consumatesurvivor - Tumblr blog

[consumatesurvivor]

Fears While Doing Dishes

I was almost crying while washing the dishes.  I was terrified of my stepfather yelling at me for making noise while washing the dishes.  I heard him snapping at me to be quiet and do the dishes later because he was watching TV.  I envisioned closing myself into the guest bedroom I’ve been staying in to flee from him and give him space.  I had this whole scenario played out in my head of the snarky comments I’d make.  Two months ago it would have happened in reality.  Tonight, nothing happened at all.

Later, my mother ran the garbage disposal while he was watching a news program and it hit me, she’s been making tons of noise and he hasn’t said a thing to her.  He was on a speakerphone call in the dinning area while she ran the disposal then and he didn’t say a thing.  She washes dishes, makes noise, does whatever she wants, and no one says a thing.

The main house is all open so the kitchen, dinning area, living room, and gathering areas are mostly all in one large space.  Noise carries so anyone in the kitchen will disturb the person in the living room.  In my husband’s apartment, every room was separate and had a heavy duty fire door that should have automatically shut, but all were propped open.  Everything there was very separate yet no matter where I was I was making too much noise. 

I didn’t get it until Mom ground up that orange peel and Bob didn’t say a thing.  It’s not normal to yell at someone for washing dishes or cooking or cleaning up.  I knew this before.  For years I’d fought for that right to be able to make a meal without being yelled at, to clean the kitchen without being yelled at, to go to the bathroom without being yelled at.  At some point it got into me, you make noise and you deserve to be yelled at.

I was waiting for it today and it didn’t happen.  Here’s the thing, if it happened, I would have blamed myself even though I would have said something in my defense.  I’ve always spoken up for myself but internally is another matter.  As I was washing the pan I was thinking that it was his right to tell me to shut up and stop washing the dishes I dirtied.  I thought of just moving out quickly even if I haven’t found a job because I was invading his space and I was making too much noise.

While it is his house and his rules go, normal people don’t get all ticked off about someone cleaning up after themselves.  He bought the house with the open floor plan.  This was something he accepted.  There’s reasonable common courtesy where you’re quiet for someone who’s busy with something.  But what my husband did was expect beyond anything reasonable.  I’d been yelled at for so long that it’s become a part of me.

I can’t ever be with another man again.  I can’t because there is part of me that has adjusted to this unreasonable behavior.  I’m prime for getting into another abusive relationship because I’ve been so emotionally beaten down.  I blame myself for his irrationality.  I blame myself for being abused and yelled at.  Clearly, I’m not a good candidate for being in a relationship.

It will be a good thing for me to be on my own.  I’ll get a cat for the affection they give and something warm and cuddly to go to sleep with.  I’ll get good bug spray to take care of the spiders that normally freak me out.  Nope, I don’t need a man to break me down again.  I know there are very wonderful, good, and honorable men out there, but so many aren’t and they’re really good actors.  The cat and bug spray will work fine for me.  I’ve been opening my own pickle jars for a while now so I’m good there.

[consumatesurvivor]

Lessons Learned From My Abusive Ex: Lesson 3

The attention was all consuming.  He was there when I woke up and would be there until I went to sleep.  He talked to me all day long, every day.  I loved the attention.  I thought it was because I was special to him and he couldn't stay away.  That was intoxicating and I was addicted it.

Lesson Three: It doesn't matter how I feel, never jump with both feet without years of really knowing someone.  

My husband gave me attention because he was bored and lonely and needed attention himself.  Once he was tired of it he moved on and I was left wondering what happened.  I knew a few months in that he wasn't the Prince Charming he said he was.  We started talking in November and by late spring it was like he forgot about me completely.  He would show up when he needed something, was bored, needed to control me more, and then disappear again even if I needed him.  

I was smartening up and moving on without him.  I let him know I was and thought he'd wish me well.  That was a mistake because then he came after me full force.  I immediately caved to it.  It was the idea that what if this were perfect and meant to be.  How could I just walk away from it?

The answer to that was to run not walk.  I should have pushed those giddy feelings away and moved on without him.  I can't trust my own feelings because they were based off something that didn't exist.  

My husband didn't love me.  He never did and never would.  He doesn't know what love is.  I didn't love my husband.  I loved something that didn't exist.  As soon as I realized he wasn't what I thought I told myself I had to continue or else I would have turned my life inside out and it would have been a mistake.  I didn't want to face the mistake.  I had to make it work to be proven right.

I'll never trust the butterflies and euphoria from a new romance and attention again.  I bought into the love stories of grandeur that don't exist.  I thought I'd always feel loved and appreciated.  I didn't.  I even told him that things had changed with me and how I felt, but he didn't understand what I meant.  I didn't either.  I should have known and I should have been strong enough to face the mistake head on and leave him in the dust.

While getting involved with him was a huge mistake, each day I stayed with him was another one.  It all started off those butterflies.  Never again will I trust butterflies with my life.  They do not know what's good for me.  They do not know who that other person really is.  They are dangerous.

[consumatesurvivor]

Life’s Triumphs And Struggles: Blog

I arrived on the 28th with lost luggage, being overcharged for a seat I didn't even sit in, and money I couldn't exchange.  It's taken me two and a half weeks, but I finally have a phone.  I found simple things to be challenging and the phone was a big one.  But at least I have communication other than email now.

Today I finally secured a storage unit for my things when they arrive.  I've been trying to contact a place around the corner for a while but they refused to call me back.  I went with another that's more expensive but more secure and spoke with me immediately.  If I'm lucky my things won't be in storage for that long.  I get the second month free so I'm hoping that by the end of that I'll have my own place.

