As I moved into a house where I hope to stay forever, I spent a lot of time with things other people left behind. 

This year, time flew marked by dishes, laundry, trash, repeat. Occasionally I was seized with the worry that I was not doing the correct things.

I stood up and the top of my skull slammed hard into the ceiling. Weird, I thought, and then I stopped thinking at all.

Days have become generally unmanageable, and for some people it helps a bit to have a dog around, which I encourage. 

That’s the thing with emotional abuse. You stop trusting yourself, which makes it hard to be alone, so you stay and you listen to someone else's version of your shared story.

I thought giving generously would mean, when I needed it, I'd receive help without asking. I am learning that life is not a mind reader.