Tag Archives: Abuse

Damaged Heart

You may be capable of forgiving, but the forgetting part is out of your hands. Forgiveness is nothing to scoff at though, it takes a hell of a person with a mighty generous heart to experience some type of traumatizing betrayal and accept an apology. And people can be ruthless, so it’s not a given that you’ll even receive an apology at all. It forces us to deal with the wrongdoings internally before we can move on with life. Still — as difficult as forgiving may be, it’s ultimately up to you. The forgetting however, is not.

People seem less and less thoughtful about their actions. A moment of pleasure is constantly being chosen over potential years of reliability and happiness. Then, when the flash of indulgence is over, consideration for what has been done begins. People may start to feel bad; others may just feel scared that the truth will come out. For some it will take being caught to find out, for others, their conscious forces them to confess, but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less.

So whatever happened is now carved into your brain. It has left an unpleasantly deep wound that hurts regardless or apologies, excuses or explanations. You’re officially damaged and what people fail to realize is that it’s permanent. Playing with emotions, cheating, screwing people over, breaking trust – these things are taken lightly nowadays, and I can’t fathomwhy. When you do any of those things to a person, you are leaving them emotionally disabled for some time. We rehabilitate and when we do eventually “get over” things, all that means is that we’ve figured out a way to walk without each step hurting. But we’re well aware that if we walk a certain way, it might tweak the previous injury. Or even worse, tear the same wound wide open.

The lasting effects are simply inevitable.  You’ve learned to get along pain free because you walk with a limp to remain comfortable — and after so long, you make a habit of it. It’s second nature to get by the way you get by, until someone comes along and makes you consider trying that old method. The technique that broke you in the first place.

It can be hard, especially if the person trying to sweep you off your feet is doing everything so freakin’ perfect. It’d almost be better if they’d just mess up or show some awful red flag so we can get out of being vulnerable early on. Happiness with a person is too good to be true — it’s unfathomable that a person is genuinely concerned over you and has no ulterior motives that’ll cut you down eventually. That’s when we realize the extend of the previous damage, and just how broken we are. At times, a previously shattered heart has absolutely no idea how to respond to genuine care and affection, which is truly unfortunate. The person or people from the past who’ve hurt you still linger, even long after they’re gone.

One time is all it takes. Once you’ve been damaged, you don’t fully recover, so much as you teach yourself to cope. The wounds are there, the lessons are learned, the memories are engraved, and you’ve got to decide if you want to do it all over again – or if you’re even capable of that. A damaged heart is tentative and that’s got to be clear to anyone seeking to win you over. On your own time, as you’re ready, you’ll have to drop the crutches, dip your toes in to test the waters, and, when the time is right, love hard as you loved before.

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Rihanna in Elle UK


Rihanna graces the cover of the April issue of ELLE UK. She unapologetically states she intends to keep Chris Brown in her life. While skimming through Twitter I came across several comments such as:

“Guess being a role model to other girls/women isn’t important to her. Live your life, including the results of bad decisions. Less being a role model to other girls/women isn’t important to her. Live your life.”
“She ought to be embarrassed of herself.”
I am not ashamed to say I am a HUGE Rihanna fan. I am also not ashamed to say I am far from disappointed or judgmental of her choice to continue her relationship with Brown. I do believe it is time to forgive Brown.

First let me say in no way am I condoning abuse (physical or emotional). I’ve witnessed many occurrences, and to an extent I do believe once a beater always a beater. However, I also believe every saint has a pass and every sinner has a future. Yes I am aware of the statistics. I am aware that every nine seconds a woman is assaulted or beaten. I am aware that domestic violence is the leading cause of injury to women. But who are we to judge Rihanna for her decisions?

Lets paint a vivid picture. At the time the incident transpired between Brown and Fenty, Brown was 19-years-old. I don’t know about you, but at 19-years-old I surely made A LOT of mistakes. Just imagine the worst thing you’ve done in your teens and you are now subjected to scrutiny for it, not just for one year, but four. For the last four years he has been ridiculed, outcasted and shunned. The Bible discusses the act of forgiving is —if not—the single most important thing.

