Domestic Abuse… PTSD?

I downloaded the first episode from a series called “Maid” on Netflix to watch while my daughter finishes training… got my coffee and sat in the sun. The weather was just perfect, cool breeze and warming sunshine. Kids playing calmly from a far.

I put my AirPods on and pressed play. Right in the middle of it my heartbeat rose up really fast, my legs started shaking, my hands started to fidget, my lips started to tremble. I found myself involuntarily scratching my thigh and i began to hyper ventilate… I looked up gazing at the scene around me to get grounded, but all i could I see are flashbacks. I wanted to punish myself for all the shit i had to bare over the years. 

Was this what ptsd looked like? Why did I stay? How have I been tolerating this? 

I wanted to go home and scream at him and tell him I don’t want you in my house, in my life… I never invited you back. I can’t fucking breath when you’re around! Why are you back here? We are not better!!! 

He’s no longer physically abusive, he no longer fights or screams like he used to… Nevertheless, I’m still fucking pissed at him… I can’t forget what he’s done. The flashbacks haunt me… I’m also still and probably always will be fucking afraid of him; I still walk on egg shells around him, I haven’t been sleeping right ever since he’s back, although I’m sometimes in bed for 12 hours, yet I hate getting out of bed. I wake up screaming. Every single night I wake up screaming at least once. Night terrors they call it. I’m having fucking night terrors; between falling, or being locked up, or snakes… even in my dreams I’m speechless to face my life.

And during the day… I’m fake. I smile. and Nod and say I’m ok. I smile scared and fuck scared and cook and take care of him and the kids scared! 

Yesterday I imagined blood leaking from his body, and it calmed me… his pain calmed me.

I keep day dreaming of talking to him… but every time I approach words don’t come out… instead I smile… instead I ask him if he needs anything.

I haven’t posted anything in a year… However, writing was always and remains my way of being true to myself, and I understand my feelings and my life through the words that come out of me… this is where no one can tell me I am wrong, or misunderstood, or belittle me and my feelings, thus slowly I’m going to try to flashback through this past year, in order to figure out how the fuck did I circle back to the same damn place I was in three years back…