No one likes the pal that is a giant rain-cloud, a Debbie Downer, and frankly, by the time we are in our 30's we kind of have this zone where we put our "in trauma" friends. I'm recently guilty of this, after having one too many friends crashing on the couch after a DV situation, a failed marriage, a lost job, etc. I was the safe spot for all the artist friends finding themselves, the girlfriends with black eyes or loser BF's, the coworkers that lost their jobs with me when it seemed like everyone was going out of business.

I just didn't need or want the chaos after a while, and that's okay. My career was going solid, I got a STEM-Y degree and wanted to clean up my act get a husband, kids and a picket fence.

The solution sounded ready made when I got back in touch with my first love. Right there. Stop.
I was not in a healthy spot in high school. My family is whacked. I was, frankly whacked until I got out from under their thumb. Any mental snapshot I had taken at that time was not while I had any understanding of anything mentally healthy. Normal people screamed at each other.

So here I am, in my 30's having slid into one of those relationships and situations that, to an outsider, would just sound crazy.
Like, WTF were you thinking?, as if it had happened overnight. It's definitely a frog in boiling water scenario, and I think the low has been hit.
I was in therapy for decades trying to overcome my crazy upbringing, and one would think that mistake after mistake would have made me wiser.

So, here I am in a strange city with no friends, no where to go and not even a bit of what happens to my own body any longer.

My low was being raped last night, by my fiancee in my sleep. So what, he said, I thought you were into it. Well, after having my ass torn apart and brutally beaten once I'm a bit touchy about consent.

I have this thing about violence in my home, since I grew up with it.
Now I'm surrounded by anger, verbal abuse, smashed dishes, fists punched in the wall next to me.

I can't even hide in the bedroom any longer without having my privacy invaded.
I'm taking Kolonipin and having panic attacks so bad I have to pull over my car because I can't see.
I'm getting yelled at, at work for not being home.
I can't even save enough money to leave.

I just dream about packing my car and saying goodbye but I can't even afford that.

I worked my whole life to escape this fate and here I am.