He tried again. Keeps texting. Asking if I'm dead or alive. I wish he was gone.
As I'm still unpacking everything, I keep remembering little convos. Like the time he said he should have never married a white woman but instead someone like me. Or that time he told me he wish we had went to high school together. or that other time I was telling him that once I figured out what I want to do with my life. I'm moving to one of the coasts or to Austin (only to Dallas if I'm desperate which made him laugh). I keep reaching for meaning but ultimately cannot find one.
I'm still jumpy. My heart races and my breathing becomes labored every time the bell rings or there is a knock on the door. Sometimes I think I may just tase someone when I answer without checking to see if it is him or not at the door.
I thought I saw his truck while I was baking Saturday but convinced myself it was a neighbor's truck. I park in the garage on my days off to make it look like I'm not at home.
Because of problems with family, I don't feel confident that I will receive support. I tear up at the mere thought of having to tell either one of my Dads that I was assaulted. It's something I am hoping to avoid. my brother might care but then again we was raised by a woman who kept emotions to herself unless she wanted to lash out at me for whatever I was doing.
I didn't tell anyone but I actually went to a survivors' group type thing then promptly walked out. I was not and I'm still not ready to say it out loud to other people I'm not familiar.