Recognizing Abuse

I am getting help. I always knew what physical abuse looked like. I like to think that if I were ever affected by it, that I would have enough sense to get away. Mental abuse is different, but no less damaging. I see myself as intelligent, observant, and I have no idea how I have missed it. I have spent over a decade watching myself deteriorate, doubt, and slowly go mad. I have doubted my senses, my memory (and it is impeccable), and my feelings. I have felt frantic, desperate, and completely worthless while trying to figure out what the hell I’m doing wrong. It. Wasn’t. Me. It is called gaslighting. I am so damn relieved that it has a name. I am not alone. I am not crazy. My memory is freaking perfect. I can recite entire conversations verbatim, years after they occur. Part of my natural charm is that I go through what if scenarios, almost constantly. As a result, my memory has always been spectacular because I replay every freakin’ thing over and over studying it.

Check this out:

My sister sent that to me, along with a few other links, and the light turned on. Holy crap! That is my life. He omits. He distracts. He does this push/pull thing with my emotions. I’ve been so convinced that I am crazy. Not even trusting my eyes. He convinces me that I’m guilty when he’s done something wrong. It has been so absurd, but it sounds so reasonable when he speaks.

So this is where I am. I see that I’ve been in a fog. I’m now on a mission for mental and physical health. I’m on my 6th day straight of going to the gym and I’m going to keep going. It really helps me to think clearer and picks up my mood. Way better than brooding and not getting out of my pajamas for days. I need to connect with people. I need my friends. I isolated myself and it has made things so much worse for me. I will move in the right direction now. I will fortify myself and heal. Things will get better from here.

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