I’m feeling like I’m covered and ants and I can’t them off or like I was an animal traveling with a pack of animals then I got circled by a wolf and I’m trapped, my connection to others has been severed.

I found out that the husband I’m separated from paid someone to hack into my email. For at least two months he’s read every intimate word I said. There were warning signs and I ignored them until I confronted him about a month ago then believed his denial instead of my evidence and gut. This place is the outlet I have with the highest probability of being private though at every step I really have to wonder.

Traveling with a pack, feeling safe in the company of others, was new behavior. Behavior I’ve learned and had to apply myself to consciously after years of total isolation in the marriage. How easily he has me back in a place of helplessness.

I let the knowledge interrupt my workday yesterday. I stopped mid-project. I have mixed feeling about that. Was I taking care of myself or was I allowing my life to be further invaded? But really even the urge to injure wasn’t there very strongly which is so different from a couple years ago when something like this would have left in bad shape and it’s good to see the progress.

I feel really angry that I can’t think this through here in greater detail because I need to protect myself against the possibility that I don’t have privacy here either. I wonder what going through this would be like without medication. It’s almost eerie to be able to keep my head above water—I don’t think it’s just medicine. I think it’s me too. (He often attacks me for being “addicted to drug” meaning seeing a psychiatrist.)

I need to not feel broken. But I do. I recently bought myself flowers then wrote to a friend about how good it was to be able to be soothed by colors (red blooms—tulip, green leaves, bright turquoise vase). This morning I look at the flowers and start to feel good then I know he’s included in that experience because he has knowledge of it, he saw the flowers in person but now he knows what they mean to me, what my private experience of them is. I’m thinking of just throwing them away. I didn’t want to share my private experience of those flowers with him. I wish I could cry.