Kattmomma, I have been thinking about your posts since you made them, as I needed time to consider what I really wanted to say outside of the obvious.
I have never stuck around with someone who has hit me, though I did stay in emotionally toxic relationships because they were good enablers. The single most important thing I have learned about relationships through this maddening journey of addiction and now recovery, is that we exist in pain, we use to lessen then pain, and we want somebody who will nuture our soul.
We are not going to find that while actively using because healthy well adjusted people don't want to be with unhealthy people. Time and time again I thought I found somebody great, who understood me and would protect me, while being tolerant of my addiction. In reality what I found was a fellow addict, another troubled soul, who may or may not have more pain than me or be in worse mental health.
When we meet potential love interests we want to be the best we can be to attract and keep them. As we grow more familiar it gets harder to keep up the ideal image and our true selves begin to show. When we are addicts, we reveal ourselves much quicker. While we as addicts can relate to other addicts, we are in no way able to take care of them, we struggle to maintain ourselves. Getting romantically involved with someone just as unhealthy, or unhealthier than ourselves is destine to fail, and the fallout can be nuclear as we have so quickly trusted them with the care of our soul and our vulnerabilities.
The ensuing hurt is devestating and only adds to the pain we already carry. Odds are that the next person we become involved with is going to be even unhealthier as we have grown unhealthier in trying to reconcile the pain from the last relationship. Like addiction, it's a vicious cycle.
In my late twenties I could no longer tolerate getting romantically hurt so I stopped dating. I had male friends that would enable me but kept them at arms length. I had one that almost killed me in a violent angry rage because he wanted more than I could give, and he was sicker than I was. He broke into my home and dragged me out of my bed one night. He threw me around my living room smashing me into my furniture breaking all but my sofa and love seat. He had me pinned to the floor strangling me, yelling in my face, spitting as he yelled, so much so that I could no longer see as it puddles in my eyes.
I laid there thinking this is not how I want to die - I don't want my parents to find me like this. I didn't want to be murdered by my addiction, as if I weren't addicted I never would have spent time with this guy. He choked me so hard I had star bursts in my eyes, and with the last strength I had I was able to wedge my leg in between us and push him off me. I jumped through my glass window as I didn't have the time to try to unlock all the bolts on the door. I tried to yell for help and had no voice (it took to weeks for me to be able to make any sound). I ran to my neighbors house, bloody, in my underwear and he let me in and called the police. As I sat there in my neighbor's house dripping blood half naked, scared and lonely, I saw myself in the mirror.
I realized this was going to be my life until I got healthy. I was always so envious of people in stable relationships and wanted what they had, never understanding I was never going to have that until I got mentally healthy. The addiction played a part, but it was my mental health keeping the good guys from spending time with me.
Healthy people aren't up at two in the morning on work nights, they're not spending their evenings in bars, or taking off work to go to court every month. I realized I had to fix me before thinking about a relationship. I had to save myself from myself, no one else was going to do that.
It seemed like an impossible task because I didn't know what was wrong with me. I knew I was an addict, but there was so much more, but that was the first thing I worked on because it was the only thing I could pinpoint at the time. I struggled for years to get sober, outpatient, group, intensive outpatient, inpatient...twice. During those years I worked on getting clean the puzzle was slowly fitting together and I discovered my issues.
It was then I was able to make the pieces fit - I got in a better mental state then I got sober. I continued, and still do, to work on my mental health. Ironically, I met my husband after I had my first sober year. We did normal things - went to the beach, went for walks, watched movies, and were in bed by 11. There was no drama, no wake up calls at two because we were both healthy. We've been happily married for almost four years now.
I wasn't looking for a relationship when we met. Something just clicked, and I enjoyed spending time with him. I never wanted to get married because all my previous relationships were filled with so much pain and resentments, a certificate would make it harder to run away from. However, when he proposed I said yes and I am so glad I did. I have grown so much as a person by being around him. I never knew what normal was, or healthy until I met him. We're together and yet I am strong enough to have my own identity. I didn't need him, I wasn't looking for him, and yet he compliments my life beautifully.
I didn't intend to write this much, take from it what you can. You need to give yourself time to heal and rebuild your identity. A relationship should be a compliment to your life, not a necessity or a burden. You should be able to reflect on most of the time you spend together and smile, not just a small fraction while trying to forget other events. A relationship should not drain you or make you feel powerless. You are a strong woman kattmomma - your posts have already shown that. Take that strength to the next level and spend time focusing on you.
tl:dr - in Oder to have a healthy relationship you yourself has to be healthy. Healthy people simply do not want relationship with unhealthy people, and if you are unhealthy and someone is constantly perusing you be very wary. People are great actors, you may be in for a level of crazy you can't really conceive.
