Archive for #abusedwomen

MAGNIFICENT COLLISION

Posted in Behind closed doors with tags , , , , , , , , , , on June 27, 2013 by Karen unrue

A friend’s husband of 11 years left her for her best friend.

“What a bastard!” we said.

“Poor girl”

We rallied round.

“We’re so surprised.” We said.

“You two always seemed so good together”.

Days passed and the shock and tears subside.

And then she confesses something that none of us expected.

“Yes this really hurts, but what I have never told you –

Is that he has been abusing me for years. These tears are also for all those times I could never tell you about.”

I wrote this after hearing what she told us.

I wrote it about her,

But also for the 1000’s of women going through abuse silently right now and

Still looking like the perfect couple.

YOU DON’T HAVE TO!

TELL SOMEONE.

YOU DESERVE TO BE SAFE,

TO BE TREATED WITH RESPECT,

AND TO BE LOVED.

MAGNIFICENT COLLISION

It was a magnificent collision.

All twisted metal,

Broken glass,

Blood on the seats.

She hadn’t seen it coming.

He was driving,

He always did the driving.

They thought it was the crash that killed her.

But they were misled.

Distracted by jagged flesh and broken bones

They did not see the damage done during more private incidents.

You see

It was not his leaving that destroyed her

But all the years he stayed.

car wreck

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LOOSENING THE CHAINS

Posted in learning to love yourself again with tags , , , , , , , , , on June 25, 2013 by Karen unrue

chains

I had left my abusive marriage but I was still rocked with self-accusation and, despite knowing better on a rational level, I still blamed myself for his behaviour toward me.

What if I had ….. ?

Maybe if I hadn’t ……!

Perhaps I should have……!

If only I had …… !

One day, several years after leaving, I contacted a domestic abuse organisation and they sent me some literature.

I opened the envelope and when I pulled out the pamphlet and read the title I burst into tears.

“IF YOU HAD BEHAVED BETTER I WOULD NOT HAVE HAD TO PUNISH YOU”

Oh my god!!!

Someone understood!

Someone knew how I was feeling.

I was not alone.

I began to learn that his behaviour had not been a rational response to something I had done or not done.

His treatment of me was abnormal.

It was the beginning of a healing for me.

I could start trying to love myself again.

Here are the lyrics to a song I wrote as my recovery began to take hold.

LOOSENING THE CHAINS

When she emerges from the wreckage she is changed.

In some indefinable way she’s not the same.

And with the healing of her wounds there come the scars,

but there also comes a wisdom in her heart.

From somewhere she found the courage to survive.

But more than that – she re-learned to be alive.

And each breath she takes is like a second wind

And each day – a chance to begin again.

Now she knows

Now it’s understood

That freedom isn’t easy to attain

You only get there through a barrier of pain

But if you persevere – in time you will loose

the chains that hold you hostage to abuse.

Learning to love herself has been the greatest gift

Cos she’s the one she found it hardest to forgive.

But she was young, and as they say, “love is blind”

And trusting him was her only crime.

She doesn’t have to punish herself anymore

Cos she’s not guilty of the things he blamed her for.

And she’s daring to believe that she’s ok

And that the happiness she’s found won’t be snatched away

Now she knows

Now it’s understood

That freedom isn’t easy to attain

You only get there through a barrier of pain

But if you persevere, in time you will loose

the chains that hold you hostage to abuse.

——————————————————–

Walking the road to freedom

Walking the  road into freedom.

THE CONTORTONIST

Posted in domestic abuse with tags , , , , , , , , , on June 24, 2013 by Karen unrue

The man took his new wife to one of the rooms in their home and opened the door.

“Look at this tilted room,” he said.

She turned to him in surprise,

“This room’s not tilted.”

“Yes it is!” he replied.

Thinking he was playing some kind of game – she laughed.

His bottom lip began to tremble and his eyes welled up.

“You really can’t see that this room is tilted?” He insisted

“No, because it’s NOT tilted.” She said.

Her husband then fell to the floor, and lying in the foetal position he began to sob.

“No one has ever seen things the way I see them. I thought you would because you’re my wife – but no! You obviously don’t love me!” He blubbed.

She was confused and concerned and stooped to comfort him.

She reassured him of her love.

 

The incident passed.

 

However, every few days he would again take her to the doorway of the same room.

“Look how tilted this room is.” He’d say.

She would reiterate that she didn’t see a tilted room, just a normal one.

Once again he would end up sobbing on the floor and state that no one had ever understood him, that he’d thought she would be different and love him enough to see things his way.

And again she would stoop down and comfort him.

 

One day, after several weeks of this, she had had enough.

Upon being taken to the doorway of the room again, she said,

“What is wrong with you? The room is NOT tilted!”

When his bottom lip began to tremble she lost patience with him.

“Oh yes! Go ahead and cry! That will solve everything!” She said.

His lip hardened and his face changed.

He slammed her hard up against the wall, made a fist and held it in front of her face.”

“IF I SAY THE ROOM IS TILTED THEN THE ROOM IS TILTED! DO YOU UNDERSTAND YOU FUCKING BITCH!”

He turned her to face the room.

“LOOK!” he said.

She was terrified.

He had never behaved like this before.

 

She lowered herself onto one knee,

Bent herself sideways,

And tilted her head.

 

Now the room looked tilted.

 

“Yes I see.” She said quietly.

 

And from that moment on she did.

 

Because the only thing that stopped him getting angry was seeing things his way.

 

Seeing the tilted room.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Vennie Kocsis

The life and times of a cult child

Ramblings of Ruin

A collection of stories.

Life In Detox

Recovery Blogger. Sober AF. Photographer. Storyteller. Writer.

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