This is the beginning of me sharing my "experience"

 Something major happened tonight. Something that I've waited 5 years for. Something life changing.



I usually don't get too personal on my blog. I try to avoid that, but I find this a good reason to do so. Some of you know about my "experience" but, it's rare that I am able to talk about it. I just recently started sharing with others, this "experience." For the past 5 years, only my closest loved ones know. This past year I started sharing a little about it online to others that may find hope, help, insight, etc. in my "experience." That is the main reason I'm sharing this here. Right here. On my blog. In the open. For everyone to see. Scary. I'll make it as short and un-detailed as possible.

 *This is only a piece of what I plan to share. This is a few thoughts. I will leave you to ponder this and I will post the rest tomorrow. Each part is necessary to the other. I hope you'll come back to read.*




 He told me for months he wanted to kill him. I did too. We made a plan, every tiny detail was perfect. It scared me. I told my mom that I couldn't stop thinking of doing this. It was intense, the most intense feeling I'd had since he did that to me. Perhaps the only feeling I'd had since he did that to me.









I could swear he was sitting in my bedroom on so many nights waiting on me. When I would walk in right before I turned on the lights, I could see him, in my room, waiting to hurt me again.








Still to this day, I have nightmares of him doing that to me over and over. Sometimes he's trying to kill me afterward. Sometimes he's trying to kill my family. And sometimes I wake myself up screaming, literally screaming.








I still remember every piece of clothing I had on the night it happened. A brown top, jeans, black panties with pink lace up crap, flip flops, black bra. All of which were burned. I had long hair and wore it curly. I cut it all off and haven't ever let it get past my shoulders since. I only wear it straight now even if it does take me 2 hours to get it straight.








When I park my car outside at night, I've often swore he was in there. It got to the point of me selling my car. I didn't though. I just refuse to get inside of it alone.








When I see an 18 wheeler truck beside me on the interstate, I speed up just incase it's him. He drives a truck.










 I'm stuck with seeing those nasty, degrading scars on my stomach and chest. I'll never forget the first time my (current) boyfriend asked me "What the hell is that?!" Thank God, I'll never have to explain that again.








 When I see him in public, it's critical that I wash my hands immediately. I left in the middle of a reunion because of this.