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    • #43844
      Pondlife
      Participant

      A glimmer of hope.

      June is a new month. I am up watching the election results and it looks like we are on the cusp of massive political change, hopefully a fairer country, where our struggles aren’t met with closed doors and where our children don’t go to school hungry.

      I have out of my abusive relationship for more than a month. I thought I would never be able to leave. That I would hold on, glass eyed and terrified, apologising for my tiny misdeameanours, justifying his behaviour, until he finally did what he threatened to do and smash me. But I left and I didn’t go back this time.

      I have managed to reconnect with wonderful friends and my family. Ihave a new partner. I would have been flabbergasted if a few months ago someone had predicted that by June I would be free from constant surveillance and scrutiny and hatred, that I would have someone by my side gentle guiding me up the bumpy steep slope from victim to survivor. I no longer have to be scared. There are people out there who love other people in a kind and gentle way, without owning them or having to hurt them.

      I go through periods of darkness as well as almost manic elation. I am not out of the woods yet. I have written on this forum just a few days ago about the weirdness of the post abuse aftermath, how words and scenes cling to you and won’t be cast off. But today I wrote this poem and felt so happy and optimistic.

      Please… Survivors. I know it’s so hard to leave and so infuriating when people gloss over that. But it is important to remember that there is a better life out there. You don’t deserve to be treated the way you are.

      Anyway enough bleating. Here is the poem

      Like a tall person
      curled in a self conscious stoop
      My body was flinch frozen
      My words were tiny and terrified

      For two years
      I’d cower
      I’d anticipate hate
      I tried to hide my face

      I would anticipate hate,
      carefully craft
      each sentence
      agonise over every comma
      to escape offense
      to minimise damage.
      ‘Sent’ would be
      pressed tentatively.
      When I spoke I almost
      tried to suck back in
      the words.

      The words would be chewed up
      spat out
      shamed for their
      ugliness.
      I would apologise
      and hate myself for
      my mistakes.

      Now I speak
      I joke, I pontificate
      I tease, i speculate…
      and I am waiting
      for the words to be jumped upon
      for flood gates to fly open

      But there is no hate
      You just listen
      Smile
      Respond gently
      The air is full of our words
      beautiful, free, juicy words
      and our love.

    • #43845
      lilaclady
      Participant

      This is amazing I love this post thank you!

    • #43846
      lover of no contact
      Participant

      Beautiful poem.

      Thankyou Pondlife for the encouragement and hope.

      Free speech- so true.

      Even my speech wasn’t free. I was bound in so many ways, one of them is not being able to speak freely, as you so well describe. Moat of the time I expressed myself I was put-down, criticized, had to listen to a sarcasm or a hostile tone of voice. My opinions shot down. My ideas dismissed. No regard for my preferences, wants or needs.

      My conversations with my abuser were not real. They were a complete waste of my time looking back. They just weren’t real. He had a hidden agenda. I took him at face-value. I didn’t know he was non-stop manipulating me. Even when he was being ‘nice’ or ‘not abusive’, this was fake. He was only being nice to keep me in the relationship, to lower my defences so he could get his ‘high’ from hurting/abusing me again.

    • #43876
      Serenity
      Participant

      Wonderful poem, Pond Life, and very hard-hitting.

      I was never anything like a chatterbox in the early days, but as he crossed more and more boundaries, I began to protest. He told me he wished I wasn’t able to speak(!).

      Even when I was just chatting about normal stuff, he wasn’t interested. He looked bored, restless. He’d pooh pooh my ideas, as if he thought my opinions were worthless. His ears only pricked up when it was about something he might benefit from.

      I was so traumatised after we split, part of my shock was to seriously think about voluntarily becoming mute! See how they mess with your heads and make you feel that you shouldn’t possess basic rights?!

      Here’s to speaking when we want and about the subjects we choose, and not being too fearful to say what we think. x

    • #44488
      Pondlife
      Participant

      Thanks all for your kind words but so sad for what you have been through. The censorship and self censorship that happens in abuse… It’s horrendous. Much love to you all x*x

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