The Disappearing Woman?

No, I'm still here. Literally, still here. Still with the dickwad. Still trying to figure it all out.

I put a pause on this blog because, because... because of the wonderful things he does? Ha. Not a chance. That's not to say there hasn't been nice stuff in the past six months. Of course there has. Moments of generosity. A laugh here and there. An honour shared. But the nice stuff has merely been made nicer by scarcity. Angst remains the backdrop to my days, walking on eggshells in my Valentino Rock-Studs, hoping to hell I don't break a heel.

The real reason I stopped writing was self-preservation. And I don't mean a fear of the dickwad finding out. I stopped writing because I didn't want to trap myself in a spiral of negativity by drumming home the damage with every word typed. I instead decided to put my time and talent to more positive pursuits. I even started to eek out notes for a novel - a love story, no less! Something to make me smile inside and remind me of what life might be like without depending on a dickwad for my daily bread.

And then came the fight. And the discoveries. And the really good therapist and the anti-depressants and the rekindled determination to get the fuck out.

#dependence #therapy