I also got word today that the airline is paying the expenses incurred for having me wait two days for my luggage.  I found out just the other day that they were refunding my money for the seat upgrade that I didn't get and it wasn't even a seat upgrade to begin with.  So that's now taken care of.

I made Christmas presents for relatives who'll be here for Christmas and got something for my mother and her husband so I won't feel like a bum on Christmas.  I said I wanted nothing, but then overheard my mother talking to someone about a gift for me.  So presents were created and I even have Christmas cards for them that were sent off today.

It appears as though things are falling into place.  I still have an insurance problem.  The stupid company won't change my address or acknowledge any of my attempts to contact them.  I'm so sick of them that I'm cancelling everything with them tomorrow and will never deal with them again.  

I still don't have health insurance, but I can't afford it. I need to talk to someone to explain the situation and see if there is something I can get.  If not, oh well.  I had health insurance in England and never once went to the doctor because it was too much of a pain in the butt.  

I do need new glasses.  Someone was kind enough to fix, or attempt to fix, my glasses at an eyeglass place the other day.  She did adjust them so they are no longer all slanted and loose, but the frame is so bent that my lens can fall out at any time.  So I'll be calling around trying to find the cheapest service and hope they don't screw me over.  My eyesight is valuable.

My parents are leaving for a week or so right after Christmas.  I'll be stuck here without a way of getting out and about.  I'm looking forward to it though because then I can take my laptop out to the living room and work on editing my writing.  It's hard to do right now.  I think I need some alone time too.  I'm tired of the TV being on all the time and running off their schedule.

I still feel numb.  Yesterday was so nice and I was on the back porch in the sun and warmth crocheting something for my mother and I knew that if I were in a better place I would have enjoyed it.  But I didn't.  I tried.  I tried to at least feel content.  What I found was if I just do things I think people would do then I look normal and no one questions me on how I'm feeling.  

Moving away didn't help my depression at all.  I go through the daily motions of brushing my teeth, showering, getting dressed, making my bed, doing the laundry, etc.  I feel nothing.  I push myself to do it, because I'm living in someone else's house.  I try to make dinner or clean up after every night and do other cleaning and projects so I won't be looked at as a burden.  I go for walks.  I try to act normal, but I don't feel normal.  

I feel disconnected and numb about everything.  I'm even eating foods I detest and I don't care.  I think I'm just biding my time until it blows up and I end it.  Sort of like what I did with my husband.  I just put up with it all until it blew up and then I went with plan b.    I just hope something changes before I get to plan b this time.  I hope I change.

[consumatesurvivor]

Lessons Learned From My Abusive Ex: Lesson 2

From the beginning I was sent poetry, song lyrics, and actual songs.  Sometimes I knew the poems other times I didn't and looked them up.  A few were his own.  The songs ranged from ones I knew to ones I didn't but I knew of the musician or liked the genre.  I enjoyed getting these and started to save them.

It felt a bit odd to me after a bit though.  He was far from the first to send stuff like that, but the other times it felt different.  I think what really stood out to me was the consistency of it.  Every day I'd get something new.  He would often say how I reminded him of this song lyric or that poem.  But he'd also say these were favorites of his.  I asked if others had received the same and he became funny about it.  

Lesson 2: I was a mark.  He was conning me.  Everything was scripted.

My husband had a file filled with poems, lyrics, songs, and other things that he would go through when "wooing" a new woman.  When he ran out then he stopped sending anything.  This was time tested material.  It worked or else it would be removed.  I was a sucker and bought into it in the beginning.  I let the feelings of being wanted and desired overtake my rational mind that was saying this was creepy.

My mistake was that I made excuses for him.  I said he wasn't socially gifted so he needed to have help otherwise he'd freeze up around women.  This was bogus.  He never had trouble talking to people online.  In person he might have trouble but a lot of that was also his own ego getting in the way.  He would openly show disgust at someone who spoke about the latest episode of the popular TV show.  To him TV was for the low IQ masses.  He'd watch TV, but he'd download shows from torrent sites.  I guess that made him feel he was above other people.  

To meet my husband in person was a different experience.  Our first in person date where we went out to dinner together was a disaster.  I told him that night that if it had really been a first that I would have not hung around for date 2.  I still shouldn't even after knowing him. It was a sign of things to come.

He was just so different online from real life.  His online presence was all just a con.  He was a master of the bait and switch.  He would show off one side knowing that wasn't really him.  He knew he couldn't attract anyone being controlling, manipulative, and abusive so he conjured up someone who could be nice, attentive, and caring.

I learned that when things are too good to be true, it isn't true.  There was a disparity between the two sides of him and if ever confronted with that again I will run in the other direction.  People typically put their best selves out there in the beginning of a relationship.  But if you're seeing two sides and one is undesirable, you need to run.  He was playing an act to get what he wanted and I meant nothing to him.  The signs were there and I ignored it.  I will not again.  Now I understand it better.  When you're a good person with good intentions you don't need to put on an act you can just be who you are.

[consumatesurvivor]

Lessons Learned From My Abusive Ex: Lesson 1

That day he started talking to me is burned into my mind.  I remember everything about that day right down to what I was wearing.  I remember it all because it was the worst day of my life, the day that changed everything and ruined all that was good about me and my life. 

He started talking to me and was insistent on the communication.  I didn’t really care about him, I was laughing and joking with someone else and he was a time killer before I had to leave.  I forgot about him by the time I logged off my computer.  I should never have logged back on that day, because he came back.  He was relentless with his pursuit.  I tried to distance myself but he wouldn’t have it. 

