I thought I would be ready for it. I thought I was prepared. I talked about it like it was already in the past. So matter-of-factly. So strong--like I just wanted to move on.
I do want to move on. I do. And I know that this will be a critical component to my moving-on journey. But I still wasn't ready for it, no matter what I said or how I acted.
His lawyer called yeterday. He left a voicemail saying that a no-contact order was in place and that he can't contact me, lest he wants to go to jail. As much as I try not to talk to him, it's happened a few times. It's good to hear his voice. It feels good to know he still wants me and I do get some sort of sordid pleasure in knowing he loves me and he's not over me. But I can't have that anymore. I think the lawyer knows he'd talk to me too, because he requested for me to not contact him.
With that call I knew things were in progress. That finally the justice system was doing something about my case albeit three months after the fact. Yet, even though I received that call yesterday I wasn't prepared for the letter that came today. The letter that states the dates and times of the trial and pre-trial. The letter that states that I will be subpeona'd if it goes to trial.
I thought I'd be ok. But then I got to class and saw my friends. And the tears came in sobs and I buried myself in my friends' hugs. The enormity of that single piece of paper hit me in that moment and suddenly I remembered the pain and hurt and I realized that I'd have to relive that if I have to testify. And I'd be torn apart if I have to see him.
And truthfully I don't know if I can handle it.