Although forgiveness is easier said than done, it is imperative that we (as well as Brown) begin to practice forgiveness. When you acknowledge your unacceptable behavior many of us begin to bear a grudge against the person in the mirror. Have it ever occurred that many of Brown’s outbursts is perhaps his way of bearing his own guilt and/or regret. How can we expect him to grow up and take responsibility when society continues to shun him for his errors? People do not grow in isolation. We can only grow with human social development. By not forgiving Brown we are disobeying God’s commandments.

For those who may not be spiritual or religious simply ask yourself wouldn’t you want to be forgiving? So now you are thinking should we forgive all assailants? Yes! Because you cannot truly move forward with your life until you have truly forgiven those who trespassed against you. I am not saying every relationship should be rekindled. I am saying forgiveness is a main component in healing.

I do agree he has a temperament that should be addressed with therapy and anger management. However, I do believe it is time to forgive Brown and address his issues with love and not hate.

In addition, I must address the role model issue. I do understand once you become a celebrity you sign on the invisible line that states like it or not you are now a role model. Nonetheless, it is imperative that we help our children discern right from wrong. Because it works for Rihanna, does not mean that is what you should do. Each individual’s life is different and we must tailor our decisions based on our understanding and experience. Parents, teachers, mentors, advisors must teach our children it is okay to have a favorite celeb but it is not okay to make decisions based off their actions.

