Revolting. Weak. A joke. 

Yep. Pretty much sums it up, doesn’t it?

I have a good career. I have a wonderful child. I have a loving family. 

But I feel like a failure and a burden. I don’t like it. I never felt like such a failure before he did what he did.

Let me make this very, very clear to you all. I do not like identifying as a rape victim. On good days I have sass and tell everyone that I identify as a survivor rather than a victim and do my default thing of laughing everything off and pretending that I am a ok. However, my good days are few and far between at the moment. The majority of the time I cry, a lot. I think awful things about myself and repeat them religiously until I believe every single one. I doubt things that I know I am capable of. I have next to no self worth or esteem, when a year and a half ago I was brimming with the stuff. 

Today I have had 1/2 one cereal bar, one light packet of crisps and one Caesar salad when I got home from work… I also had a teriyaki salmon salad, although purged twenty minutes later, so, does that even count?! 

I have worked thirteen hours today. Its not enough, is it. I wish I could bring myself to eat properly. I wish I didn’t hate every single thing about myself. I wish to God that I could go back in time and never, never, put him first. I wish he had not stolen my self esteem and worth. 

In a sick and weird way, I like taking photos now. I like seeing less and less of myself, it’s noticeable to me. 

Tonight, 22:00hours:

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