Dear fellow t-shirt wearers, another night gone. Abdo still tender and spasming occasionally so may reluctantly drag myself to dr. Slept ok though, dosed up with buscopan and co-codamol.
One if the worst things about all this? I kept believing his lies, his good intentions. My mind was divided. Half of me so, so wanted us to "start again". New wedding rings, a new beginning, all the things we'd do to mend things. These were all his ideas. He knew the right buttons to press, to keep me hanging on, hopeful, to the last.
The other part of my brain, the rational, intelligent part, kept saying things like " best predictor of future behaviour is past behaviour" or " have some self respect, he's treated you like you're subhuman". "He's an abuser, fgs, he won't change".
Why, why, did the emotional brain keep convincing me to hang on, hope for the best? I will be having therapy to address this issue, before I find a new abuser to trust.
Rant temporarily over.