Yesterday should have been just another Monday. But for me, it became a mountain I wasn’t prepared to climb.
After five months of silence – five months of feeling like I was finally breathing again – the peace was shattered the evening before. A notification from an anonymous profile. A message from my abuser. He acted as if the trauma he caused never happened, casual and flippant, suggesting we “catch up” because it’s a “new year and all that shizz.”
He even acknowledged he was blocked. He knew the boundary was there, and he stepped over it anyway.
The Illusion of the “Quiet Period”
I realized something devastating yesterday: He didn’t stay away because he was sorry. He stayed away because he was scared of the police. The moment he felt the legal shadow lift, he was back.
I withdrew my statement late last year because I wanted to be free. I didn’t want to live in the past or spend months reliving the worst moments of my life for a verdict. I chose my mental health. To have that choice met with this level of entitlement is infuriating. Why do these men feel they have the right to orbit our lives whenever they please?
The Reality of the Aftershock
Yesterday, I wasn’t “fine.”
- I cried in front of my friends.
- I cried in front of my colleagues.
- I had to call my doctor to discuss anxiety medication.
- I had to arrange counseling through work.
I am drained. I am scared. And because of a hurt ankle, I can’t even use a walk to clear my head. I feel trapped in my own home, the one place I should feel safest.
Reclaiming the Walls
If you are reading this and you feel alone, please know that I feel it too. But I am taking the steps to build my walls back up, higher this time:
- Reporting: I have gone back to the authorities. Silence protects the abuser; noise protects the victim.
- Disappearing: I have deactivated my social media. It feels like losing a connection to the world, but right now, my safety is the only priority.
- Support: I am leaning on the professionals. There is no shame in needing medicine or a therapist to help carry a weight this heavy.
To the men who do this: You do not have the right to our time, our space, or our peace. The mountain might be steep today, but it is mine to climb. And I am not looking back.