We don't have money like you, Danae.

    I started saving up money before I even knew I was leaving Z. We had talked of a future that included SLC but he talked about a lot of futures. I saved and saved. Every time a package arrived with his name blazed across, or he came up with some new, big idea or purchase that he needed, I just saved a little more. So when my therapist asked if I had any money saved up, although alarming, my answer was quick. I had money. I didn't have much anything else, but that I did have. She told me going No-Contact would be the best route and that it would be when I was ready not when everyone else told me so.

Then I sold my home. I sold my car. Those things should have been "ours", but he couldn't drive and everything adorning that 5th Wheel which made it a home had come from me. Once I packed up his shit, it was my home. I miss that 5th Wheel every fucking day. I used to think I hated it, but what I hated resided inside. So deeply engrained into my being that I couldn't see or think straight. I didn't hate the 5th Wheel, I despised him. To say my dedication to that incubus was twisted within his toxic grip would be the understatement of the century.

Love isn't harmful, and he loved to harm.

I remember asking myself and jotting down "If you don't like this person right here, right now? Why are you dating them?" I didn't get out for another year.

I went on to give my attention to someone that didn't believe I would, nor could leave Z. That didn't stop him from trying to gain me as another follower. Then someone who left a chewed-up piece of gum on my comforter. Then a guy who truly thinks he is better than me because he has more. Through those lessons I discovered something about myself. I haven't loved me enough. Maybe I did when I was a little girl, I can't be sure. What I can tell you is that my inner child is currently wrecked. I haven't had a moment to come up for air. I need a home.

One of the quietest places I have found was a little AA circle built amongst a gym for those in recovery. It's the first Agnostic AA Meeting I've found since leaving Portland. They had these pebbles where you could write a message, then exchange it for a message someone else had left. I found this little gem:

I have lacked belief in myself so much that I've been repeating "I Can't" all day, every fucking day. I'm lying to myself. My inner dialogue is wrong. I can. I did. I will. I'm going to be okay. First you get sober from booze, and then you get sober from men.... and then maybe booze again. Healing isn't linear and well, the Supreme Court done fucked me up all sorts of every which way. I relapsed. I made it through a pandemic. I made it through isolation. I made it out of a 3-year-long chokehold. I moved. I moved again. I got punched in the face. I moved again. I signed papers to rid myself of Z forever; only to find out he hadn't signed his half. He never did anything worthwhile. So when on top of all that, I was alerted of the movement of war over my body and my choice, I gave up. It was only for half a day, but it was enough. I blurred my reality for just a moment. Then I came back. It wasn't worth it. I still have fight in me yet. No man, no government, will ever destroy me.

I am womxn; hear my roar.

I am enough. You are enough.