It appears my “writers block” is over, I’ve written a lot in my journal today and two entries here (three now!). It’s a need rather than a want. I need to write. It is the best way to express my thoughts and feelings.
I find myself with a familiar rage that hits very suddenly, and then my thoughts begin to race. It’s incredibly intense as it grows inside me and the need to write becomes quite desperate. It pours out onto paper or here and after I sort of slump with exhaustion and relief. Perhaps dramatic, but I think writing has saved my life.
I’m feeling a lot of anger right now, I’ve been quite angry all day. I suppose I have a lot to be angry about, yes? And though it doesn’t feel like it, I am sure it’s OK to be angry.. right?
I am angry that I am going through this pain and suffering right now and I am angry that I ever had to go through such trauma. I am so incredibly angry that my beautiful soul friend was dragged into all this. Angry at me but mostly angry at “them”.
Sometimes I can barely believe that this was and is my life. He changed me forever, because there’s no denial, I am changed and I hate him for it. I hate him.
I hate him for grooming me and oh how I hate him for raping me and for subjecting me to torturous abuse. But I hate him most for making me fall for him.
I hate that he made me afraid of everything, I hate that even with my children, I struggle with their touch and that I have to remind myself to hug them. I hate that I flinch from my husbands embrace because of what “he” did to me. I hate that I am scared of the dark and of going out alone. I hate that I think of what he did all the time, I hate that I feel him with me, I hate that I see him everywhere. I hate that the horror intrudes on my day and that I always have to fight so hard.
Because that is what it is, a fight. Every day, every damn day. It feels as if I am constantly in a duel with him. I struggle with him as I bathe my children and as I make their breakfast. I am pushing him away as I walk to the school and kiss my child goodbye. I am fighting as I work at my desk and banter with my colleagues. I am battling with him as I pick up my children. The conflict goes on, as I help with homework and make the dinner. I go to bed exhausted and as I make love to my husband, the tussle continues. And while sleeping, I am battling in my dreams, because the fight is never ending it just goes on and on.
And I am angry, so very very angry.