My season of rest lasted a little longer than I anticipated, however I let it happen naturally and attempted not to interfere. While it was good for my soul, it has not been good for my waistline. I had not been eating terribly (though not always so great), but mainly I hadn’t been moving my body. My ‘comfort cushion’ as I call it, only really bothers me for the fact that I’m not taking care of myself physically. And – okay, I’ll admit it – I don’t comfortably fit into jeans I was able to wear 6 months ago. It’s just 10 pounds, but I’ve definitely noticed it.

In June I started trying to take a daily walk. While I’m turning 40 here shortly, my body has been beat up from years of sports so I’m trying to take it easy on the old girl. My walks vary anywhere from 2.5-4.5 miles depending on the time I have and the temperature. I also downloaded the Couch to 5k app and got back into that with my first run/walk this evening.

It was refreshing as I started tonight to again realize that despite what the scale or my pants say, I have already lost weight – the toxic weight of a narcissistic, abusive ‘partner.’ I’m working out to increase my energy and happiness – not because I’m constantly being ridiculed for what I eat or how much I weigh. This workout is solely for me – not as defensive act to get another day of peace from that particular verbal/emotional attack.

I’m not training for anything. I’m not looking to be the next Beach Body model. I don’t even have a goal weight. I just want to feel good…and maybe not have to buy new pants (unless they are falling off). Those closest to me don’t care how much I weigh – they just want me to be happy. They like me for me, and they support me no matter what, and in whatever endeavor I take on. I see this as an unofficial Stage 2 of my healing and future – further taking care of myself inside and out.

I’m pulling my workout motto from the Beastie Boys song of the same title as this post – because it’s not only perfect, but I also have it stuck in my head:

We need body rockin’, not perfection

Two months ago, I lost my job. (I’m starting a new one on Wednesday, so it’s all good.) While at the time it felt like getting kicked while I was already way, way down, it ended up being exactly what I needed as the Universe stepped in and forced me to rest for once in my life.

Anyone in my industry knows that bouts of unemployment are a given at some point in your career. Clients move on, bosses and agency needs change, business fluctuates along with the economy – it happens. When you’re unemployed in the summer, there are a lot more opportunities to keep yourself busy alongside the job search: bike rides along the lake, crashing a friend’s pool, plenty of social opportunities as everyone is out and about. The dead of winter provides quite the opposite: the most you can bear being outside is a quick run to the grocery store, friends you haven’t seen since New Years celebrations are at home hibernating, the cold and gray seeps into your soul. Despite my efforts to keep busy and have some sort of daily project, I found myself with way too much time on my hands which meant slowly merging with my couch and resting…and thinking.

I’ve always been the ‘strong’ one – the pick up the mess and keep moving one. I’ve been able to be that way because I shove a lot of feelings, thoughts and experiences down into the filing cabinet of my brain in order to keep going. It’s a blessing and a curse. My filing cabinet was crammed full and the experiences I’ve had in the last 2 years have caused it to burst. I was no longer strong, I was just numb. I was fatigued. I was dissociating regularly. I certainly wasn’t healing. I felt like I was falling apart.

This period of rest (along with therapy and support from loved ones) has helped me to start to pick up the pieces of my filing cabinet explosion and address them each in turn. Giving them the attention and love that they deserve in order to clear room for new files. Instead of re-shoving those feelings and thoughts down, I’ve let them wash over me and I’ve attempted to engage in them with curiosity to help better understand and appreciate them. Am I always successful? Nope. Is it fun? Not in the slightest (for me at least). But I know that I need to provide myself with that self care – clear my slate so I can learn from it and know how to better handle things next time.

I know others in my life depend on me to be strong, and I need to continue to be strong for myself. However, I now know that part of my strength comes from taking care of myself and putting myself first – something I wasn’t doing for far too long.

I wasn’t going to tell my story just yet, however I realized that my story was the impetus behind the blog in the first place. So, while I’m not ready to go into great detail (and may never be), here goes nothing:

I met someone in late November, 2019 – we’ll call him Bob. We got to know each other throughout the holidays and into the New Year, and in early February ‘Bob’ and I had ‘the talk’ that led to an official relationship. March brought Covid and all of the changes that came with it – which we weathered together at his apartment.

In late May/early June, Bob announced that he had some money for a down payment and was thinking about buying a place – and would I like to move in with him? (Yes that was fast, but…Covid.) Before I knew it, we had found a place which he purchased and September 1st saw us officially moving in together.

