My life was stolen.
A few years ago I fell into a relationship. It was fast and passionate and i had no clear view of the future because I was so involved in the moment. I wish I had seen ahead.
A few months into the relationship the abuse started. First emotional and quickly accelerating to physical. I had bruises that looked like galaxies and covered my body. I washed blood out of the carpets. The police were by so often that when I finally went in to file a restraining order they thought it was a joke and didn't give me one because I would be back with him in a few days anyway.
Everyone in my life was afraid I was going to die, that I would be killed by this man but were helpless because the only person that could leave him was me.
And i did it. I fucking woke up and i did it. I got out, alive. In those moments I had power. I regained my life. I was strong.
Until a few months later when the power was stolen from me too.
I woke up to him, in my house, over my bed, with a knife.
He broke in, in the middle of the night.
I screamed and I fought, my room mate woke up. Without her i wouldn't have lived the incident.
We fought, we turned into animals, all nails and teeth and wildly kicking and punching landing everything we could. We got him out the door. We barricaded it. He fled.
I lost it.
I remember sitting on top of a tall boy shelving unit looking in to the darkness waiting for the police to come and losing my mind when they drove past my house in the dark.
He walked, then a month later was arrested for breaching the boundary.
He spent too little time in jail.
His sentence was lessened because he "found god" like that made him a goddamn saint.
Its manipulation at its finest. You have to be a great manipulator to have someone stay in a relationship with you even as they beat the snot out of you.
Everything i felt safe doing I quit. Anywhere I thought he would look for me i gave up. This included the shelter, this included the gym, this included my job. I quit.
So it has been less than 3yrs since the incident and I am slowly trying to reclaim my life because it was stolen.
I'll never fully reclaim it. The PTSD i was left with has activated my amygdala. The fight or flight response operates every one of my activities, it's never quiet. Sort of like how Bruce Banner said his secret is that he is always angry, i am always scared. There is never any rest in it. So i guess like Banners secret is the Hulk, mine is appearing normal.
But I'll never stop trying to get back what was taken.
