Two weeks ago, it all came thundering down.
I shattered his world to rebuild mine.
The betrayal, the questioning, the bartering, the frozen smiles as we tried to hold it together for appearances sake. The uncomfortable combativeness of the words, "We need to talk"
The complete lack of emotion on my part, except a sense of relief, and the reclaimation of my deep sleep in the early hours of the morning. I didn't need to die, I needed to live.
The most disturbing part is, I was justified in feeling like a hounded animal. The revelation that he was in fact, always prowling, sniffing, recording cycles, seeking patterns, poised to have sex with me. "I think about it all the time" he said, and I felt like I had been doused in cold water.
My discomfort when wearing shorts or a shirt that was slightly too tight. The feeling of being watched when I reached overhead in some mundane household chore. Even just dancing off a rough week, shaking and twirling until I was grounded in myself again.
He was indeed always watching, always hungering, waiting for an opportunity to invade the body that I was merely existing in. It's like something out of a monster movie, and I lived like that for almost two years.
Is it any wonder I packed on weight in defense of my vulnerable parts? I'm no longer surprised at how quickly it piled on, after we moved in together.
Listening to your fear response is always the correct choice.
So, what's next? The home is broken but next spring is so far away. How do we coexist until then? These are questions I don't have answers for yet.
Work harder. Save money. Go to ground for the harsh months to come. When the time is right, Blossum.
You'll figure it out.
You always do.