It’s the hardest thing to come face to face with the ruins of your life. It can be easier to just stow them away in an attic and close the door. But this doesn’t deal with them. This doesn’t shine a light on the devastation. It does not allow you to dust them off, hold them with love, and let them go.
When the time comes for you to be ready to move on from your past, and the only way to embrace the future is to put your demons to rest. Today I want to deal with one of these demons.
I know I am by no means the only woman to suffer damage at the hands of a man, whether it be physical or emotional. And I know that no amount of writing can ever heal these wounds, but for me it’s a way to start the healing.
I find in my quieter moments that it is not the hurt, the criticism or blame that remains, for I now know these things were not real, but a manipulation. The real pain lies in the unexpressed emotions, and the repressed anger at the injustice of it. I can feel this in my body – crawling under my ribs, sticking in my joints and strangling my heart. The perpetrator is gone, but without the ability to face him and express my anger, these stuck emotions still torment me.
I want to ask him why he felt it was fair to blame every little thing on me. I want to tell him that it was not okay to attack me just because he was feeling hurt. I want to remind him of all the things he said were wrong with me, should he still be surprised about why I expected him to be relieved when I left. I want to show him how much he held me down and held me back from my fullest potential and strength. I want him to reap the backlash of trying to diminish another in an effort to make himself feel big. I want to explain that love is about adoring someone for who they are, not in spite of it.
I want him to feel the thousands little hurts that he inflicted on my heart. Each little cut, scratch and chip. Perhaps then he will realise why one day my heart simply shattered into a million pieces and I left in every sense of the word.
But I can’t say any of these things. Even if I did, he would not hear what I say. He would not see the woman I have become in his absence. He could not comprehend that he might have played a part in any of this. Instead, I stand here feeling the psychic daggers wedging in my body, with a wall up around my heart, continuing to take the blows as if he were right in front of me.
No closure comes. The weight bears down on my shoulders. The pain is sharp and piercing. Yet I know that I simply can’t swallow all of this back.
My only choice is to hand all of this over. To pass it to my angels and ask that they transform the pain into learning, love and strength. That they will tap me on the shoulder and whisper in my ear a warning, should I find myself in the same situation. That they will free me and break down the walls around my heart, so that I may be free to love again, despite the scratches and cuts left on the surface of my heart, and the glue holding it together.
So, that is my prayer in this moment. For peace, healing, love and freedom.
But more importantly, I ask for the strength to face the rest of my ruins…
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