I asked questions about his significant other.  He said he was single, living the bachelor life all alone.  The rumors about him were not to be believed.  He said he was in network security and was home while he was having some remodeling done.  It was a fluke, he said.

Lesson 1:  He lies.  Never ever trust someone who lies.

He was about to marry someone else.  He was in a long term long distance relationship with someone else and he outright lied about it to me.  He still tries to deny being engaged even though she was planning a wedding and he never once said not to.  His plan was to marry her and move in with her after she got her degree.  She was just taking a long time to get the degree.

He was not employed.  Having a degree does not mean you have a job.  Having a job 7 years before does not mean you have a job now.  He was on benefits and shouldn’t have been.  He was taking meds that made him completely mobile, pain free, and perfectly normal.  He should have been working but why work when you can get paid for sitting around all day and playing games? 

He was not having remodeling done.  The council was painting the kitchen because they’re required to keep up with the maintenance of the apartments.  Once every 10 years or so they’ll paint and upgrade anything that’s too old.  You don’t even have to be there to have it done.  It was just a coincidence that it was being done in that time frame.

If he didn’t lie I never would have spoken with him for that long.  Not because I would have judged him as a benefits scammer or thought less of him because he lived in a council flat.  I would never have spoken to him because he was about to be married to someone.  He figured the truth of any of these would lead him to be lonely that day and he wanted company so he lied.  I know doubt everything he’s ever said to me. 

But that lesson learned came in handy on that day he was attacking me and preventing me from calling the police.  When he acted nice and promised that I could stay as long as I wanted to pack my things and leave when I found my own place I knew it was a lie.  He was just saying anything to get me to stop screaming for help and stop trying to get the police.  Took a while, but I learned and I fear what would have happened to me if I hadn’t learned that lesson.  He’d already said he was going to kill me.  If I trusted him, would he have killed me?

In the future when I catch someone lying to me I will back away from them and keep them far away from me.  I will learn from this and not repeat my mistakes.  I will not allow someone new to deceive me like he did.  

[consumatesurvivor]

He Always Claimed He’d Never Hit A Woman

I tried to get my glasses fixed today.  They were fixed in one aspect.  But the frame is so bent that they need to be replaced.  I can’t even imagine how much that will cost without insurance coverage.

I’m sure my husband is still claiming he didn’t lay a hand on me.  I’m so confident I’ll bet the rest of my savings on him making loud statements of never touching me.  But my glasses are an inconvenient truth he can’t lie about. 

A police officer found my glasses and put them back together for me.  That doesn’t happen if you’re just arguing.  Glasses don’t just randomly fly off your face and get mangled.  I wouldn’t have needed to have my glasses put back together by a police officer if I just took them off.

Since the officer arrived in the middle of the fight and I left the apartment immediately and didn’t return again for hours, there was no setting that up.  I can’t see without my glasses.  I wear them from the time I start to sit up in bed until I lay down at night.  My vision is horrible.  Without glasses I’m fumbling around.  It’s just one of the reasons why I couldn’t get his cell phone to work when I tried to call the police.  My glasses had come off and I couldn’t see the phone to figure out what to do with it. 

So, dear husband, are you going to ever admit what you did?  My glasses should be haunting you in your sleep.  If not, how about the chair that broke when you tackled me?  Oh the signs of what you did were everywhere.

Today what I want most, is for him to admit he is a spousal abuser and he attacks women.  I don’t want an apology or money to fix my glasses.  I want to hear him say he physically assaulted me.  I just need to know that he knows that he isn’t who he claimed he was.

[consumatesurvivor]

Red, Blue, or Purple

I’m thinking of dying my hair.  I was in a beauty supply shop today and I looked at the colors.  I couldn’t decide which.  I thought that I needed something shocking to help break me away from my abusive husband, suicide attempt, depression, and transatlantic flight for freedom.  I thought maybe it would signal a new stage in my life.  But what color represents that new stage?

I went with nothing because I couldn’t decide.  I wasn’t sad I couldn’t find a color.  In fact, I didn’t care at all.  I didn’t care if I dyed my hair or not.  I haven’t really cared about much lately.  If I’m not feeling anxious about my future or things going on, then I feel nothing. 

This numbness that settled in isn’t new to me.  This was how I got through so many years of abuse from my husband.  But now I’m noticing it more and more.  I’m completely numb emotionally.  I can’t feel anything at all other than anxiety.  I don’t even cry anymore.  It’s like the shock of everything has settled and now I’m back to my day to day numb existence of waiting until something major happens for me to get the courage to check out.

So what color represents that best?  If I figure it out then I’ll dye my hair that color and let the world know that’s the type of screwed up I am.

[consumatesurvivor]

So Mom... Does That Ring A Bell?

I listened to a news report about teenagers and mental health issues during dinner tonight.  I'm so far removed from that age group it's not even funny.  I could have children beyond that age group.  But I could relate.  Thinking back to those years, I needed help and never got it.  

My mother used to complain to me about me a lot when I was young.  She'd tell me about all the adults in my life who thought I was moody or just an unhappy person to be around.  For so long I thought my problems were that I was just an unlikable person with a bad personality.  I blamed myself for not being always happy like other kids.  This not only fed into the mental problems that I had but helped diminish my own self-esteem.

