my careless contagion

It took most of my life to see the woman who destroyed me for who she really was. Maybe someone thought it was an over-reaction to move away. I won't get into the prayer and testing that went into that decision over several months. It wasn't predicated on one thing, and I made it clear to God what I wanted, but He allowed doors to close and opened only one, so here I am. I will come across others like the one who hurt me in a deadly way, but facts like this show how important it is to seal those poisonous people off forever and never speak to them or come across them again . They are literally spiritual vampires. I believe the nature of our relationship and how it was ended was so poisonous, it was literally killing me to stay there. The funny thing is, I knew we were trauma bonding early on, even saying so. It felt good to leave that darkness behind, otherwise it would wear at me every day and constantly fatigue my immune system.  If anyone was concerned about my health, the b...

Funny thing about the last post is Blogger (Google) flagged it for having triggering content. I'm sorry if anyone was disturbed by reading about my life. And I'm sorry for breathing out trauma inflicted upon me. Sorry reading about my life could be traumatizing to someone. Imagine what it was like to live it. This is not an apology. My life and my reactions will never be an apology to those who hated me enough to harm me. Seeking to understand what happened was a level of kindness most do not possess and which I continually displayed.  It's one thing to get away from a toxic person. It's another thing to get the poison out they put in you. Trauma is stored in our bodies. We carry it with us, unless we separate it from ourselves — dispatching it with precision — or venting, lancing it like a boil. But the root must be destroyed so it doesn't regenerate. Forgiveness kills the root, but the rest has to be bled out. No, I don't want the gym. It's air conditioned...

Maybe you were curious what happened to the guy who had his heart destroyed. Maybe you thought he was a pussy for crashing out over the biggest disappointment of his life. Maybe you never knew the backstory. Wandering through Gatsby’s abandoned mansion, you wondered what transpired. Maybe you just stumbled in. In any case, you’re here. [Could have split into two posts. To save space, I refer to my ex-wife as K and the woman I fell in love with after divorce as C.] There’s a scene in the movie Drive where a bad guy calmly slits a man’s wrist (the right way — the long way) and tells him to sit down, be calm, because, “It’s done, it’s over, there’s no pain.” That’s how I imagined C ending things. I held out my hand for a friendly goodbye handshake, and she slit my wrist cooly, as if it was her duty. But, it wasn’t over, and there was pain. I sat down, bleeding. I’m still here, and it still hurts.   I hate when people experience a small disruption and attach to it spiritual significanc...