I got a job, and I kissed a man.

I know. I know. Before you say it, I can’t jump into another relationship. I read the books, remember?

I got the job through my membership with the Domestic Violence Survivors Club. I know I should feel grateful. But I’m tired of being “poor little Gloria Parker.” I want to be more…or less. Just Gloria Parker.

Will that ever happen? Will people ever look at me and not think about Glenn Diller?

I’m working my ass off, and it feels good to be needed and to exercise my brain. But it feels…surreal. Like at any moment, I’m going to wake up on that ratty mattress in that stinking trailer. I’m still having the dreams. I don’t know if they’ll ever go away.

Glenn’s gone. Hopefully for a long time. He never made bail, likely won’t get out for years. But I still feel like his shadow is following me everywhere. Why can’t the Gloria I was with him disappear, too?

I know I should be patient. But I have so much time to make up for. How much more time am I going to lose to him? Why can’t I just snap my fingers and be better?

Why couldn’t I drag Aldo Moretta through my bedroom window that night? He’s gone. Six months. I need those six months to decide if I want to have a relationship with him. I already know I do. But which Gloria is that? The battered victim? Poor little Gloria Parker who needs to be protected from life? Or a me I haven’t met yet? Who’s calling the shots?

I see the way everyone looks at me. I haven’t done anything to change their minds about me yet. I can’t be defined by Glenn anymore. I can’t define myself by Aldo, either. There. Happy?

I have a beautiful, kind, sexy man who wants me. And I’m not allowed to want him back. Glenn keeps ruining everything…or I keep letting him.

The abuse wasn’t the problem, not the big one. It’s the echo of it. In the moment, I felt like I won when he hit me. I pushed him. I made him lose control. Afterwards, he was sorry, so sorry. For a while anyway. I had the power. But there’s nothing healthy about a violent power struggle. And now there’s this echo of that cycle in me. Like it’s all I know.

A delivery driver was yelling at someone on the phone this morning, and I flinched like it was me. I flinched like I was going to take a hit. Della saw it. She looked…not disappointed but sad. Like maybe I’m stirring up her own echoes.

Glenn had me convinced that I was responsible for his every mood. Is that true? Can that be real? Isn’t it narcissistic to believe I was the reason behind everything he ever said or did? Am I responsible for how other people feel?

I hate that I don’t know who I am without him.

I think “poor little Gloria Parker” bothers me because that’s how I see me. And I don’t know how to see me without someone else in the picture…

Work is good. Hard. Terrifying. I don’t want to disappoint anyone. I’m still half convinced I’ll fail. My friend told me to talk to myself like I’m my own best friend. Which is ironic, considering I started talking to myself for company years ago. But I didn’t realize Glenn’s voice in my head is me, too. That I can change those words.

I can change that voice. When I remember. When I can take a step back and remember that it’s not the truth whispering around my brain.

I guess what I’m saying is I’m still lost. Still scared most of the time. Still lonely. I don’t know how to be a part of anything. Aldo’s gone, and I worry about him. National Guard. Afghanistan. Bad things happen to soldiers every day. I know we’re not together, and I know I can’t hang my happily ever after on him, but can I handle it if something happens to him? Can I handle anything? Everyone’s working really hard to build this safe, happy bubble for me. My mom, Harper, Della.

But I can’t help but wonder if I can survive without the bubble.

So that’s where I am. Grumpy, confused bubble girl.