Tuesday, June 7, 2011

DOMESTIC VIOLENCE…IT’S TIME TO TALK ABOUT IT

A student came to me to tell me how much she enjoyed the Uniquely You Summit this weekend. She was bothered though by the fact that, when asked how many girls had been hit by their boyfriends, the entire room went silent, but no one raised their hand – including her. Knowing that she had been one who was hit by her boyfriend but didn’t raise her hand, made her wonder how many of the other 700 in attendance, who had become silent, had also been hit by their boyfriends but didn’t raise their hands.

It’s time to talk about it.

One of my earliest memories is of my father grabbing my mother by her hair and banging her head into the dining room wall and her teeth and blood falling onto the hardwood floors. I was 3 years old, but I remember. And all the other incidents that followed up until I was 13 years old. All those nights of getting no sleep laying in my bed helplessly listening to my mother be abused, then having my mother get me up and dressed for school the next day like nothing ever happened.

It’s time to talk about it.

Following in my mothers footsteps, I found myself in an abusive marriage and wearing the same mask that my mother wore day in and day out. I thought I was better because I rarely had outward scars as reminders of my abuse – just some hand-prints on my neck from time to time. My scars were more emotional and mental.

It’s time to talk about it.

My grandmother took her three daughters and left my grandfather many years before I was born. No one ever really talked about it. My aunt once told me a story of how my grandfather threw my grandmother down the steps.

It’s time to talk about it.

This generational curse is now broken. Like my grandmother, I have three daughters and I’ll be damned if I will allow them to go through that madness.

It’s time to talk about it.

Last night I heard my new neighbors arguing. Well, I heard him screaming and hollering at her. One thing he said was “I love you but you are so f#@#@ing stupid you make me wanna hurt you”.

It’s time to talk about it.

There’s not a doubt in my mind that my father didn’t love my mother. I believe that he loved her with all he had. Why he was so abusive is a mystery that I will always wonder about. If he and my grandfather were alive today, I would ask them WHY?

It’s time to talk about it.

I doubt that my own abuser ever really loved me. He too wore a mask day in and day out. I wonder if he ever thinks about why he treated me the way he did. It doesn’t matter that he didn’t really love me – The real issue is that I didn’t LOVE MYSELF.

It’s time to talk about it.

I gotta stop carrying all this baggage if I expect to ever be able to love again.

It’s time to talk about it.

Do we, as survivors of abusive relationships somehow become abusive ourselves - as some sort of defense mechanism?

It's time to talk about it.
It;s Time To Talk About It.
IT’S TIME TO TALK ABOUT IT
BREAK THE SILENCE, BREAK THE CYCLE

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