Time to go

 It was when he announced he was going to get a gun that I realized things were getting serious. I felt in danger and knew it was definitely time to make changes.

He was always volatile. He loved me sooo much, I was his sweetie pie, and maybe hours later he would be screaming at me about some minor issue or maybe something that just popped into his head, something I had said in the past or something that offended his delicate nature, or just because he was bored and needed some excitement, a new crisis of the day. 

The days were filled with crises, a few times a week, once a week or every two weeks, I realized once I started charting it. It left me trying to avoid him for the most part to avoid the conflict that my presence seemed to elicit.

The constant unpredictability left me anxious and nervous, waiting for the frequent attacks. My sleeping suffered, as did most other aspects of my life. Long walks were a temporary respite. Praying for relief and direction was something I could do. Spending time with friends was helpful, though he didn't really like most of them and said critical and insulting things about them to try to dissuade me from spending time with them. Though he was kind to my friends, seems his disapproval was only expressed to me of course.

I didn't realize it until I started journaling. I was always caught off guard or recovering my equilibrium from the ongoing attacks, trying to figure out what I could do differently to avoid enraging him. My journal showed me the frequency of the rages and the triggers to his anger and what I noticed was that it didn't make sense. There was no rhyme or reason to it. In fact the changability in his thinking waved like a huge red flag. That's why when he decided he wanted to get a gun I knew it was time for me to come up with an exit strategy.