well...not really, seeing as though most of this junk will dig up old wounds, but it's a new blog. that counts. i took a break from writing for a while because, in all honesty, i didn't want to relive the scary parts by writing them down and experiencing them all over again. i'm of the stubborn mold and tend to wish things away and pretend they don't exist. the definition of a mature adult, i know. but, i know that writing helps me. i know that it gets things off my chest. i know that, even though i may sob like a baby while typing, at least i'm not a blubbering idiot when talking to another person.
i handle stress extremely well. those that know me can tell you that statement was an absolute lie. i shut down, box it up, pretend i don't have to face it, then lose my shit when it all comes pouring out against my will. again, those closest to me can tell you that last part was an understatement as i turn into a snarky, nasty mega-beast. it's not a quality i admire in myself - one reason for therapy! so, here i go again with ripping the wounds open, letting the poison flow out, and allowing myself to feel the pain and actually attempt to work through it. brutal truth. complete honesty.
how about we start with labels. let's see...last time i went to my shrink, my chart read the following: post-traumatic stress disorder, social anxiety disorder with agoraphobic tendencies, depression, sleep disorder, attention deficit disorder, and total whack-job. i'm on meds and see a counselor. i like the counselor approach more, but do realize that, at this time, i need the meds to help. the anxiety gets me the most. i fidget like no tomorrow without even realizing it. the only time i notice is when my hands start hurting or my mother finally has enough of it and tells me to stop. yup, have meds for that too.
i suppose i chose today to start writing again because tomorrow is already making me geek out. a meeting with the assistant district attorney and the investigator concerning the upcoming bond appeal hearing. most know the story. some don't. the long and short of it: jaxon's bio dad personifies satan himself and spent years abusing me. no one knew. i didn't tell. i didn't want to tell. i wanted it to work. i tried to make it work. i was spineless and bent to his every command. having jaxon also gave me a backbone. september 2009 was when that backbone helped me see the truth and vow to never let jaxon experience what i did or witness it. that was when phil kicked in doors, ripped jaxon from my arms, pushed me down the stairs, and did his thing to put me back in my place. i was able to get jaxon back, barricaded ourselves in the nursery, and hide in the closet. the yelling continued, guns were cocked, threats were made. a text to my dad had the cops there not a moment too soon. that was the end of whatever "us" i had been pretending to have for years.
there is so much more that happened along the way, but i have to write this in short parts because even typing this, my hands are shaking. today, jamie is all jaxon knows as daddy. i never asked jamie to be jaxon's father nor expect him to be...he just stepped in and did it. no question, he is an amazing father. someone who literally gave up all of his material possessions to gain primary custody of his daughter is a father who truly has his priorities in check. he didn't have to be jaxon's dad. he could have simply been "jamie" and nothing more. that's not him. i am thankful for the relationship he and jaxon have everyday. we were planning to move forward with step-parent adoption until "it" happened.
"it" is what brings me to my current state of freaking out. phil is currently in jail. he has been indicted on kidnapping and two felony aggravated assault charges. the meeting tomorrow is to go over the case and, most likely, have to talk about my history with phil. i think what is upsetting me the most is that my parents, while i am so glad they will be with me, have to hear things. things they never knew happened. things i hid, lied about, and covered up. i pray that the judge denies bond. with every fiber in my body i believe that if phil is released, i am dead. not figuratively. not being dramatic. dead. he has never had to face punishment or jail time for the crimes and pain he has inflicted on others. and i'm not the only one who was pummeled by the evil that lives in him. he's always been so smooth and perhaps one of the world's best liars. he always walked away. i can't imagine his anger towards me at this point. he has been in jail since the end of january. it took the fugitive task force and u.s. marshals over a month to find him. "it" happened on december 11. phil says he's never done anything to me. my word against his. god help me.
until next time...
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