It’s finally over. I’ve found closure. This mistreatment at her hands has come to an end. After years of trying to find out where I went wrong, I’ve figured it out.
I didn’t go wrong.
In a matter of hours, I was able to reflect on my PTSD recovery and confirm my progress is nothing short of spectacular. I see how far I’ve come. Before you ask, she helped more than she’ll ever realize.
All those times she tore me down, took advantage of my weakened state, or simply accused me of being an asshole motivated me to be better. I learned quickly that seeking treatment to please anyone except myself didn’t work, so I used her harsh words and actions to reflect on myself. If I was an asshole, I worked on fixing that for me, and by extension, she and the kids would be more accepting.
The damage I thought I inflicted on her didn’t exist. It was someone else that did that to her. It wasn’t me, or the terrible version of me that I used to be. The one that hurt her ran away, so she turned to me to release that anger. It thickened my skin. It hurt before I figured all of this out, but now it gives me strength.
I have a job that I absolutely love. I have kids that think the world of me, and I, them. I have the affection of a few different stunning and successful women who respect my decision to be a father over anything else. I may not have a lot of money right now, but what single dad with PTSD does?
I can’t say I love her anymore, and I’ve accepted that. I have forgiven her. I don’t believe her actions have been her own. It’s her turn to heal. Maybe someday she’ll realize her mistakes, but I’m not one of them. My life is my own.
Stealing a line from one of my favorite bands, “I hold the rights to my own fate.”