Figments of my imagination...

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,
 
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
 
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
 
Emily Dickinson

Title is some song lyrics.

My ex-husband decided to teach me self-defence at one point. He told me to hold out my hands, and then grabbed my wrists tight. I dissociated to a young part who cried out, trying to get away. But he held on until I stopped struggling.
 
I can't get the images out of my mind.
 
All he wanted to do was break me. He succeeded.

I feel so dirty and disgusting... someone complimented on how good I looked since losing weight, and it freaked me out. I can't handle it... I want to disappear.