I know his plea date is coming up in the next couple of days. I know he’s been working with his lawyers. Thinking about that night. He’s a narcissist, so I’m not sure that he’ll be breaking a sweat, but I know he’ll be angry with me for the inconvenience. I’m sure he’d love the opportunity to put me back in my place. Before I was weak and vulnerable, just a girl. And now I have fought for this legal case.
I’m trying not to think about the date. I’m trying not to consider the ramifications, the subsequent communication. The emotions that will follow, the processes both legally and mentally I will be faced to endure.
I am in the eye of the storm. An odd calm has descended. There is no talk about it. I am functioning, but my reality feels somewhat disconnected. I am already protecting myself.
The last few weeks have been a tangle of events, memories, flashbacks, emotions, working with my therapist. I now stand gasping for breath. Realising I have surpassed a point of no return. Nothing is familiar. Eerie silence and stillness descends.
My routines continue. My obsessions, my need for control. The daily demands of running the kids to school, managing the house, laundry, errands, etc. but these things are done in a robotic mode.
Although I have taken the power to bring these charges, I feel that I am at the mercy of him and the courts. I am the peasant girl to a ring of mercenaries. My degradation, my life, my body, my suffering will be for everyone to pick at, and for him to no doubt relish.
I am playing my role again, get up, do, don’t think, don’t feel, then go to bed.
No tears are allowed to escape, no screams will be allowed to force their way from my throat, no dropping to my knees in exhaustion and despair, there will be no expression of hurt, pain or fear. Because I can’t allow myself that pleasure, that loss of control.
I’m in the eye of the storm. All I can do is get up, keep going, keep doing. Because when the storm closes in, the fallout is going to be hard and I need to be ready.