I was sitting at the dinner table with my parents while we all listened to this report about some girl who turned to her mother and her mother got her help.  I thought about me way back then.  I didn't have a parent who felt I needed help.  I had a parent who felt I was the problem.  I wanted to say something, anything, to find out what my mother was thinking, but I don't think it would have done any good for me.  I wanted to say the problem isn't the mental health issues it's the parents who fail the child in getting them help, but I said nothing.

I don't blame my mother for having no clue that 9 year old me needed help.  Although there were times when she threatened therapy as a punishment, so on some level she knew something was wrong.  I knew I needed help as a teenager but had no idea how to get it.  I never trusted anyone.  I'd already learned that my family was not to be trusted with my inner thoughts.  Because my mother liked to tell me about the adults in my life that complained about me, I didn't trust them either.  I had no one who was trusted in my life.  I was just alone to figure it out and that meant I went down a lot of really bad paths.

I was such a screwed up kid from the sexual molestation, my parents' divorce, my mother's remarriage to someone who wrote me off quickly, having a mother who felt punishments for me were best served with wooden spoons across the legs, and the self-loathing.  By age 10 you could probably guess how I'd turn out.  

I'm sure there were reports about kids screwed up back then too.  I wasn't an anomaly.  I do wonder what would have happened if I had gotten help.  Would I have even given my husband the time of day?  If I had I'm pretty sure I would have told him where to go when he started to lie and play games with me.  I feel confident that I wouldn't have allowed that into my life if I had been in a healthier emotional place in life.

But maybe I would have still been sucked in.  Maybe I would have still made all the same mistakes.  I still would have been with a man who was abusive.  I still would have dreamed about killing myself to end the pain.  I still would have grabbed the knife when I just couldn't take it anymore.  

I hope the children of today have parents who will get them help.  Then maybe they'll have a chance at not having the scars on their arms like I do.  Maybe they won't enter into abusive relationships and then stay in them because they feel they don't deserve better.  Maybe they'll have a chance at a life that isn't filled with anxiety, dread, darkness, and pain.  Dealing with all these issues and mental health problems isn't easy, but the sooner you tackle them the better.  At least you have a better chance at turning your life around earlier.  I never got that chance.  Now I feel like I have nothing left of my life even if I can come out on the other side.  

[consumatesurvivor]

Lacking Confidence Everywhere

I've had a number of people tell me about a place nearby that's hiring.  Everyone wants to point me there to get a job.  I was grateful the first time and I did look into them immediately.  There were two jobs posted, one I wasn't qualified for as it required a few years of specific on the job training I don't have and the other required continuous work that I don't have.  They didn't post for a job that allowed for someone to be closed into a bedroom for three years by an abusive husband.

My quandary is, do I still try for jobs like that or am I right to just shake my head at keep looking?  Am I being lazy by not submitting a resume to a place that feels that if you're down on your luck you're not good enough to work for them?  Or am I being prudent in not wasting my time and theirs?  

I would like to start working immediately.  I would work all day every day and that would be fine with me.  I'm not afraid to work.  I am a bit scared about a resume and having people ask why I haven't worked for so long though.  

I have a lot of self doubt about myself at this point in my life.  When you have someone screaming about how worthless you are almost daily and they are the only person you see for years, it does something to you.  Clearly I already had self-esteem issues to get into a relationship with him in the first place.  I was ripe for the tearing down and trampling on my soul.  I'm sure he sensed that in me.

I know that in every job I worked I was praised for how quickly I trained, how well I did the job, my common sense on the job, and how I improved things where I could.  But it seemed like I traveled backwards in my jobs.  I started off as a manager of two different departments and in my last job I was just doing database entry as an independent consultant.  When I think about getting a job now I think Wal-Mart and McD's.  I do have fast food experience from college.  

I don't know if I should be looking at entry level and working my way up again or going for things that I am qualified for.  What part of me is being realistic and which is the person who was told repeatedly they were stupid by an abusive husband?  Does my depression play into me not sending off my resume or is it the person who used to actually go through resumes and toss those who didn't have the posted requirements?

My insecurities touch every aspect of my life.  Will I be able to overcome them or will they end up being my downfall again?

[consumatesurvivor]

He Can't Save Me

Someone was telling me about their bad marriage and how it ended so I didn't feel so alone.  She finished her story with talking about finding her current husband and how happy they are.  There was an insinuation that I, too, would find that good husband.  At the time I was repulsed by the thought.  The last thing I wanted was someone else in my life to make it worse.

My parents have been watching the Hallmark channel all month long.  It's one far-fetched romance at Christmas time after another.  There was a time I might have watched them.  Now I just think it's sick. But having them on all day each day is doing something to me I think.

We went to the store today and I found myself thinking about meeting someone and what they would be like.  My mind kept wandering to that place and I realized, I might be looking for someone to save me.  I know though, that would be a mistake.

I need to save me from myself.  If I just turn to someone else then I'm just going further down the rabbit hole.  I got married to my husband because of repeated mistakes and hoping that he'd somehow make them all better.  He made everything worse.  Now I need to reject all men and stand on my own.  I know this.  So why does my mind go there?

[consumatesurvivor]

I Don’t Want You, I Want It.

I don't miss my husband.  I don't miss the apartment.  I don't miss anything I didn't take with me.  In fact I could have brought a lot less and still wouldn't have missed it.  I don't miss the town or the country.  I miss nothing about my time with my husband.  Well, no.  I miss one thing.  I miss the stuffed animal he took.

After a year of marriage I bought him a stuffed animal.  I gave it a personality and voice and when I presented it to my husband he seemed to love it.  He would have long conversations with the stuffed animal.  In fact he had more conversations with it than me.  I didn't care because I was the stuffed animal.  

