Today marks the nine month anniversary of my new life. Nine months ago today, Prince Charming was served with a warrant for his arrest. I know that there will come a time in my "new life" where I will no longer feel the need to recall these anniversary dates. Perhaps they will no longer be significant. I know there are thousands of other women who have journeyed a similar path. And I know I can't forget where I was nine months ago, or a year ago.
I now have a desire to change my name, move away, and simply disappear so that he can't ever find me. How strange is it that I want to change my identity when I am still struggling to find myself and who I was before him? He stole part of me. And yet, to escape his reach, I want to become someone else. When does it stop? When do the flashbacks, nightmares, panic attacks, and hypervigilance end?
Earlier this week while working on an important project at work, I had to view a series of public service announcements for some non profit agencies. One immediately caught me off guard. It was for a battered women's organization. It was quite graphic and almost instantly my mind was overloaded with memories of him. His voice loud and clear. The flashbacks stayed with me the rest of the day and most of the evening. Fragmented pieces of him and what happened. Thoughts and memories I was certain I had already dealt with. Silly me!
And I learned from the DA, that soon after the no bill came down, Prince Charming tried to contact him. Not once, but twice. He had to tell Prince Charming's lawyer to tell him to stop calling. Like he always told me, he was "untouchable" and unfortunately this has proven to be true. He was "Mr. NYC" I was the no body, the no body that no one would believe. How many times did he tell me that?
He sends me poetry now. If you consider it poetry. It's more like vulgar, pornographic, disgusting, angry rants. In none of them does he ever say he's sorry or take responsibility for his actions. I am so embarassed to have to present these "rants" to the police department. Imagine what they will think of me when they read them?