TW Abuse. Long post about aftermath of my abusive relationship

I just, I need to post and talk about this. No matter how many people I talk about it with, I find that I'm still internalizing it all. I'm so depressed, I'm so sad, I hate myself, I hate all of it.

Two years ago, I started a relationship with my best friend. We'd been besties for TEN years by that point, we'd always been there for each other, especially through bad relationships and our mutual depression. We'd initially met online, but in 2016, we went to a music festival together and it was AMAZING. A months after that, I stayed at his place for about two weeks to see him graduate college, and things escalated, thus us starting a relationship.

At the beginning, we lost our baby, our son. I wasn't far enough along to know our baby's gender, but I just had a feeling. I moved to his state, into a home he'd just purchased for us a few months later. Everything was perfect, we rescued a beautiful puppy together, it felt like my whole life was falling in to place. We had ups and downs, but nothing too major, pretty normal stuff.

I had to return to my home state for a seasonal job I had already accepted prior to our relationship and me moving. Wasn't a big deal, he was a-ok with it, he even came to visit. After the visit, he got weird. He became possessive to an extreme, obsessive about our messaging and phone calls... He even went as far as tracking my location on my phone and looking up the tax records of my friend's house when I hadn't answered him. He even called my work to gloat about it, while he was checking that I was where I was supposed to be. Despite this, I returned home to him, our dog, and my belongings.

The first night was great. It was wonderful to be in my own house again. It was wonderful to see him, our friends our dog. But it didn't last. Quickly, he became possessive over our communication again, that I wasn't messaging him while he was at work, and he was jealous about me messaging my friends from back home instead. He settled in mostly on a male friend of mine, but soon it was just everyone. He didn't understand why we weren't having sex. I have PTSD (something he'd known about) and his whole stalking incident really set me off, but no matter how many times I tried to explain it to him, that I needed time to heal, and trust him like that again, we would fight every two weeks about it, until I was in tears and feeling like garbage. And he would always ask where I was getting my satisfaction from, because that must be the real reason. I would always find out he was upset about something from his friends when they would message me, to tell me what he needed and to make me feel bad about being a bitch... All after I'd ask him numerous times what was wrong and for him to say, "nothing."

He even lied to our therapist while I sat next to him, about how I never talk to him, we never spent time together, and I was always on my phone. By this point, I always had my phone on vibrate, face down on the arm of the couch, and I wouldn't touch it until one of us left the room. But even that became a problem, because first I was on it too much, and now I must be hiding something.

I nearly killed myself on Valentine's Day, while he was away at training for work, because of how terribly he'd made me feel on the phone about us not having sex.

I finally left, four months after returning home from my seasonal job. I watched as my picket fence burned to the ground in front of me, because a life with him was everything I'd ever dreamed of. I had to come to terms with leaving my dog, my sweet, brindle, baby girl. But I did it. I returned back to my home state, to live in my parents house until... I don't know.

After a little while, we began talking again. He had continued therapy, and it was working, he was truly improving. We talked about getting back together but only after we'd both healed.

A few months go by, and it all starts again. Saying rude, inappropriate things about my male friends to me, like, "just please use a condom," when my friend had treated me to a movie.

He would call me late at night sometimes, and we would fight, and he'd accuse me all over again. Everything that happened in our relationship would be my fault again, and I'd sob and call in to work the next day because I just couldn't do it. Sometimes he'd be drunk, sometimes he wouldn't, but you wouldn't be able to tell until he started crying... If he was drunk. I obsessively pick at my body and I can't control it, I can't stop it. It only stops when it runs its course, or when someone intervenes. He knew about this, he knew that's why I spent so long in the bathroom, but he still accused me of hiding in the bathroom to talk to other me late at night. That's one of the things he'd said in that particular instance.

I loved him so much. He walked away a few weeks ago, told me this isn't good for either of us, only four days after promising me he was going to get better (again)

I hurt. My heart hurts. I can't look at my body in the mirror and love myself, not with my picking marks, not with the body that killed my son... I hurt so much because I still love him, and I keep asking myself, why? How could my best friend do this to me? How could I let this happen AGAIN, after I'd left him for this behavior eleven months ago? I hate feeling this way, and I worry about what he spreading about me. I shouldn't, but I do, because I still love him, and I don't want to be given a bad name for doing nothing wrong. I'm a fucking mess