It has been more than a year since my last post. More than a year since I felt the need to write about all of this. More than a year since our last "incident". It feels really strange to be able to say that. When you are in the middle of something so horrible, it feels like your entire existence will be wrapped up in fighting against awfulness. To have come out the other end feels good... but it is still hard to trust that feeling.
Lately, I have started to have nightmares that The Man is straying again. Old anxieties and insecurities are truly crappy bedfellows. For now, I am willing to believe that these feelings are nothing more than the machinations of sleep deprivation and body image anxiety. Becoming a mother (again) is a wonderful thing, but it makes serious modifications to your body. Once the glow of "I just made a person IN MY BODY" wears off, you are left with the reality of a soft tummy and a closet full of clothing that you cannot fit into or nurse in. This time is hard, but it passes. I am doing my best to acknowledge the truth of where I am and to not allow my mind to create fear out of shadows.
So, in case you were wondering, I am still here. Still fighting for my family. Still healing. It's a process.
