There were so many moments where I wished someone had saved me. As a child. As a teen. As a young woman.
There were times where I almost dared to think... it's over. It wasn't. It never was. Where one left off, another came. Hit after hit. Blow after blow.
When I think back to how many times I could have saved myself but never did, I wonder... Why? Why didn't I? Where was my voice?
The truth is, as a little girl, I was taught to please others. To remain silent even when uncomfortable.
Shake their hand. Give them a hug. Let them touch you. It's ok. Don't be ungrateful.
"What happens in this house, stays in this house."
"You have always caused trouble."
"You were always a liar. Even as a child."
"Oh, shut up. You don't know anything."
She was relentless.... mean.... depriving.... manipulative... abusive. She was my mother.
There were weeks I questioned my own sanity... my own integrity... reality.
Was I really all these things she said I was? No wonder people treated me this way. I must be crazy. I have caused her so much pain. I deserve this.
But I didn't. No one does. We all deserve to be loved... to love. We all deserve a life free of torture, pain, and abuse.
Patterns of abuse were continued. Boyfriends who held me hostage with the fear already instilled in me, solidifying it with the fear they beat into me should I dare speak up for myself.
Every time I tried to have a voice, I was silenced. Until the day I thought I was truly going to die.
I'm not sure why he chose a bamboo rod that day. He was always so careful to use an open hand before, to leave no marks.
The second I knew what was about to happen, time slowed down. I turned my head from him to the door, wondering if I could make it in time. I saw the deadbolt and chain lock. Both engaged.
I wanted to scream but I was afraid no one would hear me... or that they would hear me and how dare I disturb their peaceful evening. How dare I ask someone for help when, obviously, it had to be my fault. After all...I have "always caused trouble."
That day...at that moment... something inside of be screamed "NO!!!" I'm not sure how many times he had hit me but I had had enough. I ran for the door, turned the lock, and yanked the door open. I had messed up. I never undid the chain. It was too late. His hands wrapped around my arm and drug me back. I fought, gripping the door... and I found my voice. I screamed. I... ME.
What did I do?! He is going to kill me. I did this to myself. I should have stayed silent. All of this ran though my thoughts.
My own scream shocked me. It was like someone else had did it. Looking around to see who had did it, my eyes met his. He. Was. Pissed. Oh, God... it was me. I did it. I had to get away now... or else.
I scrambled back to the door, managed to fling the chain off.... but it was too late. I was on the ground.
I was numb. I couldn't hear anything. I accepted my fate... my reality. I was going to die.
I felt at peace. I couldn't feel the hits anymore. It was as if God himself took away my pain and was leading me to heaven. I had never felt so appreciative.
I don't know how long I laid there before I realized someone else was in the room. Many someones were in the room. I was saved.
That scream.... in that one moment... after years of torture had saved me. I ... ME .... had saved MYSELF.
Ladies, never silence your voice. Never give in. YOU DO HOLD THE POWER.