We added to them over the years and each had their own personality and voice which I would do.  His first stuffed animal and mine fell in love.  I did this as modeling for my husband with proper behavior and respect in a relationship, but it didn't work.  

My husband would sleep with the stuffed animal each night and it was a big part of his life until one huge fight that happened about 2 years ago, maybe 3.  My husband made a big point of never being nice to me and declaring it would never happen.  From then on I knew I was going to leave my husband eventually.  If you can't even try to be nice what else is left.  The stuffed animal stopped talking nice to my husband and stayed with his "girlfriend" (and me) full time.  It was my way of telling my husband this isn't working.

Over the last few years he'd try to get the stuffed animal to be nice to him but it wouldn't work.  It helped that he was openly cruel and that was just used over and over again as the reason.  I bought yet another stuffed animal and gave it to my husband as a replacement.  The idea behind it was I thought my husband needed the comfort and yet he wouldn't get it from the original unless he made huge changes in his life.

On the day of the fight he took both his two stuffed animals with him when he moved out.  He had a right to, they were both his.  But I'm annoyed he took the first.  After five years of marriage the only thing I miss is an $8 stuffed animal.  I thought about leaving mine behind so that the two mated stuffed animals could be together.  But I didn't.  I didn't because I felt sure my husband would ruin it like he does everything else.

What does it say to me that I was more attached to a stuffed animal than to my husband?  He was certainly more enamored with it than me.  Am I still too much of a child to be able to have an adult relationship?  If I could get it back I'd probably sign off on the divorce with whatever lies he has told about me.  How pathetic is that?  I'm will to compromise my own sense of right and wrong for an old stuffed animal.

[consumatesurvivor]

Uncomfortable Changes

For the last three and a half years I wrote creatively every single day in my bedroom.  I started writing long before that though.  It started with a dream I had to write then another and another.  Long before I met my husband I'd been writing creatively.  But for the last three and a half years I hadn't written because I had stories I needed to get out, I wrote to escape my surroundings.

My freedom was lived in the characters I wrote about.  One in particular was a favorite way of coping.  I wrote so much that Word would take forever to process anything and I would have to save and start a new document.  This happened every 1,000 pages or so.  I have about 7 of these full documents about this one character's life.  That's how much I wrote.  I have another 6 stories fully done about other characters and their situations or lives as well as this one huge piece.  

From the time I woke until the time I went to sleep I wrote.  There was nothing else.  I might have taken a break here and there for a game or a youtube video, but it didn't stop the writing only paused it for 30 minutes here or there.  So for the majority of it, I was just writing.  I didn't even take a break to eat.  I just kept going.  Sometimes I'd edit something previously done, other times it was creating anew.  

The idea behind writing was so we could support ourselves from that.  Well, the use of we is liberal.  I've always said I'm not good enough and I doubted I could let anyone read anything I wrote.  My husband wanted to sell his stories.  He wrote as a child and felt with his superior IQ that he could pursue this as a career.  He had an idea for something he wanted to write though.  So through my help, he started writing.

In the beginning it wasn't high pressure, it was enjoyable and something we did while in the same room.  He wrote his passion project and I wrote one of mine.  He had no problems working around me and I didn't mind him interrupting me.  Once he got to a point where he didn't know where the plot was going he couldn't have me around.  So we traded back and forth going into the bedroom for just a few hours in the day.  He'd work on his laptop in the bedroom or I would.  It was never just one person and only for a few hours at a time, however there was tension about it from time to time.

The pressure on me would fluctuate from being forced to write to sell to being allowed to write for enjoyment.  The trouble for me was that even if I was allowed to write for enjoyment it was also for the purpose of selling.  My husband would scream at me periodically about how I was worthless because I wasn't going to sell like he was going to.  I didn't like that pressure.  It's not that I can't handle pressure, it's because I didn't want my husband standing over me and telling me to work better, faster, edit, submit, and sell on his schedule.  

Also, please, how many people would love to be a writer as a career path?  This was not a viable model for earning money.  It's like saying I wanted to become a pro baseball player.  Yes, there are people who make millions and have wonderful careers, but for ever Jeter there are thousands who can't cut it.  In the beginning my husband seemed to understand this was a long shot.  He'd make fun of people who claimed they were writer's when all they'd sold was a few copies of a PDF on Amazon to their friends.  By last year, maybe the year before, my husband was calling himself a writer and his work was all important and any interruption was taking money off the table.  No, he still has not had a single thing accepted for publication anywhere.

My husband wanted a job where he could stay at home and not really work.  That was his goal.  He didn't like being told what to do and if a manager tried to give him direction there was conflict.  He'd been fired from all the jobs he'd ever held in his youth.  His own brother almost got fired after punching someone at work.  That physical violence propensity ran in the family I guess.  With the threat looming of his disability being cut off, my husband needed to make the writing work more and more.  That stress then was heaped on me.  Sometimes he'd scream at me about not writing enough and other times it was just about stupid crap like how I didn't pay enough attention to him when he came in to check his seedlings.  

I fantasized about getting an agent and being able to have something of mine sold.  Back then when I thought about it I'd always think it was my way to leave my husband.  Take the money and run far far away.  I even started writing a story about it, but in the end I was going to have the main character fail and kill herself.  I felt she deserved it.

Now that I'm away from my husband, I don't write.  I do this as a way of helping me understand what happened and why.  I get thoughts in my head and I have to get them out.  So I write them and post them here.  No one reads it so I feel safe.  But my fictional writing has completely stopped.  I can't even read and edit which is what I was doing in the end while I was waiting for the movers and then my flight when I had nothing else to do.

