the whole waiting for something bad to happen thing.
Unable to do anything.
Just kindof blank and fuzzy.
Hopefully it will fade soon.
In July of 2003 I happily packed all his things into the back of his truck and sent him off to Idaho. I didn't care how bad things would get, just as long as he wasn't around anymore. And things did get bad. He stopped paying the mortgage because according to him "it was now my responsibility." He turned off the utilities one at a time, expecting me to switch them over to my name, even though in the six months until I left he send me a total of $800 and most of that was the first and only child support check he actually wrote out without it being garnished.
Soon I was sitting in the cold and the dark, borrow money from the girls' piggy banks to buy a loaf of bread for Christmas Dinner.
And most of the time I was happy enough. Except that he would call and call and call. He would call to make sure I was home. He would call to find out if I had left the girls in the house alone. he would threaten to call the police. He would threaten to come back and throw me out. He would beg to talk to "his girls." Fifty times a day he would call and leave messages.
I spent alot of time lying on my bed staring at the ceiling in some kind of comatose state of anxiety. I was packing and cleaning and making a plan to run while he wasn't looking. He would call and tell me exactly where I'd been that day. People stalked me for him. Was he going to come back and break all the windows on my van, loosen the spark plugs, take all my money? All things he's done before or said he was going to do. When he came over to "his" house he would go through everything, lecture me on how all the men in town would be trying to come over and screw me because I was vulnerable, and tell me how messed up the girls would be if we weren't together. He would talk at me until I started to cry and then he would apologize and be all nicey-nice. I wasn't buying it.
This time I didn't drink or smoke. I planned and I protected. And I forever pay the price for all of that. I didn't sleep much. I was living in some kind of fog in between sleep and being awake. I had 6 hours head start if he found out I was going in the other direction. I lost weight. I was down to a scary 115. I was running on adrenaline and not much else.
Yes, it's true. I feel like I'm right back there although things have changed. I have alot more power now. He can't legally call me ever. He can't send nasty emails. If he comes anywhere near me I'll just scream. But it's like the POW's trapped in a small cell for months. If the lights go out, even after they're safe at home, they go right back to that terrible place in their heads.
And even though it logically seems like there's not a whole lot he can do I can't feel free of it. He still chases me in my dreams. So I guess Ellen's right. I have to fix this. I have 6 months to fix this. I have to be free.