Letting go of the past

life escapes
resolve remains
it is enough
to know this path
leads away from it
leaving behind memories
smeared with gore
fit for flies
and dogs

I repeat this part of that last poem to remind myself that I can leave the past behind and why I should do that.

August 16, 2012 and August 18, 2012 are two dates on which my now ex husband participated in acts so vile against me that I may never recover from the depression, anxiety, and panic disorder that developed after that. And after that, I let him come home; it was an addictive relationship. I let him torture me emotionally, batter me physically, and ruin me socially. I was defamed in the social media, blackballed from social events in a group I had been been active with for over 40 years, and dropped by people I thought were my friends.

I am still suffering from shock and disbelief. Sometimes I think that all those horrible things must have happened to someone else, and I’m not sure if that’s good or bad. I DO want to distance myself from all of that as I do not feel safe being in the same city as my ex and his friends. The statute of limitations is running out; I decided that charging those people with the crimes they committed would only prolong my suffering and lead to great distress such as the panic attacks that I am just now learning to divert them before they have me curled in a ball on the floor, nauseated and dizzy, spewing at both ends.

Letting go of anger has to come before letting go of grief and sorrow. After today, I resolve to look forward and make steps towards building a new life. I have been homeless, at least partly by choice, and I finally applied for subsidized housing. I’ve been staying with friends or camping in the wilderness, something that I am actually quite good at. I had been afraid to acquire a permanent address (after losing my home to foreclosure) because it would be easier for ‘them’ to find me.

I want to walk the streets of the town that has been my home almost all of my adult life without fear; I want the friendship of people that I can trust; I fought for a long time with suicidal impulses and decided that I was not going to give in. My road to recovery will be a long one, if indeed it ever ends.

My other muses are awakening and I want to write play, and sing music, draw and paint pictures, photograph the beauty that I find around me. I am beginning to do these things, as these things reattach me to my spirit. My spirit nearly died from being hurt too much for it to bear. I want to laugh, and sing, and maybe even love again. I’ve discovered that I can find happiness and peace, and I want to be in a position where I can feel like that more of the time.IMG_2846 (2)


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