I am laughing, puffing on some Mary Jane, having a lovely time. When I have times like this, I wonder why I don’t have more times like this? I do not have something like that by my fault most of the time. My mind can be my friend just as much as it can be my enemy.
Back to the story at hand, the smoke is in the air with laughter—my phone rings. I want to say it was around seven something in the evening. It is Sunday me not thinking much of it. I am about to answer until it is a New York number. I pause to look to say who the heck is calling me from New York like what the heck, but even then, with all of this tightening my body putting me at alert, I still answered that phone. My happiness did not allow me to read my red flag signs. I respond with joy in my voice, “Hello.”
If I had known at the time that answering that call was going to rock my PTSD world, then I would have hit the decline button. This way, I could keep laughing the night away without caring about the world. Instead, my night ended with my PTSD triggered, making it very difficult even to try and enjoy the rest of the night.
Once I heard my name “Linette,” I, like a fool of habit, answered “Yes,” still not clicking all of the ways that it’s my ex-husband’s voice I am hearing. My body and PTSD recognized it quickly, for I no longer responded to my name, especially with the sound of his voice. Without realizing, and I am guessing as a safety mechanism, I placed the call on mute until the call ended. The whole time did not know that I was shaking while all of this was happening.
Once he hung up the call, he then proceeded to text me as if calling me wasn’t bad enough and hadn’t already caused me enough trauma. He then proceeds to text me and continues to do this via text.
What gets me is that he knows I do not like to speak to him because he knows how to push my buttons. Then he acts like he did nothing wrong, and it’s all me or all on my head. He knows how to bully severely mentally. I then start to beat myself up for allowing him to have that power or effect over me.
I am taking my broken crayons for the first time in my life, and I am melting them together. I am melting them together to create a whole new box of blended crayons. I am taking charge of my life and my mentals to grow more vital for my family, landing us on our feet. If I get my legs back in the process, that’s a bonus for my family and me.
I know this much I never want to feel how that call and text made me feel at that moment. I had to place my ex-husband on the block list after texting my response, of course, but what I wanted to say was, how did you get my phone number?
I did provide him an explanation; I don’t feel that I owe anyone an explanation of how or why I’ve made any moves or decisions. Anyone who knows me should know I will do what is best for my children and do what I need to do to keep them safe. I never got my explanation or my apology.
My theory is I lost in this situation way more than he ever could. He needs to be grateful for everything that I have ever done and leave me alone so we can heal move on with life. Our son, old enough to pick up the phone his autism or no autism, can call by his choice. If he chooses not to call, then that is by his choice. All dad can do is respect the fact that the past or lack dictates the choices his son makes now.
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