Abuse of any kind is like a cancer.  This cancer eats apart both the abuser and the victim.  For the victim it never seems to go away, and it finds us no matter where we try to hide. “Why does this keep happening to me?” becomes a recurring motif filled with painful melody accompanied by dissonant chords.  I almost accepted defeat after nearly 28 years of abuse of nearly every form.  The funny thing is that I didn’t even realize how much abuse I really suffered.

I had received abuse from the hands of my mother, step-father, my step-father’s brother and father, “friends,” church leaders/members, and my wife (thankfully now my ex-wife).

Writing this is more therapy for me, but if there is any chance that it might help someone else going through similar experiences, I may just sleep better at night.  Before I decide to thrust my readers into the depths of hell from which I spent the better part of my life I want to share my silver lining, my resurrection you might say.

A year ago I won my divorce from my abusive ex-wife (I am debating if I should reveal her name to the public for as they say holding dominion over a demon is knowing their name) after a year-long battle in arbitration and court.  I may have won the war, but not without a cost.  I lost my two sons (Japanese law does not permit dual custody) whom I have not seen or heard from in two years.  Don’t worry, there is still a silver lining.

I was able to find someone who understands the pain I had gone through, and loves me for who I am.  She is my best friend and I am proud to now call her my wife.  It is because of her I was finally able to begin my career as a filmmaker and use my talents for something.  I have never been happier in life than when I am with her.  It’s not easy for her, I know.  I have moments where my past rushes back to me, nightmarish memories that cause me depression, sleepless nights, bursts of anger, and the worst—endless shivering.

I used to think PTSD was something that only people exposed to things as horrible as war, or rape could develop.  I know differently.  Abuse is trauma, no matter how much or little one encounters.  I can’t even take a nap without my wife cuddled next to me.  If she’s out late with friends, there is no way I can sleep, no matter how exhausted I am.  I try not to let her see it because I want her to feel burdened by me. In fact, it was her idea for me use my blog as way to overcome my PTSD.

So, my plan is to try and recall my painful memories in the hopes of purging my mind and spirit of the pain wrought through the horrible enjoyment of my abusers.  That I may tell them that this victim is no longer subject to them. Someday.

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