Lights At The End Of Tunnels

Lights at the end of tunnels

From time to time I receive messages from survivors at various stages in the recovery process.  

First, I am honoured that you trust me with your stories (some of you telling someone for the first time!), and that you think I may have something of value to say to you.

Second, I’m sorry I don’t always respond promptly.  I can get overwhelmed easily and that slows my response time.  Sometimes by, like, months.

Third, if there is one thing I wish I could have convinced myself of earlier it would be that being alone is not the worst.  It takes practice, but it can be pretty great.

You are awesome (yes, I promise), and spending time nurturing your interests can be an amazing part of your healing.  Someone tried to erase my personality; I took it back, piece by piece, doing new things or re-discovering the old ones that make me happy.  

Being beholden to no one is freedom, and it was important for me to get to know, sort out, and trust my head again.

Alone there are so many possibilities that don’t exist in the vacuum of an abusive relationship.  So many possibilities for a content, peaceful existence. 

I hope you believe me.

Happy New Year.

I could have learned more if I hadn't been so afraid all the time.

i would have learned, you know. i know violence teaches, and it teaches well. but i would have learned without it.

I picked a day where i was too exhausted from working around the house to care much and threw them out.

Another piece of him has been wiped from my life .

He did not understand sentimental value. I keep little things that people give me or that remind me of special times.

Some people keep pictures in this way. These things are fabrics in the tapestry of your history But not to him. Junk. Hoarding. Wasting space.

His mom gave him old pictures of him and his family. He didn't care and was really angry when I insisted we keep them. So he made me hold on to them, and here I am still holding on to them out of guilt.

These things are all sacred. I am having such a terrible time trying to throw them out.

For those of you still stuck in an impossible situation, I promise you can also have a quiet little life. Amd you deserve it.

A life where you won't find yourself involuntarily holding your breath when they come into a room. A life where you don't have to question what you remember or what you think. A life where people make you feel comfortable and confident in who you are.

There is a life out there that doesn't include them. I hope that soon you'll believe that, even with its challenges, that life will be beautiful and so much better than the hell you're living now.

I hope that for all of you.

She's upstairs baking while I'm in the basement wrapping presents. I keep laughing as I'm scrambling to hide her gifts every time she comes down to make me do 'quality control."

Four years ago I couldn't even imagine a life this peaceful.

i would have learned, you know. i know violence teaches, and it teaches well. but i would have learned without it.

Joyless Giving

The holidays have some truly terrible memories for me, but every year was miserable with a person like him.

Giving him gifts filled me with such dread.  He was so particular. If he didn’t like a gift, he'd tell you and he’d also berate you for being stupid. This wasn’t exclusive to me, but it was heightened to dangerous levels for me.

I would call him a spoiled brat if his hissy fits weren’t so terrifyingly violent.

Sometimes he was easy and said “This is what I want.” It may put me in debt, but at least I wasn’t going to be spit-screamed at.

Other years it was “buy me a new wardrobe” and refusing to answer follow up questions. I was panic-stricken; making the wrong decisions was Bad™, and with such vague instructions I was destined to mess something up.

I used to like giving gifts, but now I approach it with apprehension. He took the joy out of it. 

He took the joy out of everything.