Almost immediately I knew it was a mistake. It wasn’t all bad, but it wasn’t as good as it should have been. It didn’t feel like my home at all – I was merely there to be the caretaker. It felt transactional. I wasn’t happy – but I had upended my life to move in with him – what was I supposed to do? I chalked it up to a lot of the stress of moving and whatnot and hoped it would get better.

On Halloween we decided to sit out at the sidewalk, have a few drinks, hand out candy and be social with neighbors as they chaperoned their kids around the block. After traffic died down we went inside where the rest of the night was a blur. There are details I remember clearly and a lot that are very foggy – but something triggered him as we got ready for bed and for at least an hour I was subjected to verbal and emotional but mostly physical abuse in our bathroom.

When Bob ran out of steam, I was able to throw some things in a backpack and Uber to my friend’s house. I’ll never forget the look on her face as she took in mine – my swollen, black and blue, tear-stained face. When she asked what happened, all I could manage was ‘he hit me’ – as if it was anywhere close to the full reality of what I had just endured. The cops were called. A statement was made and evidence photos were taken, but when I was asked if I wanted to press charges or have him arrested, I declined. I was in shock. I wasn’t fully able to comprehend what had just happened to me.

I spent two weeks living/hiding in my friend’s basement like some sort of Quasimodo – watching the bruises on my face and body go from purple to that sickly yellow-green, and eventually start to fade away. Bob wanted me to come home. Was sorry. Didn’t know what happened. Etc. I said I would come home on two conditions: he got help (anger management and therapy) and the understanding that if he EVER touched me in anything other than a loving manner again, I would be calling the cops and pressing charges.

Things were okay for a while – the holidays were pleasant into the New Year, but then I didn’t see any action from Bob towards getting the help he promised. I asked about it innocently enough one afternoon and was sharply told that he ‘didn’t need to get help’ and there wasn’t anything wrong with him.

We had some good times, but mostly just existed until one day mid-April when we both must have gotten up on the wrong side of bed. We started the morning with a few arguments and a cloud settled over us for the remainder of the day. We spent the afternoon and evening apart from each other in the condo not speaking. When it was time for bed, Bob took his pillow and a blanket to the living room, but quickly decided that I was to be banished to the couch for the night instead. An argument ensued and in a moment of frustration, I tossed the ice tea from the glass I was holding into his face. As I turned away from him, he grabbed the glass and threw it at the back of my head, cutting it open. A short tussle followed.

True to my word, I called the cops. They arrived and upon seeing my head wound, they arrested Bob on the spot. I was taken to the hospital where I earned three staples in the back of my head. Again, a report was given and evidence photos were taken. I was told that Bob had to stay away from the condo for 72 hours after the incident so two days later my mom came to get me and whatever I could pack in her vehicle. I then moved my stuff into a storage unit and spent the summer at my mom’s where I attended Zoom court, worked remotely, and tried to figure out what to do next.

This past fall saw me back in the city into a great apartment with my two crazy kittens. I’ve been going to therapy and surrounding myself with great friends and working on my healing. It’s been a lot – and nothing I (nor anyone else) deserve. I know my experience isn’t even close to what many suffer on a daily basis, but it doesn’t make it any less real or unacceptable. As my therapist says: trauma isn’t a competitive sport.

If you or anyone you know is suffering from abuse, please get help: National Domestic Violence Hotline. 800.799.7233 https://www.thehotline.org/

I’m tired.

Emotionally. Physically. Mentally.

So tired.

But there’s nothing to do but keep pushing forward so that’s what I’m going to do. I’m embarking on a journey to find me. (Ugh, so cliche…) Okay fine, to find…something. Maybe let’s keep expectations low and hopefully be pleasantly surprised by any discoveries along the way, cool?

I will expand on this another time when I’m ready, but 2020 and 2021 were not banner years for me. I fully understand they were not kind to the populous of humanity with the global pandemic and all – bringing with it negative implications to people’s health, relationships, jobs, lives, etc. – but this is my story so we’re going to focus there. It’s not a competition – it’s simply my reality. Something happened that affected my life in various areas – my relationships, living situation, work, physical and mental health, and more.

Lately I feel like I keep taking more hits than wins and I’m looking to turn things around. I’m sharing my journey in the hopes that it might help others. Worst case, I’m talking through it – even if it’s just to myself.