I was looking forward to escaping to work, being able to concentrate and think of other things. Unfortunately for me, it hasn’t really worked out that way.
I had to inform a senior nurse and my matron of the situation, when I had to leave work last week, it just all got too much. I could not deal with the intrusive thoughts swirling around in my head while trying to work for 13 hours, especially with three missed calls from the police happening in my scrub pocket as well. I’m not the sort of person who enjoys telling people about this situation, yes writing about it is cathartic to an extent, but, talking about it? Hearing the words come out of my mouth detailing it all, no, no I hate it.
I don’t want to appear negatively and when I told them I did it with a smile. A sort of manner that said ‘yeah, this happened to me but I’ve handed it over to the police now, I’m fine’. I’m not quite sure it came across like that though. In fact my voice shook, that tell tale wobble when the lump in your throat forms and the tears collect in the corner of your eyes.
Office doors were immediately closed and hugs were given. People I have worked with for two weeks, who barely even know me were showering me with support and my god was that what I needed in that moment.
I am full of nerves regarding this video statement. God, was I ever expecting this to happen? All I ever wanted was a sorry, but he couldn’t even give me a simple apology so now look where we are.
Ill. Damaged. Fucked up.
Actually, not just nervous of it, I’m terrified of it. Sitting and talking about it, but being recorded, knowing that officers are going to pick apart what I say and question him about it. Literally going and getting him from home or work. That thought fills me with two feelings in all honesty.
- Happy because it is what he god damn deserves. To be scared, like I was. To be made to confront what he is guilty of, no longer being able to run from it like the coward he truly is.
- Upset. I absolutely loved this guy. First love never fully, fully goes away I guess, even considering what he did to me, hardly seems fair. I mean, I hate him, a lot, but there is always that lingering caring, admittedly it is decreasing very fast, but still, I do wish it was fully, fully gone. He was my world, my daughters world and now I have enlisted the police to get him. What he deserves, yes. But I spent so long protecting him, always putting him first and now, the complete opposite. It’s just, different. It’s horrible in all honesty.
Stronger than before, most definitely. Whether that’s actually due to being stronger or heavy duty antidepressants numbing me to everything, I’m not so sure really.