I finely feel safe.

It’s weird. I feel safe. After all this time, I’ve got tears of joy running down my face and I feel happy like a weight was lifted off my shoulders. I finally feel safe.

I hate doing relationship autopsies but this case it’s needed. I said goodbye and this time I feel free. I am free. And it’s because I feel safe. I couldn’t express this before. I didn’t know this feeling. I’ve been puzzling over it and I’m sure this is what safe feels like. Yeah, I feel safe.

It’s only recently I learned that each time I run, he deletes everything. So my address, my phone number, my emails, all gone, deleted. He has only one way to reach online and that’s it. He can’t find me. He can’t show up at my home. I’m beyond his reach now. I feel free and safe.

Weird right? I don’t know if it was a mind fuck gone wrong or what. Maybe it’s something left over from PTSD, I just don’t know. I’m working on figuring it out. I had to get strong enough to break a promise. I rarely make promises and all he’s ever seen of me is a string of broken promises. But I broke this one and I’m good with that. I made peace with myself over it. It stings and it will forever. It’s not something to forget. But I made my peace.

Early days, he wanted me to move in with him. There was a lot of talk, even of coming up to grab me and no one knowing what happened to me. I know that set in the terror. It scarred me. I ran then too. But I went back. I just didn’t know how deeply it scared me. All my life I’ve dealt with those kinds of emotions. For me they are normal. Or well they were normal.

I kept going back. Fighting my fears, fighting my reluctance and fighting him too. I tried to express that something was wrong but I never had a good grip on what it was. So I couldn’t say it like I’m doing now.

Even with the pee penny, my body had to teach me what I was feeling. I was supposed to put a penny in the toilet every time I peed, then fish it out. Okay, I can do that. I don’t get the squrrmies over it. I’m a mom, I cloth diapered my kids and hand-washed them. They had sensitive bottoms! So pee and poo don’t both me. My toilet stayed super clean. I switched to my non-dominant hand once I started wearing contacts again. But then my body learned to always poo when I pee. No longer was I fishing out a penny. And that had us going WTF? Why did that change?

Why was I resistant? If he let up, I’d backslide every time. You could count on it. Without him cracking the whip, things got much worse before they got better. It became the pattern. I hated it. This time, I knew my stuff was deleted. This time he left me not knowing if he’d ever be back. On one hand, it hurt like hell and on the other it was like okay fuck it, what are we going to do now? And I found I refused to do anything for him. So my life is going to shit. Fuck that shit, fuck that all to hell. My life, I’m doing it for me.

That’s what I needed. I started to chase my happy. Which also coincided with massive masturbation sessions. Nothing like a good daily pick-me-up to put a smile on your face.

I still had to face him, tell him. Didn’t want him wasting money on something I just won’t do. I gave up long ago trying to explain my problem. I gave up trying to figure it out. It was either him or me that was the problem. And it turns out, it was me after all. I didn’t have a lot of words for him. If I said more, he’d find a way to back me down and I’d collapse in again. If I’d said more, he’d poke holes all in it and I’d feel stupid for even attempting to be heard. If I said more, it would turn into an argument that does no one any good. If I said more, I’d bend and back off, back down, say I’m sorry and I’d still be there.

It’s odd. I think he might have guessed what the problem was. He mentioned a whole thing about ‘if I ever felt trapped, it was done’ as in over. Oddly that terrified me ever more as I often felt trapped. So I set to work on redefining that emotion. Still felt it.

But I walked. He was kind to me. Far kinder than I expected. I admit I cried. That kindness I had not felt from him and only feel when it’s over? It hurt and pissed me off even as I appreciated it. I had not known how much I really needed kindness shown to me. And in the after, this feeling, this amazing feeling is what it is to feel safe. I had never known what that feeling was before. Now I know what it is.

And I have him to thank for that. Thank you.


About Isabella LeCour

She is nothing more than the collections of thoughts placed into the virtual worlds. She is a poet, a mother, a lover, many things to different people. But mostly, she is nothing but smoke and mirrors - some ethereal thing that blinks in an out of existence.
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2 Responses to I finely feel safe.

  1. Stormwise says:

    There is a special kind of safety that only freedom can offer. Whether that freedom means solo, or you find that freedom in a relationship with the rare kind of person who can offer something like that, depends on your luck I think. The worst feeling I’ve ever had in a relationship is that of feeling trapped. Oh, even in ‘good’ relationships in the past, I didn’t really feel free; but trapped I only felt in a few relationships … they were the ones I wound up being most thankful for having escaped.

    My life, I’m doing it for me.” … a lot of people are afraid to say something like this, especially out loud, for fear that it is too ego-centric. I see it differently: at my best and strongest, I’m most capable of being there for others. At my weakest, I’m not able to offer nearly as much. You have to see to yourself, you have to see to your needs – right down to the daily pick-me-up you describe your massive masturbation sessions as being! I’m happy for anyone who has the strength to walk away from a feeling of being trapped … a lot of times, the prison becomes its own sort of warped comfort zone, it becomes what we know, and the freedom outside becomes the unknown. I recently had to deal with this in my own life and the papers are being processed in the divorce court as I write this. Cheers, and I wish you the best of luck!

  2. Best wishes, Isabella!

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