me for leaving him when he was never there in the first place, except when he wanted sex. For how cold and unkind he was to me 90 of the time. A kiss I immediately told him about, and he, surprisingly, instantly forgave. He was obsessed with celebrity, being famous, famous people. For the long-lasting trauma, physical and emotional. For the time I was screamed at for spilling some bottled water in a rental car. I was expected to be ready for him when he came home from work. My mother never forgot. Admittedly, theres still an anger inside. I lost 15 lbs within weeks, started pulling out my hair (and had to get extensions regularly to hide it).
Then, after my recovery, he and my mother were greeted by the doctor. I ceased. Im feeling really sick. Here is my answer: I believed that, to the taming of the shrew marriage essay borrow an analogy from a friend, if I kept digging I would find water. Im still recovering from being sexually used (not in a super fun way) for three years. And she did, because by the time theyd realized she was an unreliable source the damage had already been done. An anger at him, an anger at myself for letting myself fall into the trap and being nave enough to stay there. And sometimes I did. Im here to tell my story, not necessarily intending to point my finger at the man who did it (though that may be an unfortunate consequence for him but for a different reason. Its so easy to make judgments about someone you dont know personally, or maybe do know personally, but not well.
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