I haven’t written a single thing all day, and honestly, I feel like I deserve a medal for that. Not for writing, but for dog management. I’ve been on full-time dog duty with Everest, Merlin, and Mimi. Mimi, in particular, is a character. She’s usually asleep, which is ideal because when she’s awake, she tends to create chaos. She’s maybe eight pounds soaking wet and yet fully convinced she can bully the other two dogs, who are easily three times her size. Confidence? Yes. Logic? None.
After a long day on dog duty, I managed to get the gang outside for most of it. But with snow still on the ground, I eventually admitted, okay, I’m not running a polar expedition here, time to bring them inside. Now, Merlin is in the living room hanging out with Alex, living his best cozy life, while Everest has claimed her spot in the office with me, clearly supervising to make sure I don’t accidentally get anything productive done. Mimi is sleeping here in the office.
I have therapy in about half an hour, and of course, my brain is doing that fun thing where it says, “I don’t know what to talk about.” Even though I actually do. I’m thinking I’ll talk about my reaction to looking at the pictures yesterday, how emotional and overwhelming it was. You know, the kind of thing that sneaks up on you and suddenly you’re like, “Oh. So we’re doing feelings today.”
Seeing the pictures of my ex brought me right back to the time when I was being abused. It stirred up a mix of anger and disgust, feelings I remember all too well. But this time, the anger wasn’t turned inward. It wasn’t aimed at me. It was directed at him, at the way he treated me, and at what he put me through. I felt disgusted thinking about how much time I had to endure his abuse, how long I survived in a situation that slowly wore me down.
I found myself replaying those moments, trying to understand how I could have gotten out sooner, even though I know leaving wasn’t simple. Leaving was terrifying. I don’t think I’ve ever been as scared as I was during that period of my life, especially when I finally did get out. Freedom didn’t feel like freedom at first. It felt like fear.
When I first left, I thought everything would immediately be okay, that the worst was over. However, the truth is that I was still deeply afraid. It took a long time for that fear to loosen its grip, for my body and mind to believe that I was truly safe.
What stands out to me now, looking back at those pictures, is something different. What I notice most is that I’m free. I’m living my life without his control, without his abuse. I have distance now, distance from the fear, from the harm, from the person I was when I was just trying to survive. And that realization, as painful as it is to revisit, reminds me of how far I’ve come.
I really wish I could talk the way I write. When I speak, I get tongue-tied, my brain decides to go completely offline, and suddenly I’m staring into the void trying to remember how words work. But when I write, I actually have time to think. I can pause, rearrange my thoughts, find the right wording, delete an entire sentence, rewrite it again… and then do that about a dozen more times until it finally sounds like me. Writing gives me space to breathe and think, while talking feels like a timed test I didn’t study for.
Therapy was good today. I talked about the pictures and how unexpectedly triggering they were. I also talked about Kevin and the girls when they were babies, and how once those memories started coming, they all came at once. It was overwhelming, but not in a bad way, more like my brain opened a drawer it hadn’t touched in a while, and everything spilled out onto the floor at the same time. Both Everest and Sandy were seen in the camera during my therapy session. Everest jumped up and you could see her behind me. Sandy was on my desk and looking at the camera during the session.
Right now I’m hiding out in the office. I know I need to leave it soon. I still have a hard time with the door shut and being alone in here, but at the moment, the quiet is kind of nice. It’s a break from the chaos of the living room, which feels like it’s always operating at maximum volume.
I do need to check on the dogs, though. I know they’re outside. Alex opened the door to let Everest out while I was in therapy. I’m not mad… but he definitely could’ve waited the fifteen minutes until I was done. Timing is apparently a work in progress.
I think I’ll go make myself some matcha tea now, because nothing says emotional processing like a warm drink and pretending everything is very calm and very under control.
I also need to look for Kel’s glasses, I promised her I would. Though, as Tommy pointed out, it’s not like she’ll be coming home for them anytime soon, so at least I have a little time to search. I do have pictures I want to post, but they’re on my laptop, so I’ll need to do it from there. I’ll share them on Facebook and Instagram once I get to it.
