I've had this post of photographs sitting in drafts for days now... unable to really put into words much of what's happening in my life. It's frustrating to feel like I'm living in this state of online dishonesty. Last night I was with a good friend who was relating my separation with Jamie to that of someone she knew in the 90's. The major difference is that we have such detailed and interconnected online lives now. When her friend left her partner, she simply left and started anew.
What I write here is undoubtedly read by Jamie, and to be honest he's completely volatile right now. I feel like I can't share many of the beautiful things that have happened in the past month because he'll read about them and react (more) violently (than he already is.) I'm afraid he'll find me. I'm afraid he'll hurt himself or someone else. That feels utterly unfair because this blog has been such a cornerstone of my life for so many years. It feels unfair to say this without giving context for why I feel afraid, and yet it would feel unfair to expose that darkness while he's clearly so sick. I don't know how better to diplomatically phrase that, and I'm frustrated with skirting around with words. I tried to protect him for longer than I needed to and ended up sacrificing much of my mental well-being. It's becoming increasingly clear how traumatized I still am by his behavior.
So here... this is the hard truth so maybe you can understand why I have to be ambiguous and why I'm struggling to transition my new experiences in life into this blog space. (I certainly hope that someday I can be entirely forthcoming...) Jamie was verbally and physically abusive towards me so I finally left. For years I hid this, from myself even. I made excuses. All of the classic ones. And leaving was the hardest thing I've ever done, but once it was real it was an incredible feeling. I've been reconnecting with myself and uncovering the illusions I had been living. One thought that I've wanted to write about is beauty. My life was absolutely gorgeous and amazing in so many ways. You saw it! It was (and still is, just in a new way) completely picturesque! I realize now that much of the reason I found it so easy to stay was because of how strongly I wanted to hold onto that beauty. I clung to it because it was a beacon of my sanity. It was my meditation, my hope for the future, proof that what I was living was real in at least some aspect.
Don't think I regret anything that I did. I needed to stay for as long as I did. I really did try to help him. But I've moved on now, and although there are moments of palpably remembering the darkness and fear, I am a million times happier. I'm so thankful for those of you who have stuck around during this transition. I feel strongly that I should keep posting here. I miss your friendships. I miss the regularity of posting. I miss the routine of documenting life in an organized forum.