I knew the day would come, I even knew it was coming soon as I got notifications from the prison/victims line that my stalker would be released this month. Still when I got the text that he was indeed out it knocked me on my ass… literally. I sat there as thoughts of everything that I had gone through with him came flooding back, and the thoughts of how far I have yet to come. It does not seem like enough time has passed.
I’m not ready. I’m still weak. I’m still hurt.
I’m sure his time in prison didn’t go as fast as mine out here, but yet I still find myself searching for the last two years of my life in quiet dismay and disbelief. He got released early on good behavior (you know since it is hard to hurt women in prison) and yet my “good behavior” still has me staggering to find myself, where I fit in, and asking the age old question “who the hell have I become anyway”?
The hardest thing to convey to anyone seems to be how my body, my psyche is reacting. Logically I know, for the most part, that I am physically safe. He does not know where I live, and quiet honestly probably does not have the energy to try and find me. I know that. My mind knows that, but it has not stopped my body from trembling, filling itself with all the energy that comes from the fight or flight feelings. Panic attack count yesterday: 3. And that is not just almost panic attacks, that is leaving in the middle of work, hiding in the bathroom stall waiting for the klonipin to kick in so I could feel as if I had some control over my breathing again.
I feel like damaged goods. Sometimes I feel like I should be “over it” and that other people think that too. Nevertheless, I am not, and I do not know when I will be. He tried to kill me. Literally knife to me, phones smashed, pinned down begging for my life type of thing. Most of those details no one knows, and honestly I doubt it would be helpful if people in my life knew those details (except for perhaps a counselor). I do not want to be seen as a victim, I want to be seen as a survivor and in that, I want acknowledgment. I want people to stop acting or thinking as if I should be “over it”.
I am angry. So very angry.
I am angry that I had to go through any of that. I am angry that I worked so hard to put him in prison and he is free again to do this to someone else. I am angry that I even had to explain to anyone yesterday why I would react in such a high anxiety way. I am still picking up the pieces of my life, I have made leaps and bounds. I have moved, I have started working again, I have made huge strides that do not include me sitting alone at 3 in the morning contemplating why I am here anymore. The dark thoughts come less often; I value my life more every day, and am striving to want even more from it.
I AM NOT DAMAGED. I AM HEALING.
Deal with it, I am.