I don’t know why I always run
is it fear of the fall or fear of the touch
And I don’t know where the angels sleep
And I don’t know how to really love
I’ve never stood still long enough
And I don’t know where the angels sleep
But I am alive and standing strong
I’m no farther forward, just farther along
I hold on to my pride and dig in deep
It’s pulling me down, and I am no closer to release
And I don’t know where the angels sleep
I don’t know how to see you now
The friend from before is different somehow
And I don’t know where the angels sleep
And I don’t know when I’ll love again
But I don’t trust myself to just let you in
And I don’t know where the angels sleep
It’s taken ten thousand days
To get stuck in my ways
And it offers no grace
I cannot stand this place
With love in my face
I walk away slowly
I don’t know where the angels sleep
No, I don’t know where the angels sleep
~Bebo Norman Where the Angels Sleep
I have been very light-hearted in my posts as of late… but right now my mind is full and my heart is heavy and I NEED to write.
This may all come out as a ramble, but i need what is happening in my heart and in my head to make sense… to become black and white, to fit into words and sentences that I can hold to.
Right now it is all just too much.
I want to crawl in a black hole and shut the world out. I want to recoil into myself and not allow anyone near… Not allow anyone in. Not that I think that very many people want to be near. But I just want to shut out everyone and everything that may hurt me or use me.
I am so upset my hands are shaking as I type this.
I met to my pay-a-friend at lunch today. Our 30 minute session lasted 50 minutes. And I only left because I was upset and had to go back to work.So now I am sitting at work shaking and upset and trying so very hard to tell myself I am fine and be cheerful and friendly to people who walk by and call, and to not burst into tears. My last two counseling sessions have been miserable…
I have decided I don’t like my counselor. I HAVE liked her for the past seven months…. But now I don’t.
On June 8th it will be one year since he attacked me.
I think it is strange how much that date means to me… how significant it is in my life. But my counselor says that is very normal… it’s an anniversary of a death of a sort, and it natural and important to grieve it. But she also says it’s the anniversary of a new beginning, and it natural and important to celebrate it.
One year since my ex fiancée attacked me.
Its almost funny to me that I still say nice phrases like “attacked me†and “assaulted†me when speaking of the night. I talked with my counselor about that today… about how “that†word sticks in my throat and is so so hard for me to say even now.
We talked about the details of what happened that day…
I HATE talking about details…
When I was still in Columbus my counselor had me write out what happened that night and how I felt as it was happening and as I wrote it. It was so hard to do, and after I was done I read it aloud to my counselor, to Katie, and to Erica and Amy, and then I never read it again. I have let other people read it, but I don’t.
Because I would rather NOT remember.
It makes me sad, and it makes me angry. And I think that is NORMAL and FINE. My counselor thinks I still put things in my box. She thinks that I haven’t dealt fully with my emotions, and specifically I haven’t dealt with my anger. She said we need to talk about what has happened more specifically, so I can see how I lost control and then see how I took it back. She thinks it is empowering. I think it is horrible and hard. She said I need to allow myself to get angry.
I told her I don’t want to get angry. I want to get BETTER. She said I have to get angry in order to get better. That I can’t be afraid of my own emotion or hurt or anger.
But I am.
There is a hurt that is so deep that you think you will never ever heal. There is a grief that washes over you in tidal waves. There is anger so real and so raw you think it may consume you.
It isn’t even anger… it rage. It is consuming and horrible and I hate feeling this way.
I try so very hard to move on, to forget, to heal. I don’t know what more to do. I moved away, I took back control, I opened up to my closest friends, and I found a counselor and have continued to go at least once a week for the past 10 months.
But I don’t know how to deal with my anger.
It’s too much.
And I don’t want people to look at me and think I shouldn’t feel this way, or that I am being overdramatic.
I don’t know how to trust anyone enough to let them in.
Most people don’t know that when my ex fiancée was younger he tried to kill someone.
He and another friend beat this man up and tied him to a chair and whipped him with electrical cords. Then they poured gasoline on him and tried to catch him on fire, but the match didn’t light and they got caught. He was arrested and charged with attempted murder, which got pleaded down to aggregated assault.
