Coming back

It is almost exactly a week and I have calmed down a lot, started eating again and stopped losing weight, which is a good thing. I still haven't got my head around the enormity of what he did, my reaction and his reaction to my reaction. But I'm making progress.

After everything I said to him at the time and I said plenty he came back to the house tonight for a change of clothes and mentioned that he'd seen in a magazine article a list of recommended reading for 'when you're in a bad mood'.

Which just goes to show that I will never, ever make this man understand that his behaviour is unacceptable. He's living in a fantasy world where he can do these things, and because he's been able to do these things they're ok. If they were as bad as I feel about them then some how they wouldn't have been possible. This is a mind-set wherein one has been absolved of all responsibility for ones actions.

So I'm not righteously angry ... I'm in a bad mood. And if he behaves as if nothing is seriously wrong for long enough I'll climb down. This is just a polite middle class form of bullying and I'm not the demented woman I was last time it worked when I was pregnant, low-paid and without close friends at hand.

I know that right now, this week, getting shot of this shit bag is important but not urgent, because he isn't screwing with my mind anymore, because I've immunised myself. I need to focus on maintaining my immigration status ... and then I'm going to take the bastard to the cleaners. He won a battle this week but he can't win the war.

I have enough to put him in prison or at least land him in a police station answering some tough questions about fraud.

Very soon now he's going to regret not treating me with a bit of common courtesy and respect.