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[personal profile] nissaayen
 I've got terrible TMJ this week. I wanna smoke all the pot, and take vicoden and a xanax for good measure i cant of course but i want to. I posted about it on Facebook and out of the blue the dream doctor messaged me. Talking about his experiences with tmj and his semi recent admission to himself that he had PTSD.

We got to talking about Nebraska and why I'd never live there again. Mostly because the people who knew me from there cant really ever know me now and the nemisis. That the memories were too strong and i really cant live anywhere within 500 miles of where the nemisis lives. Even today i dont know that faced with him i could tell him no or manage to hold anger in me around him. I still fear id be the meek obedient mouse he made me.

Except he didn't know about the nemisis. I've always been good about keeping my history of abuse away from my people. Bad things might have happened and ie feel guilty like i was lying. Or nothing would have happened and id feel unloved and unprotected. When i said that he never met the nemisis the dream doctor responded that was a good thing.

I expect when i casually admit ive been in an abusive relationship the people i tell imagine lifetime movies and bruises that need to be hidden. To me, it was so much worse. I ddint know i was being abused. Fool that i am i thought he was helping me, guiding me and i was so lost.  I dont suppose i could ever explain why it was so bad but he was a master of taking my past and my insecurities and leading me around by them. He'd drive me into a panic attack and drop me a block from home... he raped me.. a lot he forced me to do drugs i disnt want to do. And i was so obsessed about him. 

When he left me id cry and scream over the phone. I was hopeless and inconsolable. There was nothing i could do alone but i had to.

I remeber the last time vividly. He'd come to omaha to see a concert and he stayed at my house. I let him use me because i still wanted him.. needed him but then i slept in the living room on my couch.  I had to draw a line and it was thin and shakey but it was mine. He called to me from the bedroom.. my comfy bed where he'd fucked me not to long ago and id ignored him and went to sleep.

Even now sometimes i miss him.  And then i immediately feel ashamed.

The memories are here today though. My pain is hovering around a 7. Its been a rough ride.
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