I thought about my blog ~ my survival story ~ and wondered if I actually had anything left to say. So many stories ~ so many flashbacks ~ has the subject of domestic violence run its course?
Have I said all that I need to say? All that I need to share with the world?
And then I realized that the rest is really too painful ~ too humiliating ~ to even begin to describe.
The horrific memories ~ even worse than my most graphic stories here ~ that no one but my abuser and I know. No one else knows. Can I ever tell them?
My family rarely reads my blog. The stories of Mom's cancer year were too painful for Dad to read. I really wanted him to read the stories of domestic violence because he was the main person I tried so hard to hide my terrible truth from for four years. I know he knew somewhat was going on during that time, but I also know he would be shocked and sickened about how bad my life really was during the time I remained so isolated from my family.
I think about those painful memories and cringe.
It took me several years to share my first story "Death Row" ~ a graphic list of abuses I had endured ~ which was written mere days after my relationship ended. It took me even more years to write "August 22, 2003" which chronicled the one night I finally called 911 on him.
The hidden memories ~ left unshared ~ are not necessarily the worst cases of domestic violence I once endured. But they reflect a deeper pain ~ and even more shame ~ that what I have been able to write so far.
Maybe I will share them one day.
But not today.
Today, they remain secrets.
Painful, sad secrets.
Buried beneath the scars.
Uncensored
I question whether amends can be sincere from a man who abused me so viciously so long ago.
I put his email in the "XYZ" folder I created to stuff any email I have received since our days together ended. I told my brother about the email, and he suggested that maybe my batterer was finally trying to make amends since he has re-entered a 12 step program.
The email did not really mention the physical abuse ~ only hinting at cheating and being too hard on me at times.
I always thought I would like him to make amends but thought that would mean meeting face-to-face. Mostly I wanted him to give me back the $5000 he made me pay him back for the lawyer and the bail money ~ after I finally called 911 on him. A sort of financial amends to me for extorting money from me for two long years filled with even more abuse.
No amount of "I'm so sorry" will ever erase the flashbacks that still come at me in dreams, in drifting thoughts, or sudden winces of painful memories. The flashbacks have lessened through the years, but they do pop up quite unexpectedly at times.
Mostly, my time with him seems like a blur in general ~ on a day-to-day basis ~ and then I remember I am stuffing the pain away so tightly that I may forget all that I went through just to get through my life.
The blog helped me process the flashbacks one by one, and I felt an emotional healing begin almost immediately. Then I felt the incredible victory in being able to help current victims and survivors with what I consider stories of hope.
I wonder if he can actually remember our time together in the same way I do.
I wonder if he remembers bashing my head into the wall three times nearly 9 years ago.
I wonder if he remembers asking me, "What am I going to do with you—put you in a hole?"
I wonder if he remembers asking me to choose what I wanted to have written on my headstone.
He feels sorry and wishes he could talk with me now.
Wants to meet up for Chinese food.
But there will be no more conversations, no more Chinese food, despite any type of amends.
I only put a check in the box next the new email in my In Box and move it to the folder titled "XYZ."
And then thank God that I have survived.
Uncensored
I had dreams that my blog would generate more hits by being featured in our local newspaper.
I had hopes for being featured as the "Post of the day."
But I have found that domestic violence does not make good press copy.
Maybe I need to be writing daily to be noticed for what I need to say ~ the truth I need to share ~ but with life's struggles of having dealt with a layoff and return to work this past nine months, I can not seem to write as regularly as I would like.
Some of my best posts are in my archives from the early days of my blog when I wrote down each flashback in a frenzy.
But archives are old ~ not current ~ not fresh. The topic is uncomfortable, ugly, frightening, and perhaps forbidden.
I have found my best following for my blog to be on Facebook where I share my blog links ~ both current and archived ~ with Domestic Violence groups and pages. Women who have shared my experience are not afraid to read my words. They have lived my words with their own harrowing experience of being abused.
So I will focus on these women instead and not the general public who read online newspapers. I will continue to share my truth with those women who need it the most.
The elusive "Post of the day" will remain just that ~ out of reach ~ and I am okay with that now.
I will stop checking each day to see if my blog is featured as if I am trying to win some odd type of popularity contest.
Domestic Violence is not a popularity contest.
Domestic Violence is gruesome.
Domestic Violence is evil.
Domestic Violence is horrific.
Domestic Violence is brutal.
Domestic Violence is life-threatening.
Domestic Violence is silenced.
Uncensored
