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This morning's pillow talk was about female archetypes in fairy tales and animated movies (particularly Disney - *spit*), and how much I loathe the passive 'princess' character type that girls are given to aspire to.

Not actually what I'm wanting to talk about, but it felt like an appropriate way to start the day.

A year and a day is a rather fairytale time period - it sounds so romantic, doesn't it?

Today marks a year and a day since I last saw the psychopath (and those of you who know me well will know I don't use the term lightly). Perhaps not a day to celebrate, but a day to be marked.

I was in London for a year and a day before I left for Canada with the biggest mistake of my life. There are some aspects of it I absolutely don't regret.

I am glad that I ignored the advice of well-meaning but patronising people who told me that I shouldn't try snowboarding with my knee problem. I am still happy that I finally found a sport I can really get to grips with, and a way for me to actually move fast.

I don't regret the time I spent coming up with the concept and original sketches for my graphic novel project, or in many ways the awful emotional situation I was in, isolated from any support network, that allowed me to escape into it for weeks at a time, and produce work more prolifically than any other period of my life.

I don't even regret how I acted in relationship to him - I was over-generous, somewhat naive, and turned the other cheek far too many times, but I would rather be that forever than make myself something I hate. The cracks didn't begin to show until well after I was locked into a caretaking position, and I refuse to be the sort of person to leave someone homeless, jobless and clearly mentally ill, however much of a bastard they are.

I somewhat regret not taking him to court over the several thousand pounds he owed me, and I most certainly regret not pressing charges over the violence, especially once the police were actually called in, which might perhaps have held him back from doing the same to someone else (sadly, I became aware only after the event of his history of violent and threatening behaviour - when I believed I was the first, I could imagine I might also be the last. If only.). 
On the other hand I have spent my time getting over and away from that, and putting myself in a better position, rather than engaging with the British legal system in what I still feel would have been a painful and ultimately pointless quest.

I am glad to have spent my time strengthening my links within the various communities around London so that I have a better support network, and I will be in a better position should our paths ever cross again.

It depresses me somewhat that I still feel I will spend the rest of my life moving away from him, but on the other hand I rejoice in how far I have come. Just as I wear my physical scars proudly, as trophies of my experiences, I accept the changes wrought in my personality too, by bad events just as much as good, and I realise that if it wasn't for the psychopath I wouldn't have had the motivation to move into activism, and to make the world a better place in what way I can for other people. That doesn't make his existence any less of a blight on humanity, however.

Tonight I go out with friends, and observe the crowd of wonderful people that surround me, and thank whatever powers might be for the life I have now, the fact that I still have it, and how amazingly good it is, one year and a day on, and carry on creating my own 'happily ever after'.

July 2015



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