BONUS POST: Happy LAST Anniversary…NOT… - The DV Walking Wounded:
I just celebrated my “anti anniversary” on February 13th. Would’ve been 32 years, but I feel as though he would’ve “unalived” me before this point—-had I taken him back last time. Thankfully I was done. That in itself saved my life. My life is infinitely better than it ever was while married!
While scrolling on Facebook, I saw the best post that embodied exactly how I felt. The post was by Holli Smith Thompson, entitled “Happy LAST Anniversary.” She gave me permission to reprint it here:
Happy LAST anniversary.
I gave you my love, my trust, my entire heart, believing we were pure, building an unbreakable future.
I stood by you through storms, through your psychopathic illnesses, but in the end, you shattered me. On purpose. And I “ran… like a girl.”
I told you I was suffering. Showed you the scars only you could cause or heal.
But instead of showing any remorse or comfort, you paid to cheat, had affairs, lied repeatedly, Machiavellian plotted against me, and abused me horrifically while sadistically making me believe I was the problem so Id lose myself trying to please you, as you lied to Drs, the law, my family, friends, people from my church and even the neighbors behind my back from before I ever uttered those awful words “I Do.”
You knew my fears, my insecurities,
you learned them all strickly so you’d know how to torture me, as I stupidly fought for us. Telling myself if I only just gave more and more of myself in anyway you asked of me, you’d go back to who came 1200 miles for me.
You gave yourself and our money to countless other males and females for what is meant for marriage all because you hide who you are. And, neglected my very basic needs in the process leaving me stranded until I almost died many times. Putting motion sensors so Id be stuck in the bedroom waiting for texts I was “allowed to leave.. to grind you coffee beans, fresh” and go back to the 51 degree bedroom, temp controlled by your phone. I wish nothing good for you. Ever.
I am here, exposed to everyone ,
Painted as the woman who should just “move on.” Saying I’m “dramatic” that I should “forgive you” — “be quiet”. “We dont talk about SA” “Id have never put up with that” “why didnt you just leave”
That love is supposed to mean looking past indescribable pain and terror.
Where was love when I needed honesty? When I was hiding who you are, trying to make you look good? Where was love when I cried myself to sleep after repeated SA?
Where was love when you looked into my eyes as you betrayed me? Brutally. Cruely. Cowardly. Repeatedly. Lying to every law official you opened your mouth to. And, still do in this godforsaken post separation abuse from he|| that only becomes more terrifying and unsurvivable.
You say I’m playing a victim, that I’m making you out to be a villain.
But the truth is… I was never acting.
I am just your wife who loved you too much,
And you were the ‘man’ who hunted me, then set me up as you groomed my daughter, then destroyed my world from the inside out. It doesn’t matter the secret warrant charges didnt stick, Im traumatized by being stuck in that solitary he|| on the ground as they figured it out. How in the he|| does your attempted murder charge attempt end up after 39 days of torture in jail end up a scratch on your nose from me fighting you off? You are an absolute animal. The truth will come out in the end. It always does. God promises that. I forgive the police, they were manipulated by you. I do not forgive, you.
I do not want to be your wife. You make me sick in every way possible. I loathe you. Im done posting for help as well. Or, posting about you. There are only a few ppl on earth who understand this, so its pointless. You are far too calculated. Congratulations.
I run like a girl 💯 You better believe it. You gave me no other choice. Thanks for the night terrors and education in dark psychology that I wish I didn’t understand. You were not joking about the legions of demons one bit. The one time you were ever honest and it was about that of all things. In writing. 🙄 Goodbye Rod