You are given this life because you are strong enough to live it!!!

Hey All,

Do you ever have something that just weighs heavy on your heart at times and you need an avenue to talk?  My topic this morning is not at all as I originally intended, since I am still working on getting my Wedding Blog posted.  First of all, YAY... I have been blissfully married for going on two weeks now and I'm loving it.  And surprisingly the name change has not been that difficult for me as I had anticipated.  While thoughts of marriage to my best friend only bring me excitement for my future, I am also reminded how blessed I am because my life has not always been this blissful.

Everyone knows that October is Breast Cancer Awareness month, and trust me when I say I am a huge supporter, I have had some very brave women in my family battle this.  And while I can't in my worst nightmare image what its like to live that battle, the organization is near and dear to my heart.  I had the privilege for my first job to be working in an oncology office and I must admit that my life has been enriched by the women and families that I met, grieved and celebrated with.  However October is also Domestic Violence Awareness Month, and this hits very close to home for me.

The following photos/poems I have taken and written.  I am a far cry from being a poet, but during some of the toughest times in my life I found myself writing and this is what I had to say.  ( Please ignore the spelling error I will go back and fix when I get a chance to edit them again)  But as you will be able to see, I know what it is like to be abused as a child and have a childhood filled with fear, pain, self hatred and loneliness.  More than that, like many who suffer various types of child abuse I found a man later in life who treated me the only way I knew was acceptable...abusive.  Up until four years ago, I had spent a lifetime in fear, being some mans punching bag, verbal dumping ground and worse.  Growing up in that environment I can't say I didn't know better, but I can say I didn't realize how bad my situation was.  But the poems below were written as I began to slowly question the situation I was in.  Something deep inside me was crying to finally be free.

 

"            Damaged Goods   

 

Damaged goods...that's what you said

Was that just an insult

Were you trying to hurt me

Am I no good

 

Does that mean I deserve less love

You get mad and say hurtful things

What exactly doe this one mean?

 

Damaged goods..that's what you yelled

Do you think I liked my childhood

That I had any control over it

I was a child I didn't get a say

But are saying I'm undeserving or that I am just no good

You get mad and say hurtful things

What exactly does this one mean?

 

Damaged goods...that's what you screamed

You can dismiss me by one hiss, one dart of your words

You care so little, can you just toss me aside

Does it make you feel strong and in control

To rip me apart and bring me to teats

Does it make you strong, do you feel like a man

You get mad and say hurtful things

Just what exactly does this one mean?"



You see I grew up with a biological father who was not only verbally and physically abusive but also the worst kind of abusive you can imagine for your child.  This is one of the hardest things I will ever say out loud or put out there for people to read, mostly because this is what I have carried the most amount of shame from (and something I found out in college that I had repressed and suffered PTSD from, but that's for a more elaborate story).  He was the type of man who nobody would have suspected, because he didn't look like a pedophile, he didn't look like an abuser, he looked clean cut, polite, great with his kids and even somewhat respectable.  People wouldn't know that he beat his daughter with a 2x4 in third grade, holding her by the arm and beating her black and blue.  People wouldn't know that he would scream, yell, kick, hit, choke or throw things at his young kids, or that he made them live by the rule that "What is said in his house says in his house".  People wouldn't believe the horrible nightmare that was behind our door on Timothy Rd, or even the times a child contemplated suicide to end the abuse, the inability to sleep because she was afraid he would make good on his promise to kill her in her sleep.

 But some how I survived and managed to make it through life without telling a soul.  I went off to college, and was always known as the girl with the biggest smile, and who loved, loving life.  And just when I think I have met a great guy and my life would be different, I walk right back into the lions den.  You see I never got help from my childhood so I didn't have the skills to know the signs, or to know they looked different as an adult than as a child.  The poem above is from a particularly troubling night when the man I thought cared about me, did nothing but put me down and used the information I had shared with him about my past, against me.  We had been together about 3 years when I finally started to understand my situation as abusive.

See in my head, abuse between a man and a woman was when the man punched or slapped her.  I know anyone who has never been in this situation can't being to imagine how someone can simply not know, but when you have been taught something is ok, then that is all you know.  Kicking, spitting, yelling, throwing, locking you in a room, turning the power off in the house, disconnecting your car, dragging you by the hair, and all the horribly belittling things being said...just didn't register as abuse.  All I could think to myself was he didn't hit me, so its not considered abuse. It wasn't until year three (and my mom always telling me I was in a bad situation) did I start to question.  And even to myself I can hear my doubts in this poem.

I had the worst of both worlds, a childhood full of pain and a good portion of my adult life haunted by my past, only to find a man to treat me just like my father did.  But as an adult to hear this man tell me I'm damaged goods, something inside me started to change.  Something made me question how a "caring" man could try to hurt me, could say the things that would cripple me, why would he use my past against me.  I had friends who were more understanding.

