And I actually don't believe in hate. But when I think too much and too deep...the inner me growls and screams "I hate him"
I'm not ready to dive into the depths of my traumatized experience. But I hate what he did...what I let be
The control. Trying, not with intent, but with propose of control, to hang himself. Not once but about 5x. Before I could get him down. Before I had to scream across rooms of the house not connected praying my daughter would hear me to help. My 16yr old daughter.
Heard. Came. Saw her dad hanging. My 12yo son came saw called 911.
And all of this bc my husband became so delusional he thought if he kept "threatening" to take his life I would admit to the lies in his head he thought were true
But..that's not the beginning. It was the end. This was after moments of torture. Making me believe I was safe than locking me in a room and attacking me. Me staying and taking it bc if I went anywhere else my kids suffered. Me doing things I wasn't proud of
I'm not perfect. I chose wrong paths. I misjudged. Did things if never do. Stayed when I should have left.
But that...not being able to cut him down..feeling his arms flop on my back..cutting my fingers open trying to cut him down...when I knew he didn't do it bc he wanted to die but to control me. And my kids seeing it. That was the switch flipping off.
And the aftermath...stay tuned
