Hidden Shell

It’s been months since I last posted.

A suicide attempt.

Living a dream with him, everything perfection for some time. Until it wasn’t.

I just reread my words about how maybe since it wasn’t physical abuse it wasn’t really that bad.

Then, suddenly it was physical abuse. And now here I am, about to begin the hardest journey of my life.

I’m still processing, grieving, trying to be strong. Trying to be safe.

I have to make it for my children.

I remind myself more times a day than I care to count that I have to think as a Mother, and not with my heart. Love doesn’t matter when someone threatens to kill your children. Love WOULDN’T threaten to kill your children. Your family.

I remind myself that I can’t think of what were the good times. That it was all an act. That was the face put forward to make me fall, and never walk away no matter what happened.

The truth is, that if he hadn’t made that threat, if he had been the slightest bit sorry for what he did to me instead of telling me that his only regret was that he didn’t kill me, I probably still wouldn’t be where I am now.

But I have to remind myself of that. Of his words. Of his lack of remorse. Of my promise to friends and family that this was the end. That I would stay out.

I have to remind myself that I can love him, and not go back. I can love him, but if I stay silent like those before me then there will be more after me. If I stay silent, my kids may not have a Mother in the end, or even worse, they may not be here either.

I must think as a Mother, and not a as woman who loves a man.