I think about you when I put on socks.
But that’s an improvement.
Because I used to think about you any time someone moved their hands too fast,
Or when they spoke loudly…
Or angrily.
I used to think about you every single time I made a mistake.
I could literally hear venom each time I screwed up as your voice echoed “Fuck up” in my brain.
I used to think about you when people pushed me to do things I didn’t want to do.
Or when people were aggressive.
I lived in fear for a very long time that assertiveness and aggressiveness equaled violence, so when people spoke too boldly…I’d tremble and cower.
I used to think about you during Domestic Violence month…and how you made me a statistic. Well, I suppose I can’t lie about that…I still do.
But, I think about you less and less and, when I do think about you, it no longer makes me taste bile.
I can now think of you…hear your name and think about the things you said and did…and I’m not scared.
I’m not anxious.
Thoughts of you have lost their power over me. I think of you in passing, like a mental note to take out the trash in the morning. Reminders of you are chores now…nothing more.
When I walked away, I took with me the terror of our relationship and the promises you painted, of marriage and babies and cutting me up into little pieces after blowing up my car.
But, there was one other thing you left behind…a pair of socks.
I threw them out recently - even though they were a good pair of socks - hoping to break myself of that one last reminder…but it hasn’t worked yet.
So…I still think about you when I put on socks…
…but I’m incredibly grateful for the improvement.
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