Blogger Blues

I started this blog as personal therapy, a way to rid myself of all of the memories and the harmful feelings associated with them.  What I have found instead is that I am dwelling on the past, each bad memory linked to another as if I'm pulling an imaginary magician's neverending scarf from my brain.  Reliving the Texas Soapdish Massacre reminded me of the many times the police were involved.  I was stronger then.  I had filed for a restraining order, but in his vast maturity, He would sneak off post to my house and peer in the doors and windows until I called the police.  Once, after such a call, the officer and I were standing in my driveway discussing what to do in the event He returned.  I had no idea that He was hiding in the trunk of my car! 

Around the same time, one of his brilliant battle buddies gave him a pistol for "safe keeping".  Now, so many years later, I'm shocked as to how He avoided being arrested for having a gun on his person (under the seat of his car).  Of course, that was Texas and not much has changed.  I was too young to realize exactly how dangerous the situation was and can only now appreciate that I am alive and writing this today.

This blog was supposed to help with the healing process.  Instead, I'm reliving the abuse.  I wonder if the process (and I'm sorry to be so graphic) is like vomiting; you hate to do it, but just know you'll feel so much better when it's all over.  Ah, I seem to be blogging to myself anyway, so I'll have to judge if my purging all of this information is better for me and the ones I love or if I need to keep it all stored safely away in the little box in my chest like before.