I'm beginning to think that Lucy is planning my demise ... death by scare tactics. Here she is perched on top of the utility cabinet ... after I jumped nearly a foot when I saw her move out of the corner of my good eye.
I should be doing laundry today at the laundromat, but I've realized that I'm not comfortable there and cannot bring myself to go. It is not far from me, but they only allow three people in the building at a time, and my hypervigilance since the issues with my ex has made me more than a little afraid of situations like that. Especially around people I don't know. I hate to admit that fear and PTSD have gained the upper hand in my life. My motto used to be to face it and beat it. But now ... it may take me a little longer to reach that point again.
Truth be told, when I used to think that my previous "abuser" was the worst, he was really just a controlling a-hole who liked to verbally and psychologically threaten, belittle and abuse me, hitting me once with a rake handle when he was angry. He was predictable, and he was sober ~ or at least a dry drunk since he didn't work a program. Healing from 12 years with him was as easy as standing up to him and walking away. It was not "all" bad times with him, and when he was in a happy place mentally, we were both happy. I stayed until the bad times outnumbered the happy ones, and his sexual interests went to a place that I did not want to go.
The thing that has affected me the most with "D" is that he is an active drunk and drug addict, and completely unpredictable. He said and did things and then later either had no memory of them or chose to deny that they happened and I was the "crazy" one. He uses the excuse of mental illness and his alcoholism/addictions as if it clears him of all wrongdoing, and never wants to accept responsibility for his actions. He had on three occasions broken into houses to get to me when I had tried to keep him out. In the ten years, we were together, the bad outnumbered the happy. I was guilted into staying after the first two, and then I was not in a position to leave for the last six. It was not until I found a job that would move with me, and his instability and threats to harm me became more frequent that I felt I no other option than to leave the state and try to get somewhere that he would not find me.
Now, in spite of just being convicted in early February of violating the 4-year restraining order against him, he has already tried to find me by using his friends to contact me under the pretense of splitting a Covid Stimulus check with me. That was always the other issue of fear with him. His so-called friends and "buddies." People he met five minutes before at a bar or during a drug deal became his buddies and would be welcomed into the house, and his life, as if he had known them forever. There were many, many nights I would stay in the bedroom out of fear, using the bathroom in a trash can because I didn't want to go outside the room. All because he had invited a half dozen strangers into the house and they were jamming on his electric guitars at 3am after the bars had closed. His circles always include people who would steal, harm, use, or abuse ... and unfortunately, that was sometimes members of his own family. When he got out of prison the first time, it was his own niece who got him hooked again on meth.
With friends like his, I didn't need enemies.
So here I am, afraid to be the only one, or one of three, in an unfamiliar laundromat. Washing underclothes in the bathroom sink until I can afford to get a washer and dryer. Buying jeans and tops at the Goodwill. Trying to find my courage again to step out into the unknown with confidence and my Amazon shield before me.
Healing takes time. You have taken several big steps but full recovery will take longer - and probably professional help. Hugs.
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