Then I cry

People keep asking why I stayed with my abuser. There were a lot of reasons. I think the main reason was fear. I was afraid that I would lose my children. If he was able to get custody, then I wouldn't be able to protect them (in the end I wasn't anyway). If he didn't get custody, then when they visited with him, I wouldn't be able to protect them. I was also afraid that if I left, he would make good on his threats to kill me. He also told me so often no one would ever want me, and that I was lucky that he was willing to accept me, in spite of my being stupid, a failure, worthless, etc. that I believed him and was afraid to be alone forever. I can go on about the why's, but I did stay. People who were not in my situation can never understand it, heck I don't understand it. My fear and his abuse lead to me having an intense fear of failure. Because I was so afraid of failing, a lot of times I didn't try. Then I hated myself for not trying. A perpetual cycle of self-loathing.

Although I can't remember a lot of the terrible things, or how often, that my abuser told me both as part of a fight, or even when it was said in what was supposed to be a loving way. Those things have been stored in my brain, in my memory. The emotions I felt, the fear, the emotional pain, even connected to the physical pain. It is all there. Sometimes those emotions and feelings will be triggered by an unrelated event. I have no control over them. My reaction to them is generally overwhelming. It can be a fight or flight reaction. Most of mine are a flight reaction. I withdraw. If I can't physically withdraw, I get very upset, anxious, crying. I may tremble, shake, or scratch myself as if I have an itch, until I bring blood. When I realize that I am that upset, I will pick up something, a book, some crocheting, even a stuffed toy, anything to fill my hands so they aren't free. 

I feel sometimes as if I have been murdered. All the things I could have been, might have done, the person I was meant to be, murdered. There are times when I feel like I am only a half a person, a stick figure, a shadow of what I was meant to be.
I grieve over it. It is hard for me to understand how one person can set out to deliberately destroy another person in such a way. 

I get angry, but then that anger scares me, so I suppress it.

I hate myself for not being able to be angry, and then I cry.