.x. Separated.....FINALLY

So after 10 very long years with David, on Nov. 13th, I kicked him out.  Probably best decision I've made yet.  I feel free.  I have friends online that I talk to.  I met a guy named Jacob in Colorado who I seem to talk to the most.  He's.....good?  He's calm.  He's understanding.  He knows my situation, and he's helping me through it.  We have plans to meet within the next couple of months, but not yet.  I want to let things calm down with David first.  But he is a really sweet guy, and he's pretty awesome.  Even when I have a panic attack, he tries to talk me through it to calm down.  He knows literally EVERYTHING there is to know about me.  About my relationship with David and how violent it was at times.  My issues, my fears, my worries, he knows it all.  And I've literally laid everything on the table with him.  But I told him I don't want to meet yet.  I want to meet when I feel my mind isn't so trapped.  Cause he doesn't deserve that, or all this baggage I'm carrying around.  Me and David haven't talked a lot.  He's only called the kids a handful of times and hasn't even came back to see them.  The boys REALLY want to see him, but I told David if I suspect he's high, then he may not see the kids or call.  I could tell he was high this evening.  I let him talk to the boys the other night, and he was crying and shit telling them he was sleeping in his car, he had no where to go, he was hungry and all this other shit, so I took the phone away and I told him straight up that was FUCKING WRONG.  You don't pile that type of shit on your kids.  You dont make them feel sorry for you.  They don't need to know that shit.  They need to know he's okay, and he's fine.  I dunno, I lost a lot of feelings for David the last couple of years, and honestly, I can't stand the asshole.  I can't fucking stand him.  He wouldn't let me talk to people.  I couldn't leave the house by myself.  The mental abuse was anguish, but that's not including the physical abuse I dealt with also.  I never mentioned it I don't think, but about 2 years ago, before we moved back in with my parents, he was so high on meth he tried to kill me.  Hours and hours of me trying to get away, to leave, screaming for help and not being able to get it.  Like, if I could pinpoint a time I truly stopped loving him, that would be it.  I tried to kill myself later that night cause I wanted to give up, but even after all the pills I took, I still woke up.  So I tried to hold everything together for my 'family'.  But I can't do it anymore.  He was suffocating me.  Even now, I am having about 4-5 panic attacks a day.  It takes me anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour to walk in to a store by myself cause I'm fucking terrified of getting out of the car, so I sit there like a little bitch.  I have to take 8 buspirones a day and 2 xanax just to try to control my anxiety even just a little bit.  I hope and pray that I'm not mentally scarred like this for the rest of my life.  I just don't know what I need to do from here.