I wonder if now that I'm away from him that part of me is gone because I no longer need that outlet.  Or am I just in survival mode and unable to concentrate?  Maybe it's because I can't get comfortable enough to be able to tap into that creativity.  Or maybe I'm just too stressed right now to deal with it all.  I don't know.  I just feel different.  Unfortunately, not a different good either.  It's more like I've lost more of myself because of him.  I was writing before I knew him.  It was not because of him that I started to write.  But now I feel like he's taken that bit away from me too.  How much more will he take before he's done?  

[consumatesurvivor]

Please Don’t Pass The Ketchup

I'm a child when I'm home, maybe that's just one reason I hate being home.  This house doesn't even feel like home.  It's new.  None of the furniture is anything I grew up with.  The souvenirs are all new.  The paintings are mostly from yard sales and not meaningful.  There are none of the photos that were always hanging up while I grew up.  In fact, if I entered the house I'd be hard pressed to know it was my mother's if she wasn't here to show me around.

So why does it feel like home and bring back that child in me?  I believe that would be the family dynamic.  The family dynamic moves around wherever you are and doesn't need the same background for me to feel like home.  I'm feeling petty and childish right now because I'm a few hours or days removed from some of it.  But I knew it would happen and it will continue to happen.  I want to have a temper tantrum during it too.  No matter how old I am, I will revert back to childhood when I'm home.

I'm stuck in this house without keys, transportation, or a phone.  Okay I have the darned phone.  It just won't activate because the people at Wal-Mart didn't scan it correctly to register that it was bought.  So I have to either go back or email my receipt to the phone company and let them do their thing.  I opted for the email because no matter what it would be waiting and a pain, but the email could be done from home.  Someday I'll have a crappy phone that some foreign country will be listening in on thinking I'm the most pathetic excuse for a human being ever.

We went out today for the phone and some clothes.  Mom wanted to buy me clothes for Christmas well I beat her and got what I needed at Wal-Mart. While Mom was mentioning all the places we could go for clothes, I knew only one would have my size.  Wal-Mart, just narrowly, helped me out.  Things will be tight and I'll be unhappy, but when was the last time I was happy?

The trip out was good for me.  I spent hours thinking we were going out and waiting for my mother to get ready only to figure out she wasn't going out.  I was crying and having another panic attack while waiting for her when it hit me.  It doesn't take hours to get dressed.  Mom wasn't getting ready to go. Mom was doing some project in her room.  I was better once I realized I couldn't go out.  But later when I had the chance I asked about going out and we left.

It's hard to ask to go out because when I do ask about her plans I get iffy statements about how she might be going out for the day or not for some reason.  Even when I think nothing is happening someone will pop in and plans change in a heartbeat.  This afternoon when she was teetering on going out or not with her husband and other friends I mentioned the phone again and she picked me as a way to get out of watching people golf.  

Being out is good because it's different.  Sitting around at home with nothing to do leaves me pulling out my hair and screaming to myself inside my head.  My cold is subsiding and I can't use watery cold eyes as an excuse anymore.  Now they'll know just how much I cry.  But being out, I can hold it together and have some possibilities of something different.

When we came home I even continued to leave by going to the neighbors to visit.  I'm trying to make positive changes, but it's hard because the child rears up too.  The child in me screams over things like why does my mother keep trying to pass me the ketchup, spaghetti sauce, or hand me cookies with nuts?  These are things I detest and have detested all my life.  

I'm not asking my mother to do anything special for me.  If she's making stuffed shells keep at it.  I'd suffer through and eat them even though tomato puree in anything is disgusting to me.  But trying to pour more sauce on them is like torture.  What gets to me is not the meatloaf that I've always hate being made instead of the hamburgers that I was hoping for because I haven't had a good real hamburger in 5 years.  It's that she doesn't remember me and my quirks.  I've never been able to have tomato sauce, ketchup, you name it with tomatoes that have been cooked, pureed, or made into paste.  I'm pretty good with cold and sliced tomatoes though.  So many times I've had different meals from the rest of the family because of this or something like my shells put aside so no sauce gets on them.  

I didn't expect anyone to go that far with me and my food quirks this time.  I also didn't realize that my mother couldn't remember what I liked and didn't like.  She's fixated on me not liking mustard.  But I actually cook with mustard a lot.  It's her other daughter who doesn't like mustard.  

I remember this time about 10 years ago give or take when my mother was at my house.  Her other daughter called her (a recent college graduate) to ask what she liked chunky or light tuna.  To clarify, my half sister was asking about her own preferences.  She couldn't remember what she liked and called her mother to ask her which to buy for herself.  I've never had that happen to me in life.  I've known what I liked and didn't and when unsure I just bought and tried and figured it out for myself.  Not the other daughter though.  My mother quickly passed along the information.

I ate meatloaf for dinner.  Yep, ate it and didn't even make gagging noises at it.  I'm proud of myself.  Mom passed me the ketchup.  This is now the third meal where I've had to remind her that she's just committed a mortal sin in my estimation.  While I was joking with her about her inability to remember, I was thinking what the crap?  I remember the other day her telling me her husband didn't like pesto.  Didn't forget that and we didn't even have pesto for a meal.  It was just a passing comment in the grocery store.  

