Absorbing the Knowledge

After being discarded abruptly by my therapist last May, I’ve made a choice not to start all over again with another one. I know that perhaps I’m being stubborn, but think of it this way…I saw my first one at the age of 9. (A long time ago when unicorns still roamed the earth.) I have had so many of them over the years, so many that I cannot even remember most of their names anymore.

But, I have absorbed the knowledge that I was given.


It’s true, knowledge is power.

I bought myself a book called “Healing from Hidden Abuse: A Journey Through the Stages of Recovery from Psychological Abuse” by Shannon Thomas LCSW. I started reading it last night after my boyfriend went home for the evening and I’m super excited to get back to it as soon as I can.

Because I was being psychologically abused for almost 15 years and I didn’t even know it!

Here’s a part of the bio:

The cryptic nature of psychological abuse involves repetitious mind games played by one individual or a group of people.

Psychological abuse leaves no bruises. There are no broken bones. There are no holes in the walls. The bruises, brokenness, and holes are held tightly within the target of the abuse.

That is a hard nugget of truth to swallow, my friends.

Here, I thought I knew what it was to be a survivor of domestic abuse with my daughters father. He was the aggressive type and didn’t give a fig who knew it. He was a blatant, full spectrum abuser.

But asshat was sneaky. He appeared on the surface as a decent enough guy who had some issues and of course I wanted to fix him.

The narcissist targets the empath because they have the qualities that they themselves lack, such as gentleness, kindness, compassion…they tolerate an epic amount of bullshit.

The empath wants to soothe the poor, lost narcissistic beast because that’s what they do. Sadly, the un-awakened ones (which I was for so long) have no idea what a boundary is or how to use them.

The narcissist takes advantage of the empath for as long as they can get away with, until the mask starts to crumble to the ground and the empath finally starts to get wise.

I am so grateful. I’d love to send the 3 woman who sent me the info on what asshat was doing flowers and a thank you card.

(Infidelity is abuse, by the way.)

And you know something? I am damn proud of myself. I don’t care what anyone else thinks about me, kicking that sad sack of poison out was one of the hardest things that I have ever had to follow through with.

My lovely mother sent me this yesterday.


It may seem silly to some people, but I honestly believe that things happen for a reason, although we’re given different options in life, much like those choose your own adventure books from back in the day.

If I had just allowed asshat to get away with dabbling his dong where it didn’t belong, I would still be miserable and living a lie. But I decided to take that scary, dark, lonely plunge and face the sickening, devastating truth instead.

Sometimes the bitter can eventually take us to the sweet.


I Am Not Broken

I’d taken to telling everyone and thinking of myself as a broken doll that needed super glue (the mega pricey kind) to fix.

I’d say to my boyfriend, hey honey, I’m broken and basically worthless now, so how could you love someone like me?

I received two gentle ear tugs for that.

Going through life with this sort of thinking is fucking miserable.

Then I realized after much thought, solitude and reading about trauma (especially of the domestic abuse kind) that what I was actually in need of was spiritual and emotional healing.


The people who hurt me, those are the ones who need fixing, not me.

Because I am not broken.

Repeat that to yourself if you feel the desire.

I Am Not Broken.

I’m doubtful that anyone would willfully go into an abusive relationship, but once you find yourself stuck in one (and don’t even realize it!) it’s sincerely fucking difficult to find your way out.

I had honed my survival skills in order to function and then out of nowhere, I got hit with a life-changing whammy. The man who had sworn to love and protect me was a lying, cheating sack of perverted shit and I had been totally duped.

My bad.

My wounds will heal and scar over. Because I’m human, I will periodically pick at them.

He had done his best to do me harm and destroy me, but you see, it is he who is the broken one, for only the truly fractured purposely hurt the ones that they claim to love.

I’m not on any sort of high horse. I realize that this process of healing will be time-consuming and there’s an excellent chance that my wounds will often become infected.

But I’m hellbent on changing my perspective.