He said he changed, and I wanted to trust him… but when he got angry and said he would kill me… I believed him. I really did think he would kill me. I still do.
Most people don’t know that.
Most people don’t know how he would get angry with me, and push me, and shake me, and pin me in corners and hit me, and then blame me for making him angry.
Most people don’t know that on more than one occasion I made me mad enough to choke me, and his fingers closed around my throat and I clawed at his arms and when he finally let go I had little bruises where he fingers had pressed hard into my skin.
Most people don’t know about how he would look at me with such anger and hate in his eyes and tell me that I was stupid, and ugly, and hard to put up with, and hard to love. And I would feel so unlovable, and so horrible, and so ashamed.
Most people don’t know how when I wanted to leave he would yell and threaten me, or he would turn and say he loves me, and no one would ever love me the way he did, and that God had a plan for us, and God said we were supposed to be together.
Most people don’t know how he would come to my house and use the hidden key to get in, and how when we hid the key he would pound on my door and scream at me and threaten me.
Most people don’t know that when I was in Minneapolis I would have to call Brian or Tim, or even the police crying, and ask them to come to my house at 2 am because Matt was outside and I was afraid, and I really thought he would hurt me.
And most people don’t know that even after I went to Ohio and broke off my engagement and even after he attacked me he would still come to house and terrorize me. And I would stay after night at my parents house or I would call the police and I would call Lisa and Brian and Steve and Amy and my sister, and they would come over and stay with me and stay up late and sleep on the floor because I was so afraid.
I still am afraid.
Most people don’t know fear like that.
But I do.
I know what its like to lie in bed and imagine every sound and every shadow is someone coming to hurt you. And how you can’t even convince yourself that it isn’t true because the reality is that it could be true. The reality is he has hurt you, in the worst imaginable way.
I know what it’s like to replay those awful images in your head again and again and relive them over and over every time you shut your eyes and attempt to sleep.
And it makes me ANGRY.
I AM angry.
I am angry that I am still so afraid.
I am angry that he hurt me.
I am angry that he said he loved me.
I am angry that he came to my house and threw me down and fucked me on my kitchen floor like it didn’t matter. Like I didn’t matter.
I am angry that he violated me. I am angry that he betrayed me. I am angry that he took something from me.
I am so angry that he said he loved me while he hurt me. I am so angry that he used God to justify what he did.
I am angry that I had to go to the police, I am angry that I had to go to court, I am angry that I had to testify, and I am angry that I had to get a protection order.
I am angry that I had to talk about the details again and again, with the doctors at the hospital, and the police, and the lawyers, and the judge, and my counselor. And each time it was like… reliving it all over again.
I am angry that even after I got a protection order he still terrorized me. He still wouldn’t leave me alone.
I am angry that I had to move far far away just to get him to leave me alone.
I am angry that I opened the stupid door without thinking on June 8th. I am angry that I didn’t fight harder and wasn’t stronger and wasn’t braver.
I am angry that I ever loved him. I am angry that I ever believed in him. I am angry that I ever kissed him or let him touch me or hold me, I am angry that I ever trusted him, I am angry that I ever felt sorry for him.
I am angry that I don’t hate him as much as I want to. I am angry that I am sad for him, and that a part of me still worries for his walk with God.
I am angry because my life was so changed… emotionally, mentally, physically… on that day… and his was not.
I am angry because there was no justice… because he hurt me so so so deeply and just went on with life. And I want there to be justice.
And I am angry because I don’t trust myself. I don’t trust my choices. And I don’t trust very many people enough to let them in.
I am angry. And I don’t want anyone to tell me that I shouldn’t be.
The truth is I want someone to get angry with me and for me. I want them to want justice. I want someone to protect me and promise me that they would keep me safe and they wouldn’t allow anything like this to ever happen again. And that if my ex fiancée came they would punch him in his stupid face for hurting me.
I want someone to hold me and let me cry and let me yell and just let me be angry.
I want someone to understand.
But I am not sure anyone can.
And I don’t want to be hurt.
And I don’t want to be used.
And so I just want to shut everyone and everything out.
Because I am hurt, and broken, and so so so angry.
But I am not sure I trust myself enough to just let you in.
