When the Devil Dies the Demons Linger on…

butterfly let go

A few days ago my mom sent me a message saying “he passed away”… Since I read that sentence I’ve been in a physically fully functioning emotional coma… I’m going through the motions of life… Working, socialising, going through the daily requirements… but inside..? Inside I’m frozen… I’m dead… I just don’t know how to react…

You see… “he” is the devil who stole my childhood… who, for 6 years, from 3 – 9 years of age, abused me, terrorized me, and threatened my family if I were to say anything… So, I never did… My wings were clipped and I just carried the weight of guilt and shame with me well into my 30s…

Burdon

Until I read that sentence “he passed away” I honestly thought I had dealt with it, I thought I had moved on, I truly thought I had healed… And now, here I sit… feeling like I am a little kid again… lost and scared… Add on angry and full of regret…

On some level I wish I had confronted him, my demon, yelled at him for taking away my innocence… for filling me with shame filled self loathing, which in turn led me to 15ish years of self destruction… drugs, promiscuity, suicide attempts… and yet, what good would that do? He wouldn’t have cared… if he apologised… would that make me feel better? Would it, in fact, heal me, give me closure? Probably not, his smirk, his arrogance, it most likely would have killed me…

So, I guess I have a lot more work to do than I had thought… a lot more healing, a lot more coping… I need to find a way to allow forgiveness into my heart… a way to forgive myself and to forgive him… I can’t keep dragging this boulder of hatred around with me… I am better than that… better, stronger, smarter, more beautiful… I just need to allow my wings to be set free…

 

free butterfly

Why I stayed…

1991…

The first three months were like a dream… we saw each other almost every day…. he called me every night to wish me sweet dreams…. he brought me flowers… took me on wonderful and exciting adventures… he was perfect…

Then one day in 1991 it all came crashing down… Garth Brooks released Ropin’ the Wind and I had to work late to put the display together for sale in the morning…. I called him, my angel on earth, he didn’t answer so I left him a message telling him I wouldn’t be home until late… I told him I loved him…. I told him I’d call him as soon as I got home….

11pm I pulled into my driveway and stood in front of a very angry man… fuming… He took my keys, opened the door to the house and pulled me inside with so much fury I almost fell to my knees… The next hour was a blur as this 6’6” stranger stood over me, yelling in a whisper, a very loud and terrifying whisper… Telling me he owned me, that I wasn’t allowed to stray from the order of things without his ok… when I finally was allowed to speak, through my sobbing tears, I explained I had called him, he wasn’t home and I left a message… Apparently, him not being home, not getting my message, well…. it was my fault…. And yet I stayed…

The next day flowers arrived at my work, with a note… “I still love you”… I interpreted it as “I am sorry for last night, I love you” and things went back to normal… So I stayed…

As the weeks went on my mistakes seemed to increase… As did his temper… the whispers turned to yelling… the yelling turned to humiliation…. and then came the first slap… it came out of nowhere… and it concluded with… “Next time, you will think twice”… and I did, I thought twice, three times… a hundred times… I thought, “What am I doing to anger him so much?” I paid such close attention to each situation… I stopped talking unless he asked questions… I stopped going out… I stopped my life and only focused on what would please him… and yet the slapping turned to hitting… the hitting turned to punching… the punching…. it turned to burning…. And yet I stayed…

When I left him, it wasn’t my choice… he had beaten me so badly I couldn’t stop throwing up, my eye was swollen shut and my nose was broken… my friends made me leave… They took away my right to choose because… I wanted to stay…

I write this, not for sympathy, but for those who keep asking women, like Janay Palmer, Ray Rice’s wife, why the hell would you stay with someone like that? While I can’t speak for anyone but me… I’m guessing it’s a similar story… A friend of mine stated he thought she was staying because of his money…. I know his intention wasn’t to hit me where it hurts, but that’s exactly what his comment did…

Perhaps for some, it’s what they get out of it… But for most, it’s what we put into it… I stayed because of a number of reasons:

1. Because I thought he loved me…
2. Because I thought I loved him…
3. Because that’s what I thought love was…
4. Because I never once, not even for a fraction of a second, thought he was in the wrong…
5. Because I was convinced, I deserved it…
6. Because I was convinced I kept making mistakes and he was teaching how not to…
7. Because I believed, if I can change, if I can finally get it right, he’ll stop…
8. Because I believed his apologies…
9. Because I didn’t think I could do any better… or didn’t know there was better out there…
10. Because I hated myself…
11. Because I hated myself…
12. Because I hated myself…
13. Because I hated myself…
14. Because I hated myself…
15. Because I hated myself…
16. Because I hated myself…
17. Because I hated myself…
18. Because I hated myself…
19. Because I didn’t know how to love myself…
20. So…. I stayed….

There are a myriad of reasons why we stay… a million reasons why we don’t leave… and sadly while we are in the thick of it we can’t see clearly, we can’t see we deserve better, we keep on hating ourselves, allowing the torture, the torment, the violence, the humiliation… we allow it to continue…

I’m left with scars on my thighs from cigar burns, scars on my vagina from cigarette burns, a scar on my chin from a punch with his ring on and because he broke my nose I snore so loudly I wake myself up every night… for close to 20 years I didn’t take my clothes off in front of a man with the lights on, I never left the house without covering the scar on my chin with makeup (honestly, I still don’t), I couldn’t look at myself without feeling the shame…

It wasn’t until I turned 40 did I make the conscious decision to right all the wrongs I’ve gone through…. to speak up and speak loud, to fight for my sisters who are staying… whatever their reasons are… to heal myself, to love myself, to forgive myself… an unending process, but one I won’t give up on…. It took me 20 years to get to this point and I plan on growing, evolving, changing every day, I’m not staying anymore….

A Lover’s Tiff…? Nope… Violent wife abuser? Yip!

Please watch this video, and then read on…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5hsX2MAW-gQ

Isn’t this sweet, simply a “lovers tiff”, according to Nigella Lawson’s husband, Charles Saatchi, he was emphasizing a point to her and the photos misrepresent that… so do the tears in her eyes, the fear and terror on her face…. and what I am sure are big giant bruises left behind… Yip, just a misrepresented lovers tiff… I am so glad he cleared that up….

If this is what he does out in broad daylight, in public, on the patio of a restaurant, what does he do to her in the privacy of their home, and what does he do to their kids?

Violence is not based on a certain social structure, or economic class, or on education, or lack there of, it’s based on people who are sick, who thrive off of dominating the weaker sex, who feel it’s their right to do what they want to their ‘possessions’, it’s a power thing, it’s a thing full of hate and anger, it’s got to stop…. It is NOT the victims fault, it’s not as simple as ‘well, why she doesn’t pack the kids up and leave’ and anyone who says so needs to stand in these women and children’s shoes, just for one day… To see the scars, physical and emotional…. to see the years of emotional abuse, that have broken them to the point where they feel there is no place to turn… no one who can help, and that it is their fault….

It’s our fault, who ever had the damn camera should have put it down, gone over there and put a stop to the obvious abuse…. Someone should have stopped it…. plain and simple, no ifs ands or buts… you see someone being hurt, you stop it, you call the cops if you are at risk, but you make damn sure you don’t leave that situation until the person is safe….At the very least the person with the camera should have stood in front of him, so Charles (Mr. Lovers Tiff) could at least see his actions were recorded and he would stop… Somehow, some way, it is our absolute duty to protect those who cannot protect themselves…  And whether the victim is a famous, rich, white female, or an impoverished person of colour; whether they are sitting outside a fancy, expensive restaurant or if they are in the park in the poorer section of town… if they are being hurt we step in…. we help… end of story.