Don’t Look Down

I cannot say I understand why a person would choose to run with the bulls. I suppose it is a cultural value difference. I feel like I am running “with” the bulls every day. Among the galley of major life changes currently on display, I have been displaced from a home multiple times, recently worked with three different lawyers regarding three different legal matters, received a crash course in finance and real estate, and, most recently, am starting a new career while simultaneously going back to school, losing my car, and trying to find a more permanent living arrangement. Problems and issues and changes; oh my!

If you are out of breath just reading that sentence, my point is made. It is exacerbating living this way. I am in a constant state of sleep deprivation and stress. I do utilize various support systems to help keep me going, none of which include relying on blood “family,” and somehow I just keep on plowing through it all. Helmet on, head down, one arm out in front and the other clutching everything I hold dear in life; I run, jump, and spin through the day searching for that place I can collapse to the ground in victory. I can’t see it, but it’s out there ahead of me somewhere.

When I start running out of steam, after it all starts to weigh down a little heavier than it should; I try to steal a glance at the hoard chasing close behind me. I loose focus and momentum. Often I trip, struggling to maintain forward motion, and sometimes I’m tackled to a bone grinding halt by my own terrifying emotions. Gasping for air with tears streaming down my face; I can either get back up or dare to lie a few more moments before I’m crushed by the weight of my heart into oblivion.

I don’t even like to take the time to describe these moments of break down. They don’t last long anymore; mostly because they annoy me so badly. Also, I know I am flirting with death if I wallow in self pity and anger for too long. It’s a waste of energy anyways. But if I don’t at least acknowledge these moments, I’m setting myself up for a catastrophic meltdown. So here I am, processing, evaluating, and moving on. I’ll keep running past the edge of the cliff with the drive of the road runner and the warning of that coyote to not look down… Just don’t look down.

Unwelcome

Today my soon to be ex-husband and former abuser gets to “survey” the condo to compile a list of what he believes to be his. My stomach is in knots, and all I can feel at this point is anxiety. I will not be there when he is, but just knowing he will be in my home leaves me feeling violated. There’s no other way of putting it. He is an unwelcome stranger in the place I, for now, call home.

It’s hard to wrap my head around how I used to live with his person. It was misery every single day. I feel like an idiot for being in such deep denial for so long. I don’t even know who that person was anymore. I value myself, my life, and the people I love today. That other person, the person I used to be, lived in fear and constant anxiety. I lived under the control of an abusive narcissist. Isolated by a sociopath, I was too afraid to leave and too miserable to stay. Every second around that person had me tearing myself apart inside. I hated it.

I fought harder than I ever had to get free of that. My home is now my haven. My place of safety and love. A place I share with my partner and my son. A place where we learn and love and cook and laugh. It is not a place for him to be.

Yet here we are. The day has come, and I suspect many more uncomfortable days will follow. I will have to focus on taking care of myself and the people I love. I will try my best not to let this intrusion bother me. He may be able to briefly step into my home, but he may no longer step into my heart. He was banned from there many years ago. Now, it is a fortified place, where only genuine love can dwell.

Honestly, as I am thinking about this, my condo is just a place. My home is elsewhere. I really shouldn’t worry about it, and so I think I won’t.