I am so frightened, the tremors continue to creep up on me, my legs shake, my heart feels like it is pounding, my stomach is churning and my hands are barley able to type these words. What is it I have pent up inside me that needs to come out?....anger, sadness, fear, embarrassment....EVERY THING AROUND ME ANNOYS ME! My friend's cell phone ringing and his lackadaisical manner of answering it, the way he wiggles his feet all the time as a nervous, unconscious habit, the fact that my dishes still sit in the sink because I am to tired to do them...all of this chips away at my patience.
I AM ANGRY! I AM ANGRY! I AM ANGRY! I AM ANGRY! I AM ANGRY! I AM ANGRY! I AM ANGRY!
I AM SCARED OF THE PHYSICAL SHIT THAT COMES OUT WITH OUT ME BEING ABLE TO STOP IT, I AM TIRED OF THE TREMORS AND PALPITATIONS BECOMING ALL I THINK ABOUT RATHER THAN THE LIFE HAPPENING AROUND ME! I AM TIRED OF SITTING ON THIS DAMN COUCH AFRAID OF DYING! Isn't that what I am doing? Letting my spirit die but not celebrating it, not living in the moment and being thankful for what I have? Not laughing when a joke is funny because I am so stuck inside my fears, not getting a good nights sleep because I am so afraid of not waking up to see another sunrise.
I am so angry that my sense of safety has been taken away from me! I walked around for a year afraid of a man who deep down I knew was going to hurt me. I walked on pins and needles afraid to wake the sleeping bear. I put on a smile big enough that no one questioned. I pretended to be supportive and become agreeable to everything. All of this because I am afraid. Afraid that one day he will snap! One day he will actually begin poison me little by little. One day he will take me on that Sunday afternoon drive down some remote road and leave me there bloody and beaten. I walked around for a year fearing what he was capable of.
I used to find books on the female psyche tucked in far corners of the closet or basement. One time I got caught looking at such a book (titled the psychology of women) and was told he reads books like this one because he wanted to know what makes us women tick, so he could better deal with out PMS or depression issues. Played it off as a caring, loving gesture rather than the sociopolitical behavior I later began to realize. I would find needles in the bathroom drawers. He would tell me they were left over from when his cat had needed injections for an illness and he found them useful for extracting zits. I found random vials of prescription drugs belonging to other people, Ambian, Xanex, and chemo drugs from a relative. His clever answer to justify these were...why waste them, doctors wouldn't prescribe them if they were harmful. He would tell me he never took them, or that he only tried them once. I walked around wondering if the food he was pushing on me was tainted with these medications to harm me. Seems totally irrational right? Some say it does, to that I tell them this...
He was obsessed with convincing me that he was someone that could be trusted! He told me over and over again that if anything ever happened to me he would be the one to rescue me. He would drive with me various routes to the local hospital to show me he knew the fastest route and I had nothing to worry about. Thing is...why or what did I have to worry about in the first place?...Why would he think I had no trust in him, I basically was a yes girl. I am not a psychologist so I couldn't even begin to speculate, but my intuition was telling me that NOTHING about any of this was safe! Yet I stayed.
Perhaps part of me wanted to rehabilitate him. Perhaps part of me wanted to be the one to get through to him and get him to be a better person...Mostly I was just afraid. Frightened because every time I tried to leave the attacks got worse. Every time the urge to flee arose I convinced myself that it was safer to just ride that moment out and the next time would be a better opportunity. I wanted to run every moment but felt paralyzed. Instead I sat there, heart pounding, hands sweating, stomach in knots, feeling totally disconnected from my body day after day.
So why do I still feel this way? four years later and I am still afraid something in going to kill me. A heart palpitation, the tremors, food, medications, you name it. Why am I still walking around afraid if he is no longer in my life? Is it because he is still apart of my memories or deeper...Oh that frightens me to even contemplate such a disgusting thing. It absolutely appalls me to think of him still apart of me! yet, every time I walk in the footsteps of fear that is exactly what is happening. I am allowing this emotion he instilled in me to take control. I am giving the fear he created the power, and I MUST find a ways to stop the fear. Take away its power and control. I need to harness the power to control my own emotions and take charge of my life. I need to empower myself to take back my life, rediscover my laugh, polish up my smile, and paint my life colorful!
Taking check on my body as I end this blog I notice: I am not shaking anymore, I am not focusing on every single breath I take, I am not listening to my heart pound in fear. When I take a deep breath I can feel my body slowly letting go of the tension. Slowly, I am gaining on this fear, preparing to attack and dismantle it.