People have this need…to tell themselves certain things in order to cope with Life (and Death too, I guess). I have noticed it many times over the years I’ve spent as a recovering “victim of domestic/traumatic violence”, the way that people are too quick to look past the ugly realities attached to circumstances they talk about or make reference to in regard to how Life works for those of us who have made it to the other side of such a precariously lethal situation. They seem to think Life just POOF! gets alright again. Um, huh?
Because, no…it isn’t just “all better” for the survivor of violence; and I don’t fail to mention a survivor of a non-violent sociopath and/or narcissist who has chewed them up and spit them out on an emotional level. For me, Life on the other side of that former living nightmare is much more infused with freedom, yes; but not without a plethora of other issues that have been born since I got to this side.
I am not a case in which I remain unable to heal and progress toward what is considered “normal” social behavior; and I strive to maintain at least a minor connection to the outside world at all times so as to not become a total recluse cat lady. However, in spite of the things I do in this arena, the fact is unchanging at the end of every single day:
my ex-husband tried to murder me in a fit of deluded rage after psychologically terrorizing and physically torturing me for the duration of our marriage.
Unfortunately, the absolute betrayal and violation that I associate with those experiences in my past have changed the way that my brain responds to the male persuasion. I am a train wreck in “relationships”; I cannot trust a man on any serious level no matter how badly I may want to; that said:
without trust, there can only ever be NOTHING.