Remember Remember the 23 of September, the birthday of and anniversary of reconnection with the Shitty Ex (TM).

Most people I see on a daily basis, (meaning my coworkers and clients, as well as my boyfriend and most SLC theater besties), never met the fuckwit who ruined my confidence, abused my heart, head, and various other body parts. Most would most likely find the shell-that-was-me as an unrecognizable wreck. Furthermore, most would have avoided making social ties with the wife of a slovenly, lazy, spoiled, cruel and yet otherwise unremarkable racist. Because I was the worst version of myself; he was dug into my brain like a tick, and I had no idea how poorly I was tolerating my life.

Now, this blog has been, admittedly, a source of sorrow in many ways. I began to write it while in residential care, and the entire point of the damn thing was to recall my own life. Fugue states and psychosis tend to rob you of your memories; some come back, other pieces of your life are simply gone. If you’re quite lucky, like me, you have gathered a circle of trusted friends and dear family to help with recall of the important bits. However, there’s no record in my head of much of the thoughts and words I’ve shared on this page. I can read the entries and feel a kinship with the author (me)…but trust me, I wouldn’t know much of this stuff without assistance. So reading back can be very difficult and sad. I was not a healthy lady.

Also, since it’s been 14 years since that fateful early autumn afternoon in Chicago wherein I traded my soul for ‘love’, there is a belief that I should somehow be ‘over it.’ I should have moved on (I did), I should try to forget (oh honey, I have), I should should should…

There are a few things, however, that woke me from a dead sleep at 3 am this morning, which I consider important to remember and to note.

Now, loyal readers of this strange little blog know the story. They mostly haven’t heard details of the sexual abuse, because even in my barest moments of vulnerability, I have the good common sense not to trauma-dump on the internet. Suffice to say, such things happened as to ruin my love of most casual touch and severely hinder my ability to trust a partner, and bless the boyfriend’s heart for coping with that. These readers may also recall the financial burden that remains from the divorce decree, wherein the Shitty Ex was mandated to pay half the debt he incurred in my name: he owes me over 17000 dollars. I’ll most likely never see that money, and although many, many people have pointed out it’s a fair price to never deal with the bastard again, it’s a thorn in my side. Oh, and the readers certainly know the gaslighting, coercion, and mental beating I took, especially those of you who stuck with me throughout the marriage, because I was brainwashed as hell.

So, do I forget these things? Nope. Do I forgive? That’s the complicated part. Mostly I choose to show myself grace for the things I did and the person I portrayed in my life to survive. Still, the very hardest part, the part that wakes me in these early morning hours, is the lingering and nagging doubt that’s never left my mind; the completely awful thoughts of ‘I got what I deserved.’, ‘I’ve lost the ability to love as deeply’ and that ol’ chestnut, I ‘should have left’ years before I finally did. These are the things that keep me up. These are the reasons I do not, as I’ve been advised so many times, let it all go.

For those of you who are the worrying type: please don’t. This is not an exercise in self-harm or rumination. If anything, cleansing myself of the those terrible thinking errors is a practice; it won’t be done just once, and the efficacy doesn’t last forever, but I need to. For those of you who wonder: feel free to ask. I still won’t share some of it, but I’m willing to run through the basic structure and downfall of the marriage. I’ll start off with a trigger warning, but if you want to know, I will tell.

Now, since I’ve gotten my regular 6 hours of sleep, and I’m wide awake, I might even write an entry that has absolutely nothing to do with the anniversary. Wouldn’t that be something?