wash the feel of something/someone off of your skin. Flashbacks can leave me feeling physically drained, achy, and generally unwell. They can also leave me an emotional basket-case. I am keenly aware of my sanity's mortality.

I need to be sleeping.

I have been going non-stop for 20+ hours. My body does not function well on too little sleep and my brain won't function at all. I am already getting a sleep deprivation headache.

I continue to type.

I am afraid to sleep. I am afraid to feel.
I am afraid of feeling nothing. I am afraid of rage. I am afraid of feeling pity. I am afraid of finding solace. I am afraid of feeling happy. I am afraid of feeling fragile. I am afraid of feeling controlled. I am afraid of feeling confined. I am afraid of feeling what my abuser feels.

I should be sleeping.

I am afraid of what my mind will do to me after I close my eyes.
During the abuse, my body was used against me. I felt betrayed by my body because it reacted the way it was designed to. My body was being used in ways it was never meant to be used.
My mind continues the abuse. My mind betrays me. My mind will never let me forget.
Sometimes I feel like a hostage of my own mind.

I should be sleeping.

I should be in bed with my husband.
My husband makes me feel safe. My husband keeps me safe.
When I am able to find him in my nightmares, the nightmare stops. He is my out.
I can hear my husband gently snoring. The sound makes me smile. It is the sound of peace and rest. A reminder of sanity and love.

I need to be sleeping.
I need to be in bed.
My need to be in bed with my husband is greater than my fear.
My husbands love is greater than my fear.
My husband is pretty great.

Is there a should?

I am sitting here, alone, in my living room.
It's late at night, my family is all in bed, and I want to turn on my very old laptop. I want to type faster. I want to let my thoughts out. I want to get my thoughts down. And I know that if I was typing on my laptop, I would feel something.
Right now I don't know what I'm feeling, what I should be feeling. If there even is a "should" for my feelings in this situation.

My abuser was arrested for a crime that has nothing to do with me.
Except for the fact that he is my abuser and everything he does has something to do with me and my emotions. He admitted to committing the crime so he is where he obviously belongs - in jail.
Should I be happy about that? Should I rejoice in his punishment?
Of late, he has been a good friend to me. Truth be told, we've been good friends for many more years than not. For now that friend is gone. I can't contact him with some funny thing that only he would understand, a joke that makes me think of him, an internet video that fits his sense of humor.
Part of me is reevaluating our friendship. Life is not as simple as it once was - I have a son to raise. And I certainly don't want my son to end up like me.

The parent/child relationship. It's an interesting and complicated thing.
My friends have asked how I am doing, my abusers family has asked how I am doing,
my family of origin has not.
Should I be offended? It bothers me a little that my abuser and his family acknowledged my last birthday while my family of origin did not. But should it?

I have been on edge since I found out my abuser was arrested.
My PTSD has flared slightly.
I have cried, but not hard.
I have had conversations with my abuser in my head.
I have had conversations about my abuser in my head.
I have discussed the situation with my husband.
I have explained the situation to friends.
I tell my friends that I am okay.

I am okay, aren't I?

I have no thoughts of self-harming, no thoughts of harming anyone else, I'm not depressed or angry.
Yet my sleep is erratic at best.
My patience is constantly thin.
I feel like I'm moving through emotional Jell-o.

I feel heavy.

I want time alone to process. As much as it scares me, I want to know what I'm feeling. Since I'm already feeling it on some level, it would be nice to have a label for it. For this... this nothingness that most definitely is something.

I wish I was typing on my laptop right now. The laptop that knows things about me no person has ever known, my only friend at a time when I was friendless. Unfortunately, getting her out would probably wake my family. I'm not even sure she'll run well enough to type on.
Besides, I should go to bed and pretend that I can sleep.
And pretend that my sleep is restful.
And pretend that I am perfectly fine.