Court and PTSD.

I was diagnosed with post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) yesterday… and all I wanted to say was “yeah, no shit”… and I get to relive it all daily, and come Monday I get to relive it in front of my stalker, in a courtroom.

The “Affidavit of Probable Cause” lists out eight incidences where I was harmed in some way, whether physically or mentally. Eight.  The last two years of my life, typed up nicely in one court document stating what hell my stalker put me through, here sitting in my lap, in black and white… When I first read it during my “pre-court” meeting with the prosecutor, I read the list as though it were about someone else.  That numbness is a survival tactic that I have carried for many years now; it safeguards my fragile self from reliving the brutal truths of my past, but come Monday that numbness will do me no good.  It is time to feel, to deal with this shit once and for all, and then talk about it, convey it to a court room and pray that I have the strength to keep my shit together on the stand.

Therefore, today I feel, and share…

He got a hold of me days after my ex-husband and I had discussed divorcing. I was vulnerable, weak, and desperately needed some attention.  I was so tired of feeling ignored, and invisible that I welcomed him into my life, after all I had wondered about him for so long.  Eight years ago, we seemed to be a good match.  He treated me with respect, something he never showed other women, and I felt special in his light.  I was positive that he could not hurt me, not like others had, not like he had to others.  I was so naïve, and so mistaken.

The physical abuse started a month after we began seeing one another, the mental and verbal abuse started from day one, if I am perfectly honest.  He was a junkie.  I discovered needles and drugs throughout my home.  He blamed his shooting meth on me, said that if I were more communicative, more available for him he would not feel like he had to get high.  He also told me that he would never, ever hurt me if it were not for the drugs.  I told him I would leave him, that he would never see me again, unless he got into some sort of in-house treatment facility.  I felt this was the safest option for me at the time, as there was no telling what he would do if he were not admitted somewhere.  He agreed to get help, but it did not matter. He kept shooting up, even while at the facility, the abuse did not end and I became terrified of everything about him.

One night, after he had left treatment, when he was not sleeping, he woke me up abruptly, drug me down my stairs and informed me that he was going to tell me all of the things I needed to do to make our relationship work.  He decided that forcing me down onto the couch for three hours, not letting me get up, or move at all, was the best way to start this “conversation”.  That night I received my first black eye.  That is what did it for me.  It was not the countless hours of abuse, or the drugs, or how god-awful I felt about myself when I was near him; it was a fucking black eye that pushed me over the edge.  All I could think was how when mom left my dad that she had a similar black eye.  And here I was… doing the same shit, keeping that alive in my bloodline.

I filed the restraining order three days later.  It took all of my strength to walk into the police department with my obviously wounded self and tell them that I had let a man put his hands on me, and that it had been happening for too long (all though not as long as it could have).  Pictures were taken, lots and lots of pictures were taken, and the first of twenty or so police reports was made.  The protective order stated that he was to have no contact with me whatsoever, no emails, texts, phone calls, etc.  An order he never acknowledged unless it was to tell me that it was worthless.

Fast forward to a year later.

Many police reports, death threats, etc. leads to stalking charges, and me left with post traumatic stress disorder.  And fuck if I’m not sick of being strong and brushing this shit off.  What he did to me was WRONG, and extremely damaging. I should not have to hide that. I should not have to be ashamed of that. I should be able to talk about it freely and openly without worrying if I am being “overly dramatic” for someone’s liking.  And if someone is “sick of hearing about it” imagine how I must feel dealing with this shit daily.

EVERY FUCKING DAY.

EVERY NIGHT WHEN I TRY TO SLEEP.

Nightmares and insomnia blistering over my fragile heart.

12 thoughts on “Court and PTSD.”

  1. you are entitled to feel however you want and you are expected to feel that way. You went through hell and now you are working through it. If you don’t face your feelings, you won’t heal. Don’t let anyone tell you that you are overdramatic or that you don’t have the right to own your feelings.

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  2. Your strength and courage never ceases to amaze me. I am so sorry you were abused. I am here for you now and always. xo

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  3. God I love you. I love how brave you are. I love how strong you are. I love how funny and kind you are. I KNOW you can do this. There is a group of us standing, scrunchies in hand, right behind you.

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      1. I have one too and I’m not afraid to use it! You have more strength than you even realize. It took an amazing amount to just write this. You have support here girl!

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  4. I can’t stand it when people feel that “You should be over it by now”. I have had many people treat me this way when it came to the death of my Father, Grandmother and then 8 years later the loss of my Mother. Each one had its own impact on me. Something tragic, traumatic or painful in your life you don’t just “get over”. People in your life that feel you are being “overly dramatic and are “sick of hearing about it” don’t truly put themselves in your shoes, or even attempt to, and love you for who and what you are. You don’t need them. Reading this made my heart ache for you. I am so sorry for what you have and are experiencing in your life. I hope you can find your way through to a brighter day…no matter how long it takes. My prayers are with you and I’m glad you are safe.

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  5. If you’ve never been through it, you have no idea. The self doubt, the self loathing, the self blame…and the sheer fear. I’m so sorry that this is still a part of your life…and I’m sure it will be for some time. You’re too good of a person to have to deal with this. Its not a matter of pretending it didnt happen or turning down the dramatic aspect of it, rather finding those around you who are willing to lift you up in order to work through it. I believe in you…you WILL get through this. You’re doing the right thing…just stay strong at the right times and know its okay to be scared and cry when you need to. Love you to pieces…

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  6. Way to get this shit out girl. It helps release the power. I wish you could see you through my eyes. You are so much stronger than you think. I know it. And I am so thankful for you. Healing every day with your battle to keep you, you is inspiring. I just love you so much.

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  7. I love you. People are so fucking stupid. They want you to get over it because you make it hard for them to feel nothing. Nevermind them, you’ll get better when you get better, and you sure as hell can’t do it without closure and feeling safe. Keep sharing, we’re stronger shoulder to shoulder.

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  8. I am so glad you are able to write about this. I have a good good friend whose husband is becoming more and more abusive, both physically and sexually. It’s difficult for me to know what to say, am I saying it right, seriously…what the fuck to do. Then I feel guilty because I am concerned about what to say, when she is living the nightmare. I wish all of the abusive assholes could just be gathered up and dropped in a pit. I am so thankful that you are sharing because I am learning.

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