PonderEthereal

My husband, someone I loved and trusted, intentionally harmed me. In retrospect, maybe I shouldn’t have trusted him. Intentionally causing emotional and mental harm for however many years is definitely a precursor to physical harm and maybe I should have seen that. But I didnt. He was a fixture in my life for 14 years. My life was built around our relationship. And then suddenly, he was the thing that was putting me in danger. Suddenly, my the structure of my life was in peril… my home and my ability to take care of me and my son. And worst of all, suddenly, the thing that felt safest in my life meant danger.

For the first week or so, I was just in shock. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t remember, I couldn’t function. There was one day, Sexxyred1 took me to the doctor - maybe the day after it happened? And I lost 3 hours. I don’t remember a bit of it. Truly, had my friends not been there, I really don’t know how I would have just gotten through the day, much less all of the practical things like restraining orders and such that needed to be done.

So a couple of weeks passed, and as the shock cleared, I was left with a list of symptoms that was like some sort of mix between mild shock, depression and anxiety. I jumped at every shadow. I changed the locks, put alarms on the door, put padlocks on the gates and I still couldn’t feel safe. I didn’t want to leave the house. Small upsets crumbled me. I had a hard time waking up in the morning and dragging myself through my day, much less working or doing anything remotely productive.

I was diagnosed with post traumatic stress syndrome. It felt like living in a fog. Like one of those dreams where you can’t force yourself to be able to see above chest level. The world was so big and so cumbersome and I struggled to string two tasks together. I would have moments where I felt like maybe it was clearing and then days of just not being able to function. And granted, I typically function on a higher level than the average person. I think a lot, I accomplish a lot, I’m driven. But this was like minus that advantage and minus about a quarter of the average person too. I became a mere mortal. :)

Long after the physical injuries are no longer debilitating, the mental emotional injuries linger. As days pass, I feel better ad better - but it’s a slow climb, of which, I feel every step rather than a quick ascent. I still can’t work. Not working kills me. I still feel much safer when my roommate is home.

I’ve moved most of his stuff out of the living areas and not having that muck about feels like a ton of weight removed. I’m planning a party and redecorating the house and the positiveness, newness and creativity of it is going a long way toward refilling essential life energy. It’s building me back up, slowly, slowly. I laugh a little more. I lay on the couch less. Exciting thoughts of what I could work on creep in a little more often.

Digging out of this funk is hard.