He Did Not Understand Sentimental Value. I Keep Little Things That People Give Me Or That Remind Me Of

He did not understand sentimental value. I keep little things that people give me or that remind me of special times.

Some people keep pictures in this way. These things are fabrics in the tapestry of your history But not to him. Junk. Hoarding. Wasting space.

His mom gave him old pictures of him and his family. He didn't care and was really angry when I insisted we keep them. So he made me hold on to them, and here I am still holding on to them out of guilt.

These things are all sacred. I am having such a terrible time trying to throw them out.

Silly things I was not allowed to keep on my person ( off the top of my head):

A hair elastic on my wrist.

A purse (but he'd be so angry if I wasn't wearing one and he needed me to hold his stuff.)

A jacket when he thought it was too warm.

A sweater when I said he kept the ac too high in the summer.

Sandals.

Things he required me to have:

Tame, managed hair in all potential scenarios.

A purse, but only when he needed me to hold something and I needed to anticipate that before we left. Somehow.

A jacket in case it got cool. He didn't want to have to hear me complain.

Money for the extra hydro bill in the summer when i made him turn the ac so low.

High heel sandals.

He used to tell me that if I tried to say no to sex that I was being manipulative. My witholding was "punishing" him in an emotionally abusive way.

So I'd wipe the tears off my face, take a few deep breaths and let him have whatever he wanted.

I can smile and turn on the charm and climb on top of your dick five minutes after you called me a useless cunt. I’m so good at at “ getting over it ” for you; I can swallow my pain and rage for an eternity.

I wrote this post in the early weeks of freedom. Nearly three years later I'm still discovering new impacts of the damage.

Rinse, repeat.  Rinse, repeat.

I have started writing a number of my posts with “The worst thing about an abusive relationship is….” and then having to erase it because it isn’t true.  I can’t call this particular aspect or experience the worst thing.  It’s all the worst thing.

“Healing is layers. Healing is time. Healing is excruciating. Once you think it’s done, it’s not.”

— Mary DeMuth (via i-am-strong-all-on-my-own)

Because traumatized people often have trouble sensing what is going on in their bodies, they lack a nuanced response to frustration. They either react to stress by becoming “spaced out” or with excessive anger. Whatever their response, they often can’t tell what is upsetting them. This failure to be in touch with their bodies contributes to their well-documented lack of self-protection and high rates of revictimization and also to their remarkable difficulties feeling pleasure, sensuality, and having a sense of meaning.

“The Body Keeps The Score” by Bessel van der Kolk