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“She’s so pretty,” the words every girl wants to hear about herself. However, it is what she believes about herself that is more important. It is where she defines her beauty that actually makes her attractive. Beauty goes beyond skin deep. It goes into the depths of a woman’s soul. The most radiant women light up a room when they exude confidence. They shine when they operate from the inside out and they leave you wanting.
The woman who is average in the looks department or even less than, may hide her beauty. She willingly betrays her feminine side as she puts in little to no effort to accentuate her God given allure. She down plays her appearance as it has become an evil bane to be avoided. Rejection stings like a blistering sunburn. She covers herself up or avoids light altogether. While she protects herself from such hurt she also squelches her free spirit.
Why is that so many strong women come across as closed off, uptight, and pretentious? She may be well dressed, up-kept, organized, and assertive, yet she is intimidating. She can put off an aura of invulnerability. A vast majority of men find her intimidating and thereby avoid her. This woman lives under an umbrella even when the sun is out, not being admired and adored for there strengths. She may even begin to pretend she is ugly.
Other females who are educated and have intellectual thoughts can become torn and even annoyed with those who live at a superficial level. The overemphasized outward beauty and the under appreciated inward development causes us to question our world’s priorities. Pink’s song “Stupid girls” is a prime example, “She’s so pretty, that just ain’t me.”
We all know these women. The cute girl with a pretty face and a gorgeous, hot body. She is easy to be envious of. She emanates sex appeal. She has desirability. She’s been endowed with the art of seduction without trying. Life seems to come easy for her. She acts carefree, happy, silly, and innocent as boys linger at her every word… or so it appears. However, her beauty is fleeting and her charm is deceptive. Her insecurities are endless and her fears overwhelming. Her identity is based on something temporal, therefore it is only a matter of time before her value depreciates quicker than the US dollar.
But being acknowledged for her physical appearance has brought her a long way. Many like the Kim Kardashians of the world are beautiful and even business minded, yet the remain shallow. With no depth of person, she has no deep well in which to draw from. She may be moved with compassion by the latest “social justice” fads, but she herself is starving for truth. Though she is gorgeous with a mind of her own, often times she simply does not develop it. She overcompensates with materialism as her looks have become her primary facet. Her world crumbles as she ages. Like the queen in Snow White she grasps for potions and seeks the fountain of youth.
On the other hand, the Jenny McCarthys use their beauty as a platform. Though she may flaunt her outward beauty, it has become a vehicle to gain the attention of her real worth of being an articulate educator. In this juxtaposition, she develops an “I don’t give a F**k attitude” which tends to sting like a slap in the face if one payed her a genuine compliment. They fall to the floor as she has no container in which to hold them. She utterly believes her beauty is not a virtue to be extolled, but a weakness to be exploited. It is often her knee jerk reaction to a cruel life of abuse where she does what she has to to survive. She plays the part, but struggles with love. As in John Mclaughlin’s song, She feels “…there is no difference betweens the lies and compliments if everyone leaves her.”
It is the Marilyn Monroes of society who have become the most self-destructive. Her desire to “belong”, to be “wonderful”, to be loved for “herself” are her driving motivations. Her self inflicted torment and torture engrosses her being. It only takes a simple read through Marilyn’s famous quotes to hear the longings of her heart. We find the root of her pain in her statement – “No one ever told me I was pretty when I was a little girl. All little girls should be told they’re pretty, even if they aren’t.”
What is in her mind has become her reality. Like in Inception she can no longer distinguish fantasy from reality. Unless she chooses to believe the truth, not her presuppositions and reasonings, but the true truth, she will be consumed by the lies she accepts to sleep with. Riddled with shame and filled with unbridled pain she has no place for her heart to call home.
She sell her priceless treasures for mere money, or gives them away for free simply because she does not know her worth. She is not willing to wait for someone to pay the cost. She believes there is no one who will put in the effort to pursue her heart. She desires respect and appreciation, yet she opens the door to thieves. She acts desperate and violates her own heart by not holding out for an offer of real love.
She is the girl who lives in constant comparison to others. She lives in lack and hurts the most believing she will always fall short. She can try and try to the best of her ability but she will never be good enough to be genuinely wanted. She may have wisps of affection, echoes of love, and muddy reflections of respect, but in the end she dies alone.
Are we as women destined to do one of these things? Do we quit before we start, saving ourselves from a world of hurt? Do we preemptively decide there is no hope for us and simply forfeit? Or do we strive for unattainable perfection thereby validating our inadequacies and ultimately throwing out any all real beauty we possess? How is it we live with no hope, no attainable aspirations, and no trust in the truth? How has our beauty become our own worst enemy?
In my all time favorite movie “Pretty Woman” eventually the girl finally gets it. She reminds me much of myself: red hair, big smile, loves cars, and independent. She doesn’t use drugs and has a head full of dreams. She, like the me of the past, also did not know her worth. Through the process of experiencing love and letting go of fears, she realizes she is destined to be more than a call girl. She wants it all, and finally, when she discovers who she is, she is willing to wait for someone who will give her everything. Her time has come to be seen, to be heard, and to be known.
Though there may have been abuses in our lives, we can not live in blame of others. More precisely, we cannot live in blame of men. Though we have been neglected, overlooked, or under appreciated, ultimately we are responsible for our own actions. What we do in life is a direct response to what we believe. If we seek approval from the outside in we will continually be working on our outsides. If our certainty is from a strong internal foundation from the inside out, we then glow simply because of who we are.

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The Past

I’ve been asked, over the years, if, in order to recover from trauma, one needs to talk through every detail of the trauma. Honestly? I don’t think so. In fact, rehashing every single detail of whatever trauma you’ve been through can be re-traumatizing.

In terms of DID it’s a little more complicated. This, I imagine, would vary from system to system. I know I don’t remember everything that’s happened to me – I have years that are completely blank, aside from knowing where I lived and a few fragmented memories. I know it’s normal not to remember everything from your childhood, and I don’t expect to. It’s just that I have large amounts of time that are blank.

There is a period of time from age seven to nine years old that is incredibly vague. I do remember some things about school, very little about friends, and only a couple of memories of being at home. Given that some of my alters fall into that age bracket, I can safely guess that there was trauma at that age.

