I am still hurting. I have taken the step of Blocking Writer on Facebook to help stop me from being able to actively look at his feed. It wasn’t enough to simply unfollow. And yet that wasn’t enough. My PTSD was triggered even more last night when I saw a photo a mutual friend was tagged in, with Writer very dressed up, out caroling with a group of friends, many mutual.
Yes, he deserves happiness, but so do I.
Writer says he is a big advocate of women’s rights, and has spoken of how a woman dresses, or even going to a club and dancing with a guy is not an invitation to be cay called, shamed, or raped.
I feel like I did wear revealing clothes, went to a club, was raped, mutilated, impregnated, and left for dead, while the perpetrator walked away. Rape has nothing to with sex, or the woman.. It is all about a broken man.
I feel like his actions were a Rape. They had nothing to do with me, I did not cause them, and yet I suffer. My “pregnancy”, my ongoing consuming reminder is the house. I still might have purchased it as a rental.. But if not for him would not have started a remodel or need to move into it. I cannot abort the house at this point. The project that was started must gestate, meanwhile costing me time and money. Money which is in short supply because my injuries interfere with my ability to work.
While I cannot abort, perhaps I can place the house up for adoption after completion, and seek a dwelling that does not trigger my pain at every turn. One that is not a block away from him. At least a mother of an unwanted pregnancy can seek child support.
Meanwhile, I suffer. Don’t tell me to snap out of it. I am trying. Good lord, I am trying.
Yes, Buddha says pain is inevitable and suffering is a choice. I am doing everything I am capable of to end that suffering. I can’t do it alone.