There’s something impossibly gorgeous about spending time with loved ones who knew me prior to my abuse.
Those who held onto who they knew I was, even after manipulation and threats made me complicit in ripping friendships to shreds.
Those who help me believe my own experiences.
Those who treat me like I’m worthy of being forgiven.
Those with the ability to, for a moment, help me remember the carefree, joyful young woman I was before my stint in hell.
I am so damned lucky to have them.
Raise a glass.
The curse of the blackened eye
For five years, my abuser did his best to torpedo every one of my relationships. I needed my social supports, which was exactly why he wanted to dismantle them.
His jealousy knew no bounds, and there was little he wouldn’t do when it came to ensuring he had me all to himself.
A few of the tactics he used to isolate me included monitoring my communications, public humiliation, physical/sexual violence, and stalking.
Incurring his wrath instilled in me a very real concern for the safety of my loved ones. I became paranoid and exhausted, bending over backwards trying to appease him and avoid punishment. I was so afraid of others getting caught in the crossfire that it felt easier and safer to isolate myself instead.
After escaping that relationship and fleeing my hometown in an effort to find safety, I was heartbroken to think it spelled the end of so many relationships I hadn’t had the chance to repair.
At the time, it didn’t feel like I had another option. My ex siphoned my savings, destroyed my mental health, and left me flinching at the sight of every white truck I saw. He’d leeched into my sense of safety and painted it black. Everything in me screamed to run.
Forgiveness. Can you imagine?
In the couple of years that have passed since my move, much of my recovery has involved healing the trauma caused to my relationships during my period of abuse.
This week, I’ve been fortunate enough to spend time with several close friends who have been with me through it all. I truly don’t think I’ve laughed so much, or so honestly, since about the summer of 2015. It simply heals.
I was aware I had wonderful people in my life before, but I’ve been overwhelmingly grateful at their response and support, even from a world away.
I hope all of his victims have loved ones like that.
I hope all victims have loved ones like that.
I hope they see.
I hope one of them finally does something.
I hope this is finally doing something.
I hope it’s enough.