Borderline Petsonality Disorder, made worse by alcohol and then prescription pain meds, and then I really don’t know. It was bad. Everything was someone’s fault. He could never see that he wasn’t a victim. Smashed my face in the wall? Well, our son talked back to him and it’s because I never parent. (I did 90% of the parenting.) Sometimes I didn’t even know the why. Eventually, I took my son and checked him out of school and drove for two days to live on an unregistered boat on a river in the south. All cash. No tracking. No GPS. No use of Fass Pass on highways. Even my family was not permitted to know where I was. Dangerous for them and for us. The police helped me here and when I reached the final destination, the police there helped me as well. They also checked us against photo ID, because child services was not sure that we had gotten out. In other words, they thought we had been killed and dumped. Still he found us. (I’m a chemo patient-oh yes, another thing that was my fault and caused him great anger) and he managed to sweet talk someone into giving the place of my next treatment. Child services called and told us to get on the move. He even knew the name of the boat.
I see a lot of my ex in Trump, except my ex was incredibly intelligent, talented, witty and devious, and Trump doesn’t have there character traits.
By the way: just a self serving plug: I’ve been posting poetry about this time and my time healing self. Please check it out in the poetry forum!