I’m closing the chapter finally, almost a year later. I had to escape, and I’ve been hiding for 289 days. Here are some words from this journey, my journey. The beginning was just as torturous as the middle and the end. I used I have regrets, I sometimes look back at things, and I wish I could go back and punch myself in the face, but I would’ve done the same thing. I had to live it and feel it for myself. This is my story, relationship recovery.

That was the moment,

Right there, the final gunshot. No one else could hear. Only me. My reaction hasn’t been. I like usual put that pain in a huge compartment and tried with all my might to shove it as far back in our dysfunctional closet as possible. I could never make it disappear it creeps up almost every day. I never want to deal with the fallout of my decision to not look, so I kept not looking.  The single-barrel shotgun the one that shoots the bullet no one can hear except me. I feel the burden and I feel the gaping wound that keeps getting blown open every day. And now, the pain. I let it wash over me, I let it consume me as it should have a year ago. Now, where was the feeling of holding on with all my might, the ride or die that was so easily given and taken? White knuckling at the helm of this sinking ship. I finally felt that bullet today, the one from the single-barrel shotgun no one can hear but me. When I braced myself for the pain that was sure to ensue as it should have a year ago. After a minute or two of bracing, I felt the sadder and more painful part of that gunshot. Nothing. There is absolutely nothing there. I have flatlined and I don’t want to revive this truth. It’s done I’m done. Time of death unknown, cause self-harm.

Turn the page.