it is enough
to know this path
leads away from it
leaving behind memories
smeared with gore
fit for flies
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.