It's strange - 20 years of barbs, but the specific incidents just meld into one feeling of being constantly on edge or unsafe.
But the other day I was chopping vegetables and suddenly remembered that he used to 'jokingly' brandish a knife at me sometimes.
He used to 'jokingly' push me into things. He used to 'jokingly' call me names and belittle my efforts at everything.
I woke up this morning and felt anxiety, the fleeting tendrils of a dream still pulling at my memories. I had to say to myself, "you're safe now, you're safe." And I felt better.
It's strange that I don't remember specifics, isn't it? It's been nearly 2 years since he lived here.