DINNER WITH FRIENDS

It's been 54 days since I last spoke to you.

A Twilight Zone kind of day. Like existing in some parallel space. I was seeing my self experience something very out-of -the- norm. It was something simple, that many people engaged in, but something I hadn't been able to be part of without great fear:

I went out to dinner with coworkers.

Not a happy-hour type of event, but an actual sit-down-and-talk, let's-catch-up dinner. My co-workers decided to host this dinner for the Unit Manager, a man who'd been seriously injured while on business in New York. He'd sustained injuries that had drastically altered his body, but thankfully had left his mind unharmed and sharp. He'd received a month of critical care in New York and, once stable, was transported back home to continue care. After two months of intense recovery and therapy, he was able enough to leave the rehab facility for a nice dinner out. We celebrated him tonight, his beautiful spirit, and his wonderful improvement. It was a good night.

As most of my experiences have been since leaving my abuser, ROW, this night was bittersweet.

Had this taken place two months ago, there would have been endless phone calls, texts, and video calls. First, the texts:  Was this an actual work event that I was being paid for, or was this just social time? How long did I plan to stay out? Had I changed out of my work clothes and put on something for 'going out'? Was I having any alcohol? Was anyone trying to hit on me? Why was I staying so long if the event was off the clock? Was I aware that he'd been calling and texting me? Why wasn't I answering his calls and texts? Were these people that I barely knew more important than him?

The texts would start off slowly, he'd try to keep it casual. But as my time apart from him lengthened, the number of texts would increase, intensify. They became a steady onslaught as his suspicion and rage grew. I'd start to feel nauseous from dread.

His demands would become frenzied. He'd repeat, rapid-fire, that I needed to answer the phone immediately, and that it needed to be done in front of whomever I was with. He'd say that I'd better not move away for privacy. And if I did have to move away, then that meant I was obviously ashamed of him or that I obviously had something or someone to hide from him. The energy and virulence from his texts alone made me jittery and fearful. There was  a deep sick feeling in my stomach.

The barrage of texts always led to him declaring: "You must not want a relationship! You really don't want a relationship! I can see you don't want this relationship! I refuse to be treated this way, to be with a woman who can't even answer her phone and give me 5 seconds, just because she's with her very important friends! I refuse to stay with a woman who makes everyone else more important than me!"

So even though he wasn't physically there with me, his presence was very strongly felt. He made himself known, via cell phone. This was the goal. I was not to be out without him, and if I was, he would make it painful for me. He'd keep me from engaging with others, and remotely devour all of my time and attention.

I failed miserably during these episodes. At the time, all of my options seemed to be no-win situations. If I answered his texts, my answers wouldn't be satisfactory, and his interrogation would intensify. If I didn't answer his texts, he'd imagine worse and worse scenarios of what I could be doing and of why I wasn't answering, and his texts and rage would intensify. Around this time, the calls would start, and they too would grow to a feverish pitch. The buzzing and vibrating was endless, manic. There was no way to hide the sounds, or my growing panic, if I happened to be around others.

More often than not, I would cave and answer his texts. I'd try to calm him. Because he was already so worked up, nothing I said or did sufficed. Once I responded, he would occupy me with scathing textsfor the rest of the time I was out. Or worse, he would demand I answer him by phone, which I would eventually do, as well. All of my time and attention would shift towards appeasing him and saving the relationship. I was supposed to be "out", but I was still very much tied to him.

I did put my phone away at times in attempts to be in my moments for a short while.  Despite my efforts, the dread of how many messages were waiting for me was consuming. It would churn inside of me, and I wasn't able to enjoy where I was or what I was doing. Time apart from him was time spent in constant fear. There would be some type of retaliation or punishment waiting for me. 

Just a couple hours of shopping, or spending time with my family, or hanging out with a girl friend that I hadn't seen in forever, simple things that I tried to do, inevitably became catastrophic events. No matter how much I worked to prepare him beforehand with where I was going, who I'd be with, what I'd be doing, and about how long I would be out, the texts and calls would still come, and it would all end with his rage, and the breakup of the relationship.  

This would happen almost every time I was out without him. I felt towered over and terrified, and would often fall ill in the following days from the overwhelming stress and intensity of his rage. Eventually, I cut out doing things on my own or with friends. I took care of the necessities, like going to work, grocery shopping, and managing my family's schedule. But the price was too high and too painful to do anything else without him. He not only had all of my time and attention, but I now had no one else but him. I'd let everything and everyone else go, to keep peace between us.

