Sometimes I feel this deep, burning guilt over how long I stayed with him.
Silent.
The times I dismissed his behavior when my daughter would say how angry and moody he could be.
Dismissed the bullshit because I was too afraid of him.
Too afraid to stand up to him.
Afraid of his reaction.
Which, when I look at this now, was really nothing to fear. I was able to stand up to him at times.
Although not to the level of depth and confidence I do today.
Guilt.
Something women feel naturally, especially if you're a mom.
Growing up, I was told everything bad that happened to me, including car accidents and being bullied, was my "fault". That shit sticks with you whether you are consciously aware of it or not.
Now that I know much more about the body holding the truth of pain and trauma, I see what happens to my body when those toxic emotions like guilt kick in.
So the guilt I feel over the fact that I am still here and that it took me a long time to break the spell and begin to take back my power is still there.
I feel horrible.
I feel like such a neglectful, horrible mom for dismissing my daughter's emotions back then. Even though I no longer do this, I still feel that guilt.
It's like a heavy, sticky syrup. It finds its way out of the locked doors of my soul, where it then seeps into every corner of my body, my mind, my heart, my thoughts.
I don't know what to do about it, so I've decided to start going to church again. Find some Forgiveness.
Salvation.
Somewhere within, buried, is my forgiveness. But for now? I would sure love to hear the words of Jesus show up and say "There, there, my child. You are forgiven."
Would it be enough?
Likely not.
These things need to come from within.
They need to come from that place where I feel I am worthy OF forgiveness.
It's all so complicated.
For the stories in my mind.
There continue to be many of them that rise up, especially after I've been verbally assaulted by him, which I was today, when he said I was the reason for my daughter's struggles. It certainly was not him, as he "shows up every day and supports this family". That led to the list of bullet points with his fingers and hands detailing everything he (thinks) he has done.
I walked away.
Plugged my ears.
But I could still hear him outside the bathroom door tossing his insults. Muffled voices carry energy that goes right into my body.
Anger rose in my body, coupled with that guilt that brought up the ancient wound as mentioned above: Everything is my fault.
Makes me want to scream.
Kick.
Throw things.
Even hit myself.
Why couldn't I have been told the GOOD things about me?
About my character?
Why couldn't I have been comforted when I was being harmed or when I was frightened?
Why couldn't my home have been a safe place for me to cry? To take up space?
That was reserved for my father.
I also thought about my brother-in-law, who spent several years in federal prison for violent assault and countless DUIs.
When he got out, the system lined up and gave him housing.
Food.
Help finding work.
All of his needs were provided for.
This is the hypocrisy that makes me also want to scream and throw things.
A violent felon gets more help than a woman, a mom, victim of domestic violence.
In fact, when we ask for help, we are often met with judgment and accusations, questions that harm rather than help and assist.
I cannot tell you HOW MANY TIMES in the last couple of years I have felt like I am a drug addict or a felon.
When all I am is a woman who has been psychologically abused and harmed for a very long time, has seen it, and wants help. My brother-in-law has even judged me. Once - just once - he said: "I don't understand why you're still there."
"Where would you be when you got out of prison if you had not had any help?" I asked..
"Homeless," he said.
"Uh huh. And did you have a child to think of?"
He was quiet.
He got it.
Society often doesn't.
The system sure doesn't "get it".
Very, very few understand what trauma does to a person.
Even fewer understand what is truly needed for someone like me.
Safety.
People showing up who ARE safe and stick around.
Stand by my side.
Most everyone who was there with me 3 years ago is gone.
Did it take me too long?
Did my plan not align with what their plan was for me?
I don't know.
People just left.
And I decided it wasn't worth my time chasing after them.
Or anyone.
I am quite adept at walking alone.
But that doesn't mean that I don't want to.
Or that my nervous system doesn't need to.
But that is how we heal.
Nervous systems - together.
Apparently I am meant to walk alone.
M.E.