I feel so foolish getting frustrated over things like that.  I want to ask why it bothers me so much that she has forgotten so much about me, but I know why.  I feel like I don't matter as much to her so she's forgotten so much of me.  I know she remembers these things with not just her other daughter but neighbors and friends and her grandchildren and yet I'm completely forgotten.  So while I know getting miffed that she put nuts in the cookies is petty and childish, there's a part of me that says, "You're not worth remembering.  You're not worth allowing for 6 cookies to be made without nuts.  You're just not worth the effort to have hamburgers instead of meatloaf.  You're not worth the mental effort to remember how you'd have your pasta with butter and not sauce." I say these things to myself and it feeds into what my husband said to me over and over again about how I didn't deserve the effort for him to be nice to me.  It plays into so many things in my life where I just didn't measure up and was told I wasn't good enough.  With no way to flee, these stupid, pathetic, minor, trivial things have become dangerous to my psyche.  

So now my real question, do all these things feed into the depression or does the depression play with everything around me making things seem worse than they are?  I have had a lifetime of emotional punches that end up leaving me with zero self-esteem.  Does it all lead to depression setting in or was the depression always there clouding everything so all I could see were these injustices?  I don't know the answer to that.    

[consumatesurvivor]

To The Musicals Go My Sanity

It's official.  I made another mistake.  I should never have returned home.  I'm hearing my mother speaking and I just want to scream.  It's not because she's bothering me, it's because I've had my limit for being at home and just hearing her voice is a reminder of where I am.  I've done nothing for days because there is nothing for me to do and it's getting to me.

I have no phone.  This is a problem.  They have a house phone number and active line but no phone.  They won't get one either.  They talked about maybe having one or getting one or borrowing one but so far nothing.  This means I can't do anything about calling around for jobs or apartments or well, anything.

I have no transportation and there's no public transportation here.  There's uber but I don't have a cell phone so that doesn't help.  Not that I could afford it.  Nothing is close by.  I need to go to places like stores and check out apartments and get things done and it's not happening.  I'm just stuck here until someone offers to bring me somewhere to accomplish something on my list.

My money situation is dire.  The bank gave me a much worse exchange rate than they should have.  Thank you, bank, for gouging me and screwing me over.  It pleases me knowing you're always in trouble for screwing over your customers and trying to profit off terrorism, corruption, and insider trading.  

I shouldn't have moved here.  I should have stayed in the UK and I would have been okay for a lot longer.  I would have had a phone, transportation, been on my own, and not been dependent on anyone.  I'm as dependent as before with my husband's controlling ways.  I leave the house and try walking away and I get nowhere because they live too far away from anywhere.

My Mom thinks I should just relax until after the holidays.  I want to be gone yesterday.  I'm starting to feel anxious about being here and it's making me more depressed.  This morning my mother asked me if I wanted to go to a Christmas show with them.  I said, "No, thanks."  Put aside my depression and need to ignore the holiday season, I don't want to impose myself on them every minute of the day.  They should be able to keep doing these things without me so I don't crowd them.  They should have date nights.  I'm a firm believer in them having their alone time.  

Mom offered to buy the ticket for me.  That's how far away we are on being on the same page.  I'm constantly wondering just how far away that gun store is, how long it would take me to walk there, how long it would take for me to get a gun to end my misery, and where I would do it so no one else is harmed, and she thinks I'm worried about paying for a ticket to a local Christmas musical.  

A bit later she asked me to pick out clothes from her favorite department store.  I again said, "No, thanks." This time I followed it up with how I need to be there to try on clothes to figure out my size.  While this is true, it's also because I know this store and there is NO WAY they have sizes that fit me.  She insisted and said she could send it right back for free and she could buy me clothes for Christmas.  She kept talking over my protests and I just walked away hacking and coughing and entered the bathroom for another round of blowing my nose.  It was a well timed escape.

I would have loved to sit down with her and explain why I didn't want anything for Christmas, but I have laryngitis.  My cold's caused me to lose my voice because of all the coughing up of post nasal drip.  Yea!.  So now I either write her a note explaining it or wait until I can speak again.  I'll wait because I don't think she gets it and we need the conversation so I can hear her response.  I don't think she realizes just how far gone I am.

There are aspects of my situation that I want to hide.  In some ways I really don't want my mother knowing just how bad it is because she could possibly do something that would stop me from plan b and I can't have that happen.  If I go there then I do not want to be stopped.  But she needs to stop thinking of inviting me to Christmas events thinking that it will be good for me.  It won't be.  If forced then I'll just hide further and pretend more and then she'll just be more surprised when it all comes falling apart because I can only hide for so long.  At some point I crack and can't keep it up and just don't care anymore who knows.  I know this from experience.

[consumatesurvivor]

Tis The Season

My sweatshirt has wet drips all over the front.  Some might say the cold I have forcing my eyes to continuously water is wrecking havoc with me.  I know the truth.  Only a few of those tears are involuntary.  I'm openly weeping over my life and I can't stop it.

The house should be mostly empty today so I'll feel better not having to pretend I'm okay.  No one asks me what happened.  If someone does ask why I've moved back my mother quickly tells them it's a sad story so they move on.  I don't mind telling people what happened.  I'm not sure if my mother is embarrassed by it or trying to save me from it.  Retelling is nothing compared to living it, you can't save me from the past.  Some strangers have given me hugs upon meeting me so I know Mom told a few.  

Family members have been calling the house.  No one asks to speak to me.  In fact I heard a long conversation with my grandmother and the only mention of me was that I had a cold and the topic was quickly changed.  I guess that's going to be an awkward Christmas when she comes in a few weeks.  Maybe I'll get a motel room and bug out for the duration.

