I survived, mostly.

So… I lost a tooth. It was my front tooth. It had been crowned several years ago. That front tooth was the first dental issue I’d ever had. I was in my 30s then and hadn’t ever even had a cavity. Then, along came a monster of a man who beat me mercilessly for three years.
I used to have to wear long sleeve shirts, pants, and socks at all times to cover my neck to toes bruises. I finally found the strength to leave, with the help of my best friend and my brothers.
So, here I am still dealing with PTSD on a daily/nightly basis, and to top it all off, I am losing teeth. The teeth on the left side of my face; the monster from my past is right-handed. The roots of my teeth have been damaged to the point that they cannot be saved, and every time another tooth needs a root canal, I’m reminded of him. Of me. Of who I was when I was there. And I have to fight back tears of regret and anger. And guilt.
I’m so embarrassed about all of this. But that’s why I have to share it–in case you or someone you know is going through something similar. We cannot bow our heads in shame; we must hold fast to whatever scrap of dignity we can find within ourselves.

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