A message appeared in my inbox recently from someone I'd hoped and begged the gods would leave me alone forever and ever, amen.
Obviously he didn't get the memo.
This was my first abusive partner, the one I kept going back to EVEN THOUGH I knew he was breaking me. The one who got me into drinking & drugging, the one who inspected my every inch to ensure I'd not embarrass him in public with my "fuckin weird-ass shit." The one who refused to buy a phone to ensure that I, his wife, could not contact my family or friends, so many states away. The one who punished me with sex, which should NEVER be used as a weapon. Of course, he did, along with his hands and his words.
The words hurt for much longer than the hands.
Initially, I was calm. Asked him to please stop contacting me. Did my deep breathing exercises. Had a shot of my rescue remedy. He called me rude, asked where I lived. My pulse began to thud. The old fear sweats crept up. Old me, the scared little weakling, would have given him anything he wanted until he'd leave me alone. Would have fallen to her knees and begged forgiveness for the attitude.
But new me? Pfft.
I asked him if he honestly thought I'd want to speak to him, who first broke me, and explained (using small words...) that I am finally free and happy, that he can no longer hurt me. Then I wished him a long, healthy life with his family, hit send, blocked him and his wife, and got hugs from my real Prince Charming. Because hugs make everything better, if even for a moment.
This woman is a strong woman, and no man has ownership over her. No man can make her cower. No man can make her hide under beds or in closets ever again.
*tittybump*
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