I was a target too. I called it an "object" then. I wasn't a person - I was an object, a concept.
I wasn't GiveLove, the person who has her own feelings and pain and needs and struggles, the person who has the right to a good life too.
To him I was "that woman who has to stay here in order for me to feel okay." My suffering didn't matter. My happiness didn't matter. Nothing mattered but the end result: power.
When I stepped out of the crosshairs and walked away, I ESPECIALLY became an object. Then I was "the woman I must get back even if it would be the worst thing in the world for HER." I was lucky to have support in fighting back and getting him away from me for good.
Object. Concept. Satisfaction of a need. Not a person.
I feel like a survivor too, but of a different kind: I survived the things I allowed to happen to me in the course of my learning. I was a hostage who finally realized that the door to my cell had never been closed. I am fortunate. Many do not survive stepping out of the target zone. We could've lost you tallulah, and ever time I think of that it just tears me up.
:ghug