My Last Control

Food was a way for him to hurt me, to control me. He would throw it out during a tantrum and threaten to empty the bank account. I mentioned this in previous post. Food was pretty much the only thing I could control at that time. I could control how much I ate, especially on days he was at work. 

Over the years I learned that I couldn't keep snack food in the house because he would eat it all. I even tried buying junk food I only partially liked that he didn't in an effort to have snack food in the house. Even then, he would eat it. I had to resort to hiding it in the baking cupboard. 

When I left him I couldn't figure out why I kept buying junk food. It dawned on me a few weeks later that it was my rebellion. I could finally keep food in the cupboard and it would be there the next time I wanted it. I put on a few pounds and started to worry; I was comfort eating. There is a hole in my heart, in my soul from the last few years of my life. 

I stopped exercising every weekday morning and I had stopped running months before. I didn't need to rush out of bed or answer to anyone else. I am now trying to get back to exercising regularly in the morning but running is still challenging. I don't want to run outside, he's out there. I'm currently keeping an eye out for a folding treadmill so I won't need to leave the house. I need it to be fold-able since I don't have extra floor space in my 350 sq foot apartment. 

I also struggle with what to eat. Granted, I'm have some limits (gluten), but what does a healthy, normal single gal eat? I think part of the reason I struggle is I don't want to eat things he would make me. 

He did most some of the cooking, at least on his days off. He loved to cook and took great pride in it. He also expected me to pay him big compliments on his creations. He also expected me to make him something amazing on the days h was working. If it wasn't perfect, it would result in a fight. He would gaslight me, make me think that something was wrong with me because I couldn't cook a simple supper. "Why is it so hard for you to cook" or "is it took much to ask for you to make me a decent supper after a 12 hour shift"? He would imply he did all the cooking when he wasn't working. When he fact half the time he would want to go out for supper somewhere.  

I used to be so concerned about time, specifically making time for myself on Sundays to decompress from the past week. I always felt like there wasn't enough hours in the day to take care of myself and get done all he expected of me. I would buy a pack of cookies or a pint of ice cream or something else I know he would eat the moment he found it. Except he would never find it because I would eat it all then hide the wrapper. I became a binge eater. 

Adjusting has been interesting, I have so much time for myself now but was and sometimes still have that scarcity mentality. I don't need to spend a hour plus daily tidying and cleaning up after him. I don't have to spend an hour daily in the kitchen making sure his dinner is cooked. With all this time to relax you would think I would feel better but I've never felt like I'm on the verge of a migraine more often. Apparently this is normal; that I'm decompressing from years of stress and trauma. 

Today's success - I went out for dinner with a gal pal of mine and walked around a very busy department store without having a panic attack.