Another behavior that deeply bothered me: When he couldn't reach me by text or voice, he'd switch to video calling. Through any and every phone app that had video capabilities. Video calling to see my surroundings, make sure I was at the place I said I was going to be, see who was sitting or standing around me, see and hear what was being said, demand that I talk to him and answer his questions in front of whomever I was with, see if there was any alcohol or any other unapproved substances near me.... It was total surveillance of my every move,  seeing for himself if all was as I'd said.

Sitting at Starbucks after work, waiting for my bus to come, he'd demanded that I pan the store with the forward-facing lense on my phone, so he could see who was around me. He needed to visually confirm that I was truly in Starbucks, and that it was the exact one he knew I waited in whenever I  rode the bus. I tried to look and sound neutral while refusing. It was too incredible, what he was asking. 

Trying to explain that I wasn't doing anything inappropriate or illicit, that I was truly just waiting for the bus to get home, he became livid. Face red, he roared out that he couldn't be with someone as secretive as me, who couldn't do the simplest things without causing so much contention. He didn't have to deal with someone as difficult and contentious and sneaky as me, and he wouldn't out up with my games anymore. He disconnected the feed. 

I sat in shock. I had no words or thoughts. Only an intense feeling of being sucked under, into a heavy, dark mass. I did not know what to do. I didn't know how to handle what had just happened. I didn't know how to re-engage him, to make things right.

Even more frightening was when he'd just show up. He'd either pull up in front of the large picture window of a restaurant and park there, making sure I was in his line of sight and he was in mine. If he was able to see me through the window, he would start questioning me by text on what he was seeing. "Oh, you seem to be laughing pretty hard. What did she just say to you that was so funny?'  "Looks like you're done eating, so why are you still hanging around there?" 

He would follow and watch me. I'd tell him where I'd be. He'd beat me there, or arrive after me, and watch. To catch me in a lie, by me not really being where I'd told him I'd be. Or to catch me with another man. 

He'd watch me without revealing himself to me. He'd park in secluded places near my girl friends' homes. He'd park nearby when I visited my family. He'd be at the corner if I was out shopping or walking around. And he'd text me, asking me questions about what he was seeing me doing, testing to see if I would tell him the truth, if I'd give him full descriptions, or if I'd leave some things out. In those moments, I never knew I was being watched or tested.  Right when I was ending whatever it was I was doing, he'd call and ask if I was done, and if I wanted to meet up somewhere. I'd remark on how weird it was that he'd called right when I was leaving. He would say it was because we were so in tune with each other, and he could feel me. He's admitted to doing this often.

 Other times, he'd watch me, and let me know he could see me. This would instantly cause panic. He'd call or text me after I'd left a place and ask me how things had gone and what had I done while I was there. Thinking he was just chatting with me, I'd tell him about my time out, to which he would quickly respond: "I know. I saw you". He would then throw out a few details of my environment and what he'd seen me do, just as casually as if he was letting me know what the weather would be for the next few days. It was a sickening, paralyzing feeling. This happened often, and it was something he deeply enjoyed.

One step further, he'd physically come and stand nearby. In my line of sight, and just on the outskirts of my friends or colleagues. Face tight with anger, and radiating rage he'd radiating rage, he'd hover nearby until I decided to leave with him.

Even recounting these episodes, I'm instantly plunged back into those moments, feeling the dark and suffocation and fear and panic. The intensity and strategy of his psychological and emotional abuse is chilling. The aftereffects have been almost-debilitating. But it's been 54 days. I've managed to disentangle myself from his stranglehold, and cling to my own life, for dear life. There was the terror of being with him, and the physical and mental anguish of  ripping myself away from him. Both excruciatingly painful, but at the end of one, I continue to live.

I'm still hurting, still struggling. 54 days has felt an eternity to me. At the same time, it hasn't been enough to reprogram what's been ingrained in me. I did nervously check the restaurant window several times tonight. I was acutely conscious of my phone. I kept waiting to feel him, hovering at my shoulder, pressing me to leave. But there was none of that. Pulling myself back into tonight,  I can say that it was truly nice. I was engaged, smiling, experiencing. It was awkward, and new.

I never would have imagined that something so simple as dinner with colleagues would be such a great feat for me.

I never would have imagined that something as simple as havimg dinner with coworkers would be such a great feat for me.