I am not okay.

I have to painfully, but honestly, admit that I am not okay.  And to be honest - I'm not confident that I ever will be.  This cold, stark realization paralyzes me.

A lot of you have followed my posts, commented with your support, and cheered me on from afar. Some of you have spent immeasurable hours just listening to me vent, cry, bitch, and try to make sense of what is happening and how I'm feeling. I am forever grateful for that. 

I have fought a hard fight. One that I didn't start, or even care to participate in, but I had no choice. The vile, abusive, disgusting man that is still legally my husband, decided to unleash a tornado of narcissistic rage on me. Binding my moves with the court, crippling me financially, and targeting every single thing I am and have worked for my entire life. All because I refused to be abused by him any longer. That's it. I never cheated. I don't lie. I worked multiple jobs to shower him with gifts, tools, vehicles that he never worked for or deserved. I took care of our bills, our home and our dogs. I took care of him. All the while being told that I wasn't loved or loveable. That I didn't deserve attention or affection. But I just wouldn't tap out. And for this reason alone - he's made it his mission to destroy me.

Throughout this journey, I've been told things like "you sure know how to pick them", or "well you married him" - essentially shifting the blame to me like I knowingly signed up for this. Do you know how hurtful that is? I did NOT sign up for this. I did not choose this abhorrent individual to be my husband. I didn't sign up for the years of emotional dismantlement, lying, cheating, manipulation and abuse. But I guess it's easier to place the blame on me instead of where it belongs. Somehow, I am now responsible for my own destruction?  Make that make sense.

My life - or let me more accurately rephrase it - my existence, is at the point where I am barely breathing. I rarely eat - both due to nausea and lack of financial means. I ensure that my dogs continue to live the life I promised to give them. None of this is their fault and I will not allow them to suffer. I cry almost daily when I get dressed for work - nothing fits me anymore since the weight loss. I cry when I look at myself in the mirror - the stress, anguish, and inability to care for myself show on my face, and in my eyes. Sure, I have moments where I take selfies and try to feel proud of myself - but those are fleeting. And bolstered. Because I don't really feel good. At all. I had to discontinue my therapy due to changes in my insurance and inability to afford the help. So, I'm back on my own.

I've lost so much time just defending myself in his bankruptcy case. I DIDN'T FILE BANKRUPTCY! But I got dragged into it. And if I didn't expose it for what it really is - a targeted hit at my credit and a shield from the divorce court - then I'd be dealing with trying to divorce a "poor, broke man" who plays victim VERY WELL. I don't know - does he look like a victim? Does he look like he's broke or experiencing financial hardship? He spends more in a day on food than I do in an entire month. I can't afford to eat, much less eat out.  Yet he's the victim. Refusing to work, while I work 2 & 3 jobs just to keep my roof over my head. Make that make sense. Make ANY of this make sense. Yes, I'm angry. I have no idea when I'll even be able go back to divorce court again... 

It's been 14 months since I decided to end his reign of terror on me and free myself. And you know what? I'm not free. Not only did his abuse not stop, but it's also gotten worse. Much, much worse. And the worst part of all?  There is no relief. Not from the police. Not from the courts. No relief in sight anywhere.

I used to be a strong, proud, fearless woman. Now? I'm weak, ashamed, and scared. If the dogs alert or start barking, it causes my heart to race fearing he showed up to the house. I now walk down my driveway scanning the area afraid that he's going to sneak up on me. I don't feel safe in my own home. And that sucks. 

This post isn't written to garner sympathy. It's just real, raw talk from a woman that just doesn't know if she can continue to hang on. I pray that I can find the strength because right now - I'm losing the battle.