Another flashback. Another reminder of pain from the past. Knee jerk reactions to deny, run and hide, beat myself up. Is this the one that takes me down? The one that smashes me permanently? The heel of his palm to my nose. Searing pain that leaves me staggering, ripe for the attack that follows.
My husband points out that it means I fought back. And he never showed up at my door again. It was the last attack. Something good from this latest reminder of pain?
So I write about it. I cry on the massage table. I talk to my husband. My therapist. I seek help. I feel all those feelings again -- fear, guilt, paranoia, self-loathing, denial.
I pause and take a respite. A retreat with my husband for the weekend. We may talk about it or we may put it aside for the time being. More than likely it will be a bit of both.
But I choose the second definition. Because this time I get to choose.
linking up with Five Minute Friday and Writer's Workshop