My mother went to a Christmas crafting fair yesterday.  She came home with things and talked about giving people gifts.  It just seemed so foreign to me.  I don't know how I'd take getting spices and a wooden bowl for gifts this year.  In fact, I don't want to celebrate Christmas at all.

Christmas and Birthdays were minimal with my husband.  They weren't at the start.  I'd do my best to make the big meals, decorate the tree, have traditions, but his computer gaming got in the way.  Then his writing and controlling the kitchen prevented it.  This year I asked for no celebration.  He'd never really had any celebration before.  It was all me.  I had wanted to introduce him to something new and have fun with it.  Then I wanted to just escape it because I didn't want to put in the effort just to be yelled at.

How can I tell my mother, "Please do not buy me a single solitary thing?"  Will she know that opening gifts will just about take all the strength that I have left?  Will she know that I might just run from the house and not return for days under the pressure of all Christmas entails?  Can't she see that the normal day to day is just too much on me as it is?

I don't want to pretend that nothing happened.  Something did that changed me.  I'm not the same person anymore.  Gifts won't change me back.  I smiled at your palm frond twisted rose, Mom, but I don't want anything like that.  I just want a job, a home of my own, and solitude.  I've been alone far too long to be able to mix well with others and be sociable again.  Christmas is for those with hope and love and families.  I have nothing like that.  I have despair, sadness, and shame.

[consumatesurvivor]

My Latest Excuse

I have a cold.  I feel like crap.  I'm grateful for it because it means I can slow down.  My body couldn't handle all the movement I've been doing recently.  When you're sedentary for so long just walking down the street will cause your shoulders, legs, back, and feet to scream at you for days.  I went to the beach and walked around.  The next day my feet hurt so bad since they aren't use to that much work on the soft sinking sand.

Being fat isn't easy.  It's painful and difficult and it makes trying to lose the weight so much harder.  Add that to my depression and it seems like a hill I simply cannot climb.  I'm glad for the break so I can lie down and rest my back, neck, shoulders, and feet.  I'm not thrilled with the stuffed nose that is killing my throat and filling up my lungs making me cough until I gag.  I don't like the chills rotating with being sweaty hot, the watery eyes, and achiness everywhere.  But I can rest.

I did get my banking situated.  I've reserved my storage facility here.  I had a line on a job until I read the requirement that you had to have continuous work until this point.  Gee thanks for that.  I guess that little line means that no one is allowed to go back to work after being abused by their spouse for years or maybe even injured for a long period of time.  Can you get anymore elitist?  

My mom has a lot of plans for the weekend and while I was invited, I'm not going.  It's rude to go over to people's homes while you're sick.  That's my excuse.  It means I can lay down on the couch with my laptop and do what I want.  I really want a nap, but I'm trying to keep my sleep schedule to the nights.  I go to sleep at 8, wake up at midnight and am awake from 2 to 3 hours, go back to sleep, and get up at 6 on the nose.

There's no good place for me to get comfortable here.  I need a nice office chair that will support my head when I lean back and the ability to put up my feet and work on my computer.  Those things don't exist here.  It's one of the reasons my back is always hurting me.  I'm always supporting myself while sitting up.

I've been eating right since I've been here, three basic meals a day and maybe a snack at midmorning of fruit or yogurt.  Today I'll walk to keep it going.  I'm trying.  I really am.  I just still think I'll fail.  I won't find a job and I'll spend the rest of my money and never be able to move out.  If I'm still here in 6 months I'll reconsider plan b.  His voice is still in my head screaming at me about how I don't deserve having someone be nice to me.  I still hear him screaming at me to kill myself.  I still hear him bellowing about how he'll kill me now.  I still feel his arm around my neck.  These things are not easy things to shake.  The damage from the past 3 years or more if you could the entire relationship, it very hard to overcome.    

[consumatesurvivor]

As Some Things Change Others Don’t

The darkness is swirling around me.  I'm sitting in my mother's new house, safe, away from my husband, unable to be harmed by him again, and still the bad thoughts are there.  I haven't left the house since I arrived.  

Part of the reason I haven't left is because I don't want to hang on my mother and her husband and be constantly under foot.  I know what a huge imposition this is.  I've tried helping with meals or making them for them, cleaning up, doing laundry, and being helpful.  I don't like what they like though.  Last night they watched TV.  I haven't watched TV in 10 years maybe more.  I liked it as a distraction when I'm doing something else, but I can't just sit there and watch it.  I tried last night and all I did was think about my mess of a life.

I'm worried I'll not be able to find a job or a place for me to live.  I'm worried about starting over and having the money to be able to support myself.  I'm worried about the divorce.  I don't want him to find out where I am.  He's trying to locate me.  I know he's claiming he needs a divorce from MY unreasonable behavior.  I can only imagine what he said about it.  

Thoughts of what he is saying about me consume my thoughts.  It's not fair.  He'll get a divorce based on ME being the problem.  The police still have not told me what is going to happen with my domestic abuse case which probably means nothing will happen.  He'll continue life like I was the biggest problem and he was the victim.  

I realized today as I sat waiting for the apple pie I just made to finish cooking that suicide is still an option.  Ideas for how I'd do it were floating around while looking at the clean neat house and seeing the disparity in how I've lived for the last 5 years with that man.

I just don't think I'm capable of living the life that I want.  I don't think I have it in me.  It's been so mentally hard just trying to keep up a normal appearance.  I may have moved, but I still feel worthless.  I need to do something different or else I'll end up repeating exactly what I did before.  So I'll take a walk and leave the house and try to let the change in location change my psyche.