I want to know what happened. I want to fill in the gaps. I want to know what I’ve missed. In saying that, I don’t want to know all the details of the abuse. I’d like to know the extent of the abuse, but in mater-of-fact terms as opposed to gory details in the form of flashbacks and body memories.

For my own recovery I don’t think I need to know the details. In saying that, my parts probably do need to talk about some details. I’d just rather not know about it. That is somewhat possible for me because I’m not always co-conscious with all my parts.

It’s not easy though. Accepting that “bad stuff” happened is hard. I can say “bad stuff” happened. That still allows me to hide in denial a little bit. Saying I was “sexually abused”, even “abused” can be too much. That’s very confronting and often overwhelming. It fills me with horror and a deep, deep sadness. When those feelings become too much to cope with I’ll dissociate. Any distance from the reality of my history is a relief. There are, however, other parts that can talk about it.

They can say it’s sad or scary. Tell someone that they didn’t like it, that it was mean or different things hurt. I can’t talk about it. It scares me. Scares me so, so much. This is how it goes in my head when someone external raises the topic:

“No, no, no, no. Nothing happened. Nothing. Never. Nope. not me. Not here. Didn’t happen. Can’t hear you. Not hearing you. Not going to cry. You won’t stop. That’s it. I’m leaving. Done. Gone. Fading. Relief. Mind is slowing. Everything is okay now. Quiet. Interesting pattern on the carpet. I can see a face… no, not quite. Hmmm. Oh. You’re saying something. What? Oh… hmm. I’m not sure. No. I don’t want to move. Moving is scary. Still is safer. No, don’t touch me. Please leave me alone. Let me sit. Have escaped from the bad. Don’t bring it back. Don’t make it real again. Okay… I have to move or you’ll call an ambulance. Oh hell no! Not hospital. Please no. Don’t make me go. I don’t want them touching me. So scared. Must move. Foot… move. Can’t quite feel my body. It won’t move. I’m trying. I’m sorry. So scared.”

That… that, is what happens in my head. Sometimes that is what will lead to a catatonic episode. When that happen my mind slows down even more and I’m even more unable to respond to people.

I suppose, in short, rehashing trauma can be incredibly unhelpful and damaging. It’s, generally, not something that needs to be done. Clients absolutely need to move at their own pace (with gentle encouragement) and be in control of the process.

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The Truth

What do you do when the man you love won’t touch you? This is something I experienced when I was with my ex four years ago.

Won’t kiss you or hug you without being asked.  Tells you that you could lose some weight. Tells you that you are an unhappy and angry person and seems to avoid spending time with you. What do you do when you fight so much you dread spending time with some one because you know it will only end in tears?

That’s how I felt. Stuck in a relationship that hadn’t just died; it was rotting.

No one should ever have to feel as I felt. To feel like you are a horrible person inside and out. To feel like you repulse someone. To feel alone. As my relationship got worse I tried to invest more and more into it distancing myself from my friends in the hopes spending more time with him could fix things. It didn’t help. Things only got worse and I found myself unable to talk about it with anyone. The worst part for me was that he wasn’t intentionally trying to hurt me. He just wouldn’t think and just tell me these things and regret it later.

Even after breaking up I  was still left with all of these things circling my head. Taunting me.

To know the person you loved, whom you trusted could feel and say such things to you knocks you down.

I didn’t feel I could tell people. I was worried about making him look bad and worried they would think I was just being mean after the break up. I didn’t know how to explain that I felt empty as a person. Plain. Like there was nothing special or interesting about me.  On bad days I get afraid to even have a conversation with some one in-case I bore them or I appear empty. I know it’s stupid but it’s going to take time.

I don’t think I am the person he said I was. I think that sometimes people can just be bad for one another and bring out the worst in us. For now I am happy to be alone and working of feeling good about myself again. Feeling like a real person; an exciting person. My friends are great and coming home has helped a lot in reminding me who I am. I’m sure there is a guy out there somewhere who can see past my faults and love me for the good parts but until them I’m going to just keep chugging along and treating everyday as a new start.

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To You!

