Never Again: Chapter 5

THIS POST IS THE FIFTH OF A SERIES OF POSTS IN WHICH I DESCRIBE A RELATIONSHIP I HAD WITH AN EMOTIONALLY AND SEXUALLY ABUSIVE MAN. CHAPTER 4 IS HERE AND THE REST OF THE SERIES CAN BE FOUND ON THE STORIES & SERIES PAGE. THANK YOU FOR READING, AND PLEASE FEEL FREE TO SHARE THIS STORY SO THAT OTHERS CAN LEARN FROM MY EXPERIENCES INSTEAD OF NEEDING TO MAKE THE SAME MISTAKES.

I was getting sicker. Waking up for work was becoming more impossible than the standard Monday blues. My first thought in the morning when I woke up and sat up was routinely, “I’m just too exhausted to get through today,” and I would need to seriously consider whether any of it was worth it at all. When I had to visit clients or sites for work, I would take a nap in my car in a supermarket parking lot afterwards, and tell my manager Angela that there had been traffic on the way back. I was listless, my cheeks becoming hollower by the day, my hair wasn’t growing anymore, my skin was pallid and my lips such a dull pink as to be nearly grey.  It seemed like every food made me sick, so I wasn’t eating. I didn’t know what to eat and I began to become fearful of the negative effects, so I simply abstained.

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Love only grows by sharing. You can only have more for yourself by giving it away to others. (Brian Tracy)

Don’t ask me for relationship advice because I will always just tell you to break up with them and throw their shit in a dumpster, because I do not understand the concept of allowing anyone to treat you poorly- this is a zero tolerance zone

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If you consider a woman less pure after you’ve touched her, then maybe you should look at your hands

Never Again: Chapter 4

THIS POST IS THE FOURTH OF A SERIES OF POSTS IN WHICH I DESCRIBE A RELATIONSHIP I HAD WITH AN EMOTIONALLY AND SEXUALLY ABUSIVE MAN. CHAPTER 3 IS HERE AND THE REST OF THE SERIES CAN BE FOUND ON THE STORIES & SERIES PAGE. THANK YOU FOR READING, AND PLEASE FEEL FREE TO SHARE THIS STORY SO THAT OTHERS CAN LEARN FROM MY EXPERIENCES INSTEAD OF NEEDING TO MAKE THE SAME MISTAKES. 

 

My job was boring. I was a staff scientist at an environmental consulting agency, and per the instructions of my overbearing manager, Angela, we used AIM Pro for intraoffice communications. I also used it for personal correspondence.

“What would we name our kids?” Eli asked me one day over instant messenger as I mindlessly entered potential clients’ information into a spreadsheet.

“I don’t know… I could see us having a daughter.”

“I’d love a daughter. But you know I’d be so protective.”

“Not as protective…”

“…as you!”

We both laughed.

He continued, “You’d come home one day and ask where she is, and I’d be like, ‘Um… She was right here,’ and we would go out and see her eating tomatoes in the garden.”

“Who eats plain whole tomatoes?!” I laughed.

“I did! She would get it from me!” he insisted.

“She’d have pigtails.”

“And your green eyes.”

“Green eyes aren’t inherited, they’re a mutation.”

“Whatever. She’d look like you.”

“I like the name Abbie.”

“But hyphenated with something.”

“Yeah…”

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Two words, seven letters

The weird thing about the digital era is that you can fall for someone, really fall for them, without ever meeting. Not in an obsessive fan-fic way, but with very deep, true, invested emotion.  Continue reading

Do not make homes out of people. This will leave you homesick and sad, missing arms that cannot hold roofs, hearts with shaky foundations (Michelle K. ‘Home’)

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Have you written memoirs?

The first chapter was easy, describing how we met and how it started.

Chapters 2 and 3 have been really tough, depicting the slow slide into the realm of an unhealthy relationship.

I don’t know how many chapters it will ultimately be. I haven’t even gotten to the really fucked up shit yet. For the first time in a long, long time I find myself crying about it.

While I write it, I’m emotionless- I’m trying to search for the right words to make you feel what I want you to feel. But then after, I read it over and it hits me- this is real. It happened. It happened to me.

How do you deal with the emotions dredged up when you write memoirs?

No, really, that’s not rhetorical, I’m asking you. What do you do about it?

Never Again: Chapter 3

THIS POST IS THE THIRD OF A SERIES OF POSTS IN WHICH I DESCRIBE A RELATIONSHIP I HAD WITH AN EMOTIONALLY AND SEXUALLY ABUSIVE MAN. CHAPTER 2 IS HERE AND THE REST OF THE SERIES CAN BE FOUND ON THE STORIES & SERIES PAGE. THANK YOU FOR READING, AND PLEASE FEEL FREE TO SHARE THIS STORY SO THAT OTHERS CAN LEARN FROM MY EXPERIENCES INSTEAD OF NEEDING TO MAKE THE SAME MISTAKES. 

There wasn’t much that I could eat without getting sick, so Eli boiled plain white rice while I sat on the couch trying to avoid eye contact with Lucy. She was still mentally confined to the corner but following our every motion with her eyes, and would occasionally whine gently or optimistically wag her tail in the hopes that she would be released.

Eli exited the kitchen with a bowl of rice for me, a glass of neat scotch for himself, and joined me on the couch. I nudged him and gestured toward the dog, but he ignored me and turned on the television. After a while I asked if I could borrow his laptop to e-mail my parents and let them know I had arrived safely. I browsed the Internet and ate my rice while he sipped scotch and watched the news.

When we were both ready for bed, he finally allowed Lucy to move and give me my greeting, commanding her “COME!” as we walked up the stairs to the bedroom. She wasn’t allowed on the bed, but after nearly licking my face raw with her ebullience, she settled on the floor and we climbed under the covers. Eli spooned me from behind, one hand cupping my butt and the other resting between my breasts.

In the morning, Eli told me he wanted to show me something. He led me downstairs to his study and asked me what I thought. Continue reading

Never Again: Chapter 2

THIS POST IS THE SECOND OF A SERIES OF POSTS IN WHICH I DESCRIBE A RELATIONSHIP I HAD WITH AN EMOTIONALLY AND SEXUALLY ABUSIVE MAN. CHAPTER 1 IS HERE AND THE REST OF THE SERIES CAN BE FOUND ON THE STORIES & SERIES PAGE. THANK YOU FOR READING, AND PLEASE FEEL FREE TO SHARE THIS STORY SO THAT OTHERS CAN LEARN FROM MY EXPERIENCES INSTEAD OF NEEDING TO MAKE THE SAME MISTAKES. 

It was two weeks before Christmas, and Eli had driven up north to stay for the weekend and give me my Christmas gift. He wouldn’t tell me what it was.

He was due in before I got home from work that Friday, so I told him where the hide-a-key was and encouraged him to make himself at home.  That evening, he let me into my house and took me to the bathroom where he had drawn a bath, complete with scented candles and aromatic salts.

This was just the first part, he told me, closing the door so that I could undress and fully relax.

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