 

"        Bruises

 

 

"Why can't bruises turn into scars

Standing here in the shower, the water has gone cold and tears no longer form

I look down half expected to find these blue and purple patches to have washed away

Nothing changes, my childhood had bruises, and even as an adult I can't run

I want to vomit...how did I get here

 

Now if only these bruises would turn into scars

If they wouldn't fade, maybe if they stayed I wouldn't forget the pain once they are gone

As the bruises to start to fade so seems the memory and the pain

Once they are gone I can pretend that it never happened, tell myself its going to be ok again

Oh how shameful it is....how did I get here

 

Maybe if these bruises would turn into scars

I could make myself believe the truth behind the lies

But with each new colorful set, I no longer believe that I am better than that

I think nobody could love me, look who I let myself become

Oh how weak I've become...how did I get here

 

Oh bruises you fade too quickly, why can't you turn into scars

Each time over, I put on that fake smile that even I believe in

You take with you my reminders, my memories and my resolve for something better

You leave marks on my heart, but you don't leave scars..."



The night I wrote this poem was one of the most emotionally painful nights of my life.  You see my ex had a drinking problem and was even meaner than normal as you can imagine with a little alcohol.  I was living in PA at the time working in Philly, and after an extremely painful fight I ran to stay in the city for a few nights so I could get away from him.  As a child I as accustomed to bruises, and as I got older I began a self-healing process to deal with and accept my past.  But this night about an hour after our fight I went to step in the shower and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and was horrified by the bruises that covered my body.  Granted this was certainly not the first time, but something was different this time, something inside me broke.  It reminded me of a promise I had clearly broke to myself.  As a child I swore my future would be different, that no man would ever cause me to bruise again, and here I was for more times than I could count with bruises all over my body that I would once again have to figure out how to hide.

Usually I can say that I didn't cry from being hurt physically, you sort of get used to it.  But this night I cried a broken hearted cry.  I cried for the childhood I missed out on, I cried for the life I was robbed of, I cried for joy I had lost, I cried for the weak woman I found myself to be, I cried for letting myself even be in this situation and I cried for the realization that I would go back to him because I was too afraid and ashamed to get help.

Anyone looking on the outside in, I understand your initial reaction to say "Oh Hell NO, not me, no man will ever lay a hand on me and live to tell about it" or "Dang how dumb do you have to be to let yourself even live like that....don't you know you always have options?"...count your blessings that you have that mentality!  Because abuse is as much mental as it is physical, you don't know you have a way out, and you already have so much fear built up inside that you can't handle the fear of the unknown.  Your abuser makes you feel like you are worthless, unlovable, and that you will fall on your face if you try to move on, so why try.

The truth is so many go back to their abusers, you can call them dumb, you can call them stupid you can even say they deserve it....and most of us won't blame you at all.  We may even envy you that you have never had to be in a position where you didn't know better.  I am the person who went back twice, and the third time was for good.  Not all get to figure it out, and I don't think I could come up with more words to explain than that poem does.  When the bruises fade, a switch sort of goes to auto pilot and you go back to pretending that life is this wonderful place, you smile so nobody knows, things calm down for a week or two at home so it plays right into yourself elusion.  Every time it happens again I would tell myself I wish bruises lasted longer, because just as soon as my resolve got stronger they would begin to fade again and I would go back to pretending.

 

 

"      I am Her...I am You

 

 

I am her...I am you...

I am every woman in denial

I am every woman who cared for someone more than herself

I've been abused...I've been a victim

 

I've scoffed at women just like me

I've pitted those who couldn't see their situation

I believed for me things were fine...normal

I believed my future was different

I believed each time really would get better

 

But I am her...I am you...

I am every woman in denial

I am every woman who can't see her situation

I've been abused...I've been a victim

I've avoided your eyes as you walked down the street covering your bruises

I told myself it was pity, but really it was shame

You wore sunglasses in winter, I wore sleeves in summer

I can't see it yet, but I am her, I am you

I want out but I can't see a way

 

I am her...I am you...

I am everyone woman in denial

I am every woman who can't see her situation

I've been abused...I've been a victim

I forgive too easily, wanting to form what I have into what I want

I can't bring back those feelings once they are buried

And the memories are just out of my grasp

The bruises are too healed to bring a vivid reminder

 

I am her...I am you

I have to keep saying it

Every minute, every hour

I have to say it till I can see it, believe it

I have to say it till I decide all over again to get out

I am her....I am you."



 

Coming to terms with your situation is a very difficult thing to do.  I am not proud of the situation I found myself in as an adult.  But there are two things that I am proud of.  I am proud that I finally stood up to my biological father in college and got a restraining order against him when he went crazy and continued to threaten me, and when I got the strength all three times to leave an abusive relationship as an adult.  Why am I proud that I left three times you might ask.  The first time I left I wasn't really strong enough or convinced enough in my situation to actually leave.  But the second time my resolve was stronger and I had convinced myself that I was going to do things differently when preparing to leave.  It was almost as if the first time was a test run so to speak, I knew what to expect emotionally, and when I came back the first time thing actually got worse not better.  So I decided to journal everything, I remember thinking to myself that the first time I tried to leave I had already forgotten all of the feelings I had during that time, and I wanted to remember what I was going through in the hopes that I could look back on it and possibly use it to help someone one day down the road.