To my rapist,

The last time you saw me, I was vulnerable, I was your victim and I was scared. You had the upper hand over me and you were fully aware of it. You didn’t have much freedom left from the time you let me out of that car, what was it, about 24 hours? Ever since that day, you have been in police custody and remand, but it has been of little comfort to me, as I too am living in a prison. Do you realise I can no longer walk down a street by myself without being on the verge of a panic attack? That is in the middle of the day, I don’t know if I ever will be able to walk at night by myself again. Do you realise I have to pass the point where you kidnapped me, every single day? And do you even care? You have had your freedom taken from you and so have I. The difference is, that night, all I did was try and walk home. You threatened, kidnapped and raped me.

I saw you this week, in court, where you pleaded guilty for everything you put me through. Like on our first meeting, I was still scared and I was still technically your victim. BUT, you are now at the mercy of the British Legal system, and my strength and courage has won over your cowardice and control. I did not cry when I saw you as I would not give you the satisfaction. I was able to see you as the pathetic, pitiful excuse for a man you are, and I have realised you have damaged your own life as much as mine. The difference is, I can make mine better and I can try and put this event further and further into my memory, as time progresses. You don’t have that luxury now, as you are a convicted rapist. You are on the sex offenders register, and you will never get away from that. But I will get away from you.

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Letter To My Ex

I would love to write this down and send it to you, but the idea of opening a social channel to you again makes me angry and scared all at once. I am finally rid of you and I never want you back in my life again. I know you tend to drop by here every now and again, lurking. Checking up on me was something you were always great at. Theres a million things I want to say to you, a million things I have said but I don’t think you understood it to the full extent. To say I hate you would be an understatement, I’d love to say you’re nothing to me because really you are nothing…but your presence in my life has affected me greatly. I sit here with angry tears rolling down my face knowing that you’ve probably moved on and are entirely happy, never thinking about anything that happened, you said you’d always love and miss me, I bet that feeling has passed. I want you to know that although I don’t care for you and am in a very happy relationship I can see going somewhere amazing…I haven’t moved on, I still hear those horrible words you called me, I still feel your hands grabbing me, I still hear you shouting, I still see you’re evil eyes – those ones I saw when you turned up at my house, I still feel that anger when I think about you, as if your still here. I still get mad if people ask me more questions than I think they should, it makes my jaw clench and my teeth grind. I hate how you’ve made me feel about myself, I can’t shake it. Every so often I look in the mirror and see a horrible ugly evil little slut looking back at me. That was you’re favourite nickname for me wasn’t it? Are you happy that it’s stuck? I don’t see me anymore! You’ve made me lose all confidence in myself. I always pick on something because thats what you’ve made me used to. I know no one is perfect but you made me feel so fucking far away from it. Thats what I hate the most.

Everything else you’ve done to me, I’ve dealt with. It may not be healed, but I’ve dealt with it. I want that fun, loving, bubbly girl back. That’s all I want. She used to be able to talk to everyone, she spoke a lot better than I do, she wasn’t nervous about meeting new people, she didn’t take hours to get ready and still feel shit. She spent years building up her confidence and she had learned to love herself, just before you came along to destroy her. I have pictures of her with her friends all over my room, none of me. They are all of her, that girl thats no longer around. She was always smiling and laughing, please give her back to me.

This may sound crazy, but I also want to thank you. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t appreciate the relationship I have now. He never once questions anything I do. He looks at me with such love as if he is looking at his most priced possession, as if there is nothing else in the world. He never pushes me or fights, he knows who I am and he loves me that way. You pushed me to him and for that I am forever grateful. You made me open my eyes. You made me realise that everything I ever wanted was right beside me since I was 12 years old. His very first words to me were “you’re beautiful”, he tells me all the time. He never tells me I’m an evil bitch, or ugly or that I deserve to die. I hope you realize now how you’ve made me feel. I hope I learn to like myself again, I hope I get myself back and I hope I never see/hear from you again.

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