It's hard sometimes. That's an understatement. It's hard a lot of times. This new life I mean. This being brave and not taking ownership of something that isn't mine to own. This being able to concentrate and read a whole sentence. Not sure why I expect others to read this since I have trouble reading this much myself. It's hard enough just getting the words out. But healing at the same time.
Little things. Those little things that make me laugh are coming more and more often. But I won't say those other things don't get under my skin at times. My kids and I had such a good Thanksgiving celebration, for example. Then, as we were resting that evening and watching a movie together, a not so good little thing happened. I received a notification that my former husband liked a photo on my instagram. I'm sure some people would think that was great. But, when it was a post from over 4 years ago, and when this is an absolutely no contact situation because of the horrific mental, emotional, sexual, spiritual, financial and every other kind of abuse he inflicted on me, that one little thing threw me for a loop.
So why was he stalking me that night? (Yes. The word is appropriate.) Who knows. And who cares, except for the fact that he just won't drop it but makes sure others think I'm crazy. Pretty sure I'm not. Also pretty sure I've learned I don't have to own that garbage anymore. No matter what he tells others, I know the truth.
Seeing his instagram handle pop up on my notifications, connected with a like, would have given me hope a couple of years ago. Now it creeps me out. Realizing he had looked through at least 4 years of pictures before clicking like on that one. Knowing that wasn't all he did that night, that his stalking involved more. It’s called a trigger. What it did to me. I needed to breathe. To concentrate on how wonderful our day had been as a family and not let him ruin it like he had so many times in the past. I prayed. It had been the best Thanksgiving, maybe even the best holiday we had ever had as a family. We were happy. And I couldn’t let him ruin it. Not with this one little thing. Not like he used to do.
I'm getting better all the time. But I'm also learning that having set backs every now and then, well it's ok. Little things trigger me somethings. Also big ones. Like the day he drove the firetruck right up in front of the place I work so he could let a co-worker out. Then he proceeded to do all he could to see me. I had to get up, walk away from my desk, and stop working, hiding in the back til they left. Seriously? After all he has done to me? After all the lies he has told people about me? Why was he trying so hard to see me? I could feel the anxiety creeping up through my arms. I’ve learned to recognize it now. And I’m learning how to calm down. But why on earth would he do that?
And how about the 2 times recently, so far, that he's driven the fire truck around in the parking lot in front of my building? In the 12 years I've worked there, no firetruck has ever been driven around like that in the parking lot to my recollection. He has done it twice lately. That I’ve seen. Not to let someone out. Just to do. That big truck. Intentionally used to trigger me. Why? Denials. Excuses. Lies. Calling me crazy. But no more. I won’t take that on me. His actions are not my fault, not my imagination and not my responsibility. Never have been.
All these things are difficult. Sometimes I can't breathe. But, eventually, and even a lot sooner than it used to be, I'm finding treasures and triumphs hidden in the struggles. I’m choosing to listen to God sooner. I hear Him telling me to slow down, trust Him, wait. I sense Him calming me. Even in the most difficult events that hurt the hearts of my kids. Yes, they are adults. Adults that have spent their whole lives hurting because of someone else’s choices. Smiling in public because mom did. But, knowing that, when we got home, the tears would come again. They each still try to deal with it all in their own way. We’ve all become masters of looking good on the outside.
If I could change that one thing for them, if there was one thing I could do so that their dad would have been a godly father for real, or would become one, I would do it. I tried. Oh how I tried. But it’s not my job. All I can do is pray. Be honest. And no longer carry the guilt he piled on me. The blame for his sin. It’s not mine to carry. It doesn’t belong to my children either. I hate seeing them hurt. If I could change just this one little thing......
Little things. Those little things that make me laugh are coming more and more often. But I won't say those other things don't get under my skin at times. My kids and I had such a good Thanksgiving celebration, for example. Then, as we were resting that evening and watching a movie together, a not so good little thing happened. I received a notification that my former husband liked a photo on my instagram. I'm sure some people would think that was great. But, when it was a post from over 4 years ago, and when this is an absolutely no contact situation because of the horrific mental, emotional, sexual, spiritual, financial and every other kind of abuse he inflicted on me, that one little thing threw me for a loop.
So why was he stalking me that night? (Yes. The word is appropriate.) Who knows. And who cares, except for the fact that he just won't drop it but makes sure others think I'm crazy. Pretty sure I'm not. Also pretty sure I've learned I don't have to own that garbage anymore. No matter what he tells others, I know the truth.
Seeing his instagram handle pop up on my notifications, connected with a like, would have given me hope a couple of years ago. Now it creeps me out. Realizing he had looked through at least 4 years of pictures before clicking like on that one. Knowing that wasn't all he did that night, that his stalking involved more. It’s called a trigger. What it did to me. I needed to breathe. To concentrate on how wonderful our day had been as a family and not let him ruin it like he had so many times in the past. I prayed. It had been the best Thanksgiving, maybe even the best holiday we had ever had as a family. We were happy. And I couldn’t let him ruin it. Not with this one little thing. Not like he used to do.
I'm getting better all the time. But I'm also learning that having set backs every now and then, well it's ok. Little things trigger me somethings. Also big ones. Like the day he drove the firetruck right up in front of the place I work so he could let a co-worker out. Then he proceeded to do all he could to see me. I had to get up, walk away from my desk, and stop working, hiding in the back til they left. Seriously? After all he has done to me? After all the lies he has told people about me? Why was he trying so hard to see me? I could feel the anxiety creeping up through my arms. I’ve learned to recognize it now. And I’m learning how to calm down. But why on earth would he do that?
And how about the 2 times recently, so far, that he's driven the fire truck around in the parking lot in front of my building? In the 12 years I've worked there, no firetruck has ever been driven around like that in the parking lot to my recollection. He has done it twice lately. That I’ve seen. Not to let someone out. Just to do. That big truck. Intentionally used to trigger me. Why? Denials. Excuses. Lies. Calling me crazy. But no more. I won’t take that on me. His actions are not my fault, not my imagination and not my responsibility. Never have been.
All these things are difficult. Sometimes I can't breathe. But, eventually, and even a lot sooner than it used to be, I'm finding treasures and triumphs hidden in the struggles. I’m choosing to listen to God sooner. I hear Him telling me to slow down, trust Him, wait. I sense Him calming me. Even in the most difficult events that hurt the hearts of my kids. Yes, they are adults. Adults that have spent their whole lives hurting because of someone else’s choices. Smiling in public because mom did. But, knowing that, when we got home, the tears would come again. They each still try to deal with it all in their own way. We’ve all become masters of looking good on the outside.
If I could change that one thing for them, if there was one thing I could do so that their dad would have been a godly father for real, or would become one, I would do it. I tried. Oh how I tried. But it’s not my job. All I can do is pray. Be honest. And no longer carry the guilt he piled on me. The blame for his sin. It’s not mine to carry. It doesn’t belong to my children either. I hate seeing them hurt. If I could change just this one little thing......
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