There's pressure in my head again. I wonder if it's the hangover or if it's being caused by the pure, unfiltered stress I feel when I enter this house. I can't seem to control it. I've tried stretching, medication, extremely hot showers, exercise. The only things that help are leaving the house, copious amounts of wine and him... I can feel my muscles tightening as I think about it.
I can't function here. This place is like a neurotoxin slowly shutting me down. I see chores that need to be done and I can't will myself to do any of it.. but in my head I'm somewhere else doing those things and feeling like a normal person. How fucked is that? That's my fantasy... Folding my clothes in a home where I'm not dying inside.
My therapist says I'm "living your PTSD as it's happening."
PTSD from a fucked up childhood, PTSD from a nightmare job, PTSD from a mentally destructive marriage. It's never "post" is it? It's current it just shifts forms. I seek it out like a self-fulfilling prophet.
Sometime shortly after I "ran away from home" a few days before high school graduation and moved in with my friend's parents in Michigan I completely fell apart. I had a perfectly good start to a new life, and I didn't know how to live with that. I began self-harming, drinking excessively, always partying, with no ambitions or goals in sight.
Over a year later I moved back to Iowa and sort of got my shit together. I worked two jobs until I joined the Marine Corps.
When James and I split for the last time I had also happened to be processing out of the Marine Corps at exactly the same time. The stress of the nightmare job that had once consumed me was now over. Once again I had freedom and a fresh start and didn't know how to deal with it. I imploded. I can't even bring myself to type about it.. 2011-2019 was a complicated and dark chapter of my life.
So what am I going to do this time? How am I going to handle being released from this toxic marriage?
1. lots of therapy, 2. lots of medication, 3. lots of crying, 4. lots of wine, 5. lots of exercise, 6. lots of keeping my fucking shit together because I don't know how much longer I have left and my kid needs me.
That's the plan.. but I feel so much dread. It's so fucked. So fucked. I should feel elated, but he's fucked with my head so much... I can't find joy in almost anything.
As I finish typing this I can hear him in the other room.. his CONSTANT nasally deep annoyed fucking tone, bitching, growling, and incessantly nagging at my daughter.. increasing the toxicity in the air until there's no air left.
"You couldn't have possibly known."
What's the point of dating again? I could end up in a similar situation. I've experienced people hiding who they really are until it's too late. You'll only begin to realize what's happened after they've sunk their filthy claws so deep that you feel it in your bones. There won't be any natural means of escape. In fact, you can't escape at all, not really. You must remain within a 150-mile radius of your captor. That's not freedom, that's just a leash with a lot of slack.