[Crowbob]

As rattlesnak eloquently notes above, recovery is as individual as your fingerprint. For me, bitterness was the fuel for my engine of survival. It took many years for me to correctly identify the source of that bitterness. During that time, there were extended periods early on where even my parents sustained my unspeakable wrath. It passed. Just as a visceral hatred that I had never previously known to be able to exist was directed at my ex. also passed. Eventually, one day, against even my own will, the faint light of dawn pierced the darkness and toxicity to which I had escaped and had allowed myself to dwell.

Months and years would grind in me. Slowly it became routine to suddenly wake on those darkest and all too frequent nights, damp with sweat, chest pounding against gut, a scream from my throat echoing in my ears.

That passed.