 

 

 

"       That Can't Be Me

 

 

When did I get here

I fell asleep and awoke in someone else's life

I promised myself as a kid I wouldn't grow up and live out this scenario again

This can't be me, who is tis weak, scared, tearful woman

 

That can't be me, I am strong, smiling, loving and happy

Who is this woman who thinks she is worthless

Her face full of shame as she talks to the police...again

She can't make eye contact wanting to hid the redness forming on her face

 

 

I hear her saying it was all her fault

She should never have asked him where he was all night

No No NO...this isn't me

 I thought I found someone who cared, who made me laugh

 

This woman hangs her head in shame over the life she is in

Tears gently fall, she doesn't know when she became so weak

Doesn't remember how she let him make her feel so much fear

She only wanted to be love, but this doesn't look like love at all

 

She doesn't know how she got here

Who is this woman that looks just like her

So full of guilt, denial and shame

I don't know how I got here"

 

At least that is my hope.

As you guessed I did leave and came back.  However I was completely right to keep a journal the second time in the hopes of helping someone else.  What I didn't expect was that person to be me.  You see it wasn't long after I left the second time that my situation turned worse than it had ever been (if that was imaginable).  At one particularly low point I went back and started reading my journal.  Even though I was currently in the same situation hearing myself defend him and blame myself in my past entry, while trying to get myself out of a currently bad situation, was shocking.  Hearing myself talk so horribly about myself and defending someone who hurt me was a complete eye opener.  Somehow that journal was a God-Send to myself.  I felt something finally click and change inside me, the third and final time I made the decision to leave I was embarrassed because I knew I was the woman who left twice, but I also knew that it was different.  I knew that time was the time I was going to change my life and I didn't care what anyone thought of me, I was ready to make a change.  From that point on it wasn't easy, but I didn't look back and I was finally free a short time later.

 

 

"      No More

 

I may not know if I deserve better

But I do know that it ends here

I won't be your punching bag anymore

You don't have a right to yell and call me names

I let you take so much from me, believed it was all my fault

 

No more, I will find a way to be happy

No more laying scared at night behind a locked door

No more yelling, anger and fights

 

It ends now, you won't hurt me anymore

I may be alone forever, never deserving someone to love me

But I won't be your punching bag anymore"

 

 



 

 

The reason I decided to write and share this is because I have been fantastic at hiding my past, and at the time I was great at hiding my present.  The girl who always wore a smile, who always had a positive outlook on life, who was appeared strong and who seemed like they were always happy.  But anyone can be a victim, and it is nobody's fault if they don't see it in someone else.  However this is intended for anyone who is hiding behind a smile, who may not be able to see their situation, or who may be on the verge of trying to get out.

 

 

 

I once was unable to find hope in life, well many times I did not see hope.  I felt like a prisoner, as a child and as an adult, but there is hope.  Everyone has a strength within them that they may not always see, each of us has the instinct of right and wrong, and each of us have to listen to that voice within us at times.  I actually love the quote "You are given this life because you are strong enough to live it", given all the horrible in my life I have still found things I am passionate about, I managed to make my own happy memories in the midst of the worst times in my life, I have grown stronger, I have found a strength I didn't know existed and I have been able to move on finally free from all the negative of my past.  There is always hope, and you don't have to live in shame.

 

 

The slogan for Domestic Violence Awareness is Break the Silence, and I agree that is exactly what needs to be done.  It is real and it happens to those you may least expect. It happens to the strong, the stubborn, the successful, the driven, the motivated, the passionate and even those who wear the largest smiles. Silence is what they all have in common. Fear keeps you paralyzed, and silence keeps it going. But there is a whole new life out there that you deserve.

 

Silence even keeps us afterwards from sharing our experiences to bring awareness. There is no shame in the strength it takes to change your life. I'm beyond blessed to find my happily ever after. This post is not a call for sympathy in the least, but an acknowledgement that I will not keep the circle of silence going.

Break the silence!!

I want to make one very strong clarification hear about my biological father and my Dad.  My biological father and I have not been in contact almost since the restraining order I got in college and he is NOT my dad.  I have an amazing dad, he is my step-dad but this is a term I will rarely ever use to describe him, because he is so much more.  He is and always will be my Dad, he gave me away at my wedding, danced with me, and has been there for me with nothing but love.  My mom and my dad are such a God-Send and have been a pillar of strength and support, and my Dad was the first man to show me what real love was, from the way he treated my mom to the love he had for his daughter (me ;-) ).  I only make this clarification because many in my life now don't really understand my family situation and I want no confusion about the two. 

Thank you for taking the time to read this very long post, I am always available for questions.  This is just a brief summary of my life, as you can imagine life is messy and complicated.  But each of us deserve happiness and sometimes you need to make your own happiness, but it is important to know that no matter what you are going through you are not alone, you are not isolated, and there are people who care about you.  Getting out of a bad situation is very complex, but don't for a second think you deserve it, and if you are telling yourself "I do deserver it" or get mad at anything I have said, then you are just like I was when my mom would tell me what I didn't want to hear about my own situation.  But I promise there is hope, only you can make the decision, nobody can make it for you, and if you have to make it every day or every hour, it is your life and you only get one so try to realize the impossible....you are worth it!!!