Through A Darkened Mirror: The Scars Of Emotional Abuse.
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There are some types of injuries that don’t show on the outside. They bleed internally, where no one sees, in an endless agonizing trickle of despair. The despair is multiplied by the knowledge that since no one can see, nothing can be proven, and therefore no one can help. No one knows you need help.
You don’t even admit that you do.
It began so subtly that you barely noticed something was off. A look of distaste when you laughed unreservedly, or your stories entertained people too frequently, or you drew too much attention away from him with your absolute joy in the moment.
He wasn’t strong enough to love you, so he tore you down.
He taught you to believe your tears were a pathetic weakness, your need for companionship clingy and excessive, your attempts to repair and rebuild were ridiculous and unnecessary. He told you to get a life and quit expecting him to be there for you when he had other shit to do. Jesus Christ, he would grit out, give him a break already.
So you shut yourself down.
He looked at you with cold, uncaring eyes when you told him you wanted a partner, a companion, a lover, a friend. You tried to reach the mind of someone who only gave what he had to, to not look like an ass in public. When he did something nice for you? It was all for show. He had a persona to maintain.
He’s a narcissistic manipulator.
After years of this, it was not just your spine that became steel. Your heart solidified, your dreams became the stones you stepped on to make it through the days, and the only thing left that you hoped for was to be left alone. Your desire became distaste, your future something you could not bear to think about or you’d go mad.
The heart of you is now locked up tight against wounding… and wonder.
You saved yourself by sealing yourself off from any chance of harm or happiness, rapture or ridicule, desire or desperation. You turned yourself into the perfect female machine that cannot be touched or tormented. You not only didn’t need him then, but you absolutely don’t want him now.
Yet, here you are.
What will it take for you to see your absolute value to the world? What will it take to acknowledge your worth, and defend it from slander? To actually see and accept that his weaknesses and injuries are not yours to pay for, or carry every day? That he has the power to choose his own life…
But he cannot choose yours.
What will it take for you to wake up, stand up, face off, and walk away? How many invisible hits will it take? How many years of isolation? How many times will you be destroyed enough to think that if he just drew blood you could turn to someone for help? Walk away, my beloved sister…
Walk. Away.
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