The rush

I woke up this morning like any other morning feeling the need for coffee.

But the rush wasn’t from coffee.

I started watching this documentary called Killer Sally.

She was in an abusive relationship where from the outside no one knew. No one suspected outside of one person she confided in.

The man was likeable. She did everything she good to try and please him according to her words.

He would even force her to have sex that way he felt like she forgave him for the abuse she endured.

Even when she didn’t want him touching her, he did.

I can so relate to all of this.

She ended up killing him. She said she feared him at the moment she pulled the trigger.

This rush just came over me as I’m hearing all of this.

The multiple times I tried what I felt was enough to end my abusers life.

I tried! I wanted out!

Scared as hell I felt the only way out was the end his life before he ended mine.

I just knew one day he would end my life and didn’t know what that meant for my children.

I just wanted out. I didn’t want to live in fear anymore. To hide, the live what I felt was a life of shame because how he made me feel.

Somehow he made me feel like it was always my fault and whatever he did I brought it on.

I look back now and remember one time he had been cheating on me and I knew it. He was with the chic in another part of out neighborhood. He had spent the night.

The next morning he came home.

I had the doors locked and he kept trying to get me to let him in.

I wouldn’t give in.

He kept telling me over and over to let him in.

I knew if he was able to get in i was getting my ass beat. I knew the anger was getting more intense. I could hear it and feel it.

I never knew when he’s beating me was it going to be the moment, the end.

My desperation grew to the point I ended up letting him in and knew I was about to get beat.

Inside I felt this sense of regret, sense of guilt for making him mad.

Saying to myself this isy fault. If I’d just “behave” maybe he wouldn’t get mad and I wouldn’t get beat.

At the same time my desperation grew, day after day it manifested into thoughts of what can I do to get out of this alive.

I just knew there would come a day when he would beat me to a point of no return. That he would maim me and feel the need to kill me as a way to cover it up.

The intense desperation just grew.

Every time he made me had sex I learned to separate my feelings on the inside and learned how to not show them on the outside.

As I sit hear listening to her story my heart is racing.

The memories…

The desperation…

You’re in fight or flight mode with no where to go.

Do you know what that’s like?

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