No Feelings

I feel as if I simply don’t have feelings. I’m just living in this fog if staying busy. Working myself like crazy. Cleaning. Praying for the nightmare to be over.

I look at this man. The things he’s said and done replay endlessly in my head. I remind myself he never cares. He’s incapable of feeling, loving, true emotions. As I started this I thought, I could look back to when we first met in this diary. How amazing he was to me. How I felt he was “saving” me as I struggled through my first divorce. While I was so stricken with grief ending my first marriage. Realizing, I had no family support. I remember those entries today. I felt as if he was everything. I remember saying we were only friends but he was so nice to me.

That was just a line. A show to get me hooked and lured in. I was perfect for him. I see that now. Sad, defeated, vulnerable. I was everything he needed in life. I was the perfect option for him. Because I would be so easy to control, to defeat, to break further. I didn’t go look. I’m not doing that to myself. Negative.

I haven’t cried today. I can’t say I’m sad to be losing him. I’m sad to be losing the vision I had. The person I thought he could maybe one day be. The perfect future I planned out, though I knew it wouldn’t happen. It would never be that fairy tale. Not with him. I’m lonely at night. But I was already lonely. I remind myself this when the darkness creeps in. Nothings changed. I’m as lonely now as I was then. I’m just not being called names or worse. I’m not walking on eggshells. Yet, sometimes there were those brief flickering happy times. Now those are gone too. Losing the extreme lows, also means losing the rare extreme highs.

I’m already tired of my attorney. I cringe when I see his name. Because all I can think is $200/hour. This is going to cost so much money I don’t have in the end. So. Much. Money. I pray for an easy agreement. The quicker the better. The less money. The better. I just want the house. That’s it.

He’s being civil right now. Right now I can have the house. I pray that continues. Pray. I want easy. Done. The end. Yet, I had to sell my soul for the devil for that. I had to say I’d be his friend, I’d see him whenever he wanted until then divorce is done. I’ve done this for 14 years. What’s a few more months. If it’s cheaper, easier and I get my home.

Sticking with therapy. I’ll probably need it. Forever. My therapist told me this week she’s given me a diagnosis of PTSD and C-PTSD. Of course I held back the tears. She explained I meet all the criteria. I’ve lived with basically 14 years of abuse. It was clear. She then asked if I was surprised, knowing with my own background and as a social worker myself. Deep breath to regroup – On an educated level, no I’m not surprised. I started showing symptoms in at least 2011 that I remember. I know my escalated nightmares and paranoia are bad. Educationally it makes perfect since. On a personal level – Of course I’m surprised. Nobody wants to admit it was that bad. That they are damaged to this degree. That they are fighting this hard for their soul. To know how hard this diagnosis is to overcome. Nobody. Never  did I want to acknowledge it was that real.

But it was. I do have a long road ahead of me. I know this. I can do it tho. I will do it. I’ll come out the other side ahead. I’ll find me buried in there. I’ll heal. It’s not an option to give up. I have to fight this battle. One that’s only just begun.

I keep telling myself it’ll be easier to fight once it’s finalized. Once it’s officially over. Once I can remove the guard, know the outcome and begin rebuilding. Hopefully it’s sooner than later. Hopefully.