Share Your Pain and It Will Go Away
Content warning: Domestic Abuse and Suicide.
Two months have passed and I want to believe that this time I’ll have the strength. That I’ll have the tools to destroy the seeds he planted and nurtured, so attentively, for so long. I will hold onto the memories enough to remind me, but release them, just slightly, as the wind catches and tries to pull me back into the pain.
Mostly, I’m okay. But the flashbacks, they blind me. They take the colour and light and leave me in a shadow so thick with debilitating emotion. A head dizzy with unanswerable questions. How have I let it go on so long? Was it my fault? Will I ever be able to truly heal?
Sometimes, I even feel hope. I brush the dust off a dating profile and scroll through face after face, page after page. I reach the last one, hundreds of people have passed me and not a flicker of interest has brought me back to life. I tell myself perhaps I’m just picky. But, how picky can you be before you accept that you’re rejecting the entire human race?
That maybe it is not that you’re picky, but that, in fact, you’re broken?
Just broken, damaged and dirty. A mess that nobody should have to pick up. I cleaned tears from my face, broken glass from the stairs and chunks of blonde hair from the carpet. I scrubbed him off of me night after night. Shouldn’t everything be clean of it now? Shouldn’t I be clean?
I’m told you can’t heal in the environment that hurt you. But he won’t let me go. He’ll never set me free. So, I wonder, what should one do, when the only way out is giving up? When the only power I have left is to take my own life before he has the chance to?
But, do I have that? Hasn’t he already taken it, leaving me a retrained and manipulated version of who I once was? Trained to self-doubt. To fear independence. To feel responsible for actions that don’t belong to me. To feel the repulsion in his eyes reflected in that of everyone else’s, even my own.
Sometimes I envy survivor’s voicing their hate for their abusers. I don’t know how to do it. I don’t know how to hate him or to blame him. He hurt me and it still hurts, but I just don’t know how to see his actions as his fault. I can feel angry at those who heard my cries, who saw the marks, who sat back and watched… Watched for years as he broke me. So why do I feel nothing but sympathy for him? Am I still under his spell?
For two years things have gradually got better. But I can’t help but wonder, was it him that changed? Or did I just stop fighting the rules?
Am I ever going to be free?
I am currently doing affirmations in a sexual abuse recovery book. One of which is ‘I can share my pain with others, and it will go away.’ So, I tried it. The fact is, my entire sexuality right now comes down to this. I’ve reached a point in which I had to spit it out or be destined to do nothing but reviews.
It’s not well written, but this, written as I would fiction, is the only way I could get it out. I am sorry to anyone who feels I have been deceitful about my relationship. I won’t go into the whys, but I hope you can understand. I did thoroughly consider making this less triggering to read, but I needed to write this for me and I needed it to be the truth. I also have to add that I am safe. I have had help and support from many professionals and not only do I know what to do if things get really bad, I know, this time, I have the strength to do it.