I awoke today, feeling anxious. A calendar reminder told me what day it was. Independence day. The day that marked my escape from a world of madness and endless mental torture by a despotic, narcissistic monster. But I still didn’t really put it together until I was speaking with my beloved, and she reminded me that “The Body Remembers.” I felt better knowing that, even if I was still feeling triggered by my CPTSD.
My freedom and life began again after the death of my youngest brother. He committed suicide. Another victim of my father’s alcoholic sins. All of us (including my mother) were mistreated, terrorized, and damaged by my father’s behavior. We escaped any way we could. But my sister took her life seventeen years ago, and my brother five years ago — all victims of my father rage and alcoholism
I was fortunate, the US Navy became my family for seven years and I found people around it that loved me and helped me heal a bit. Fast forward through seven years of the Navy and I met my first wife. Six years older than me, attractive and cunning, she was in effect my father (his behavior) in a skirt. She destroyed everyone around her. I became like my mother, just trying to survive. A hellish life that proceeded to get worse every year, each day a slow walk through hell. My brother woke me up. His suicide woke me to the horror that my life was.
I planned to leave, but I was weak. I’d planned it many times before. Fantasized of going many times, but I was nervous. Afraid to go. I had started to believe the lies she had told me for so many years.
I felt weak again, and I told my self that I would leave after Christmas. I began to pull back and protect myself. Hiding often in my study, behind a locked door.
Then the impossible happened. Attempting to manipulate me, she pretended to commit suicide like my brother. Faking an attempt at suicide with a dollar store pair of safety scissors. I reacted by calling the police. Unable to manipulate the police, fire dept. and social services, they committed her involuntarily for five days.
That allowed me to escape from her. I have no doubt she would have tried to either imprison me, kill me or something worse. I survived, rented an apartment, filed for divorce, and started a four-year trek that included eighteen months of getting divorced and then being sued four times by her.
Today marks that anniversary.