Some of you might recall the blog post I did on self-healing, and one of the suggestions I made to write. If you have not had the chance to read this post, please do. Writing has always been one of the greatest outlets I have used to get through things, move forward, and communicate messages when I could not speak them out clearly.
So I want to write about the time I was scared for my life. I want to write about it because I am aware this is a deeply lodged block that was brought to the surface during a healing session with a dear friend, and when advised to face it I clamped up again. It is not going to be dealt with through excessive tears, reliving every single detail of that moment alone in my head, or sharing the story with someone face to face. I further realize this is not about forgiving the other person because I already have, years ago; it is about forgiving myself. Finally. Time to forgive, in entirety…
I forgive myself for allowing someone to treat me in a way I did not deserve to be treated. I did not deserve to be treated this way. I did not deserve to be treated this way.
I did not deserve to be treated this way.
I forgive myself for not getting the hell out when I had those opportunities I stayed. When my friends reached out their hand and I high fived back my being okay instead of letting them hold it and take it and take me away. And I stayed. I forgive myself for dropping out of school and spending every moment I had to spare with him because he declared college wasn’t for me. I forgive myself for keeping my mouth shut and apologizing when I knew he had cheated but yelled at me for knowing he had cheated on me. Yes it appears that I cheated on you, but I didn’t. I did. I forgive myself for not wearing lipstick years after because he said it looked horrible on me. I never liked it, but now the colors are muted, or so bright because with you all I knew was one or the other. You made me quiet with my light. You made me quiet. This one…oh you really got me with this one. I forgive myself. For not singing in the car or shower when you were around because you said I had a terrible voice. No Mariahs here but, fuck you-it was and still is my ultimate outlet. And I rock it.
Most of all I forgive myself for believing I was so unworthy that I stayed with someone who made me scared for my life one night. Around my neck tight. Yelling at me, laughing at the same time I was grabbing hands and trying to pull them away. What if I scratched him. But then he might get more mad. So this is what it feels like to lose more than my voice. I hope I don’t have a mark on my neck. Another excuse, like the bump on my forehead. He let me go. When we walked into that Safeway and I had mascara running down my face, my hair disheveled. I looked in the mirror at that dirty Midtown Safeway bathroom and could not recognize myself.
I didn’t know what had just happened, but I knew he was waiting.