None of this is going to make sense to you if you don’t read these first:
I have a hard time reading these posts without recalling the absolute anguish I felt while writing them. And, I can’t help dying a little everytime I think about that part of my life. It seems like I am a million miles away from that point of my life. I am so happy with my husband, my family and my life in general. Sure, it has it’s ups and downs. A lot of hard times. But, that’s part of living.
This portion of my life reflects a time when I was dying. Not just physically, but emotionally. I lost a huge part of me during this time. It’s time I can never recapture. I feel a great deal of loss when I read these posts…like a part of me was stolen. And tomorrow, I get to pick that scab back open.
My therapist wants us to “explore” this part of my life. I am not sure how open I am to this exploration. The way I have coped with all the physical and mental abuse inflicted upon me during that time was to vomit it all up on my blog. To have the words there, in black and white, forevermore. If I want to revisit it, I know where to find it. I literally bled on the pages of my blog. I revealed the worst part of my life to people. Basically, I handled it the best way I could…the only way I could see to cope. I supressed a lot of emotion for a long time, let it fester under the surface of my skin.
I feel I have done a lot of suffering at the hands of this man. I don’t want it to continue by revisiting it every so often. However, I know if I don’t deal with it in a more constructive manner, it will continue to own me…to define me.
I can’t have that.
So, tomorrow, in therapy, we are going to start peeling back the layers. I am dreading this session. Literally squirming at the thought of having to tell this story yet again. But, he seems convinced that a lot of the self-destruction I have caused myself as of late is in direct correlation with the abuse I suffered at the hands of this man. His theory is that I became addicted to the pain and the drama, ergo, I am always seeking to replace it in my life.
I disagree…but, on some levels, he may have a valid point.
I never really handled what happened between Tony and myself. Never really dealt with it. I packed it neatly away as just another chapter in my life. I take it out when I feel the need to examine it, but that doesn’t happen often. And, as of late, it hasn’t happened at all.
But it’s always there, just below the surface. And, I do get in touch with it in different ways. Sometimes, a voice, a certain place, a scent…it will transport me back to that time. There is music I can’t listen to because it reminds me of Tony and those years of abuse. There is a certain actor who I can’t bear to look at because he looks so much like Tony. I am very quick tempered when I see a man even get remotely angry with a woman. It makes me insane, fires me up like a rocket. I have no control over it. I have no tolerance for it.
I understand that I was left damaged. The strong woman in me doesn’t care to admit that…but the frail and frightened girl in me knows that I need help in dealing with the monster in my head.
Tomorrow will open up the wound all over again. More than likely, I will cry, which will infuriate me. I will become angry. I know I will become defensive and will probably argue with my therapist at some point. He will try to keep me calm and in my mind, I will feel like I am being manipulated by yet another man. I don’t do very well with men because I always feel they have ulterior motives in everything they say and do. Tony did that to me.
And I hate that after all these years, he still has the power to make me cry.