divorce, family, flashback, health, relationship, sex, stress, survivor

Time May Heal All Wounds, but it Won’t Erase the Scars


The last few days I’ve had an unusually high frequency of flashbacks.  I can’t seem to put my finger on what’s triggering this but I’ve got a few hunches.

I’ll be going about my regular business and suddenly, BAM!, I’m cowering against the counter, Man-baby looming over me.  Spittle spews in my face as he screams at and berates me.  My Little Girl is watching.  He is swinging his lunch box by the handle.  It crashes into the counter, leaving the top with an ever-present wiggle.

There are endless memories like this.  Once I ordered him to leave and not to come back before he could behave.  He punished me for the duration of our “marriage” after my feeble attempt to stand up for myself and protect my children.   He loved to pick fights by waking me up as soon as I fell asleep and ambushing me with my faults and failings.  I don’t know how many times I walked away only to have him storm after me, blocking the exit.

The wounds are nearly closed but the scar tissue is ugly and red.  These aren’t memories I can just forget, they will remain with me for life.  But given time and lots of TLC I know that even the most horrendous scars can fade, that by taking care of myself someday the healing will overcome the torture.  So I keep going, one step, one day, one memory.

I try to catch myself when the memories take over or when I become so embroiled in a revenge plot that I loose touch with the here and now.  But sometimes I am gone for a while before I become aware of it.  I’ll be standing at the sink, the water running and running, but in my head I am reliving the dreadful night Little Boy told me about Man-baby’s son, Child Rapist sodomizing him.  The water runs over and soaks my socks, bringing me slipping back into today.  But I never come back quite the same, always I feel disconnected distracted, sometimes for days, after.

DD and the Kiddos and my Kitties are good at bringing me back, often they don’t even know they’re doing it.  The sound of Little Girl calling me, the feel of fur winding around my feet, they are the anchors that keep me from sailing over the edge of my mind.

I practice re-directing my thoughts as much as I can, I’m getting better.  Last night DD and I made love, and I lay in his arms drifting to sleep and realized I had slipped away from the beauty of the moment and off into a convoluted thought that I could torture Man-baby by sending him discretely mailed chain letters carefully worded to tap into his paranoia.  It was a struggle but I brought myself back to reality, made myself remember that I was in the arms of a man who is good to me and loves me.  I remembered that spending any energy on such plots was falling right into Man-baby’s trap, that THE BEST REVENGE IS TO LIVE WELL.  And so I counted my blessings and had sweet dreams.

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