Month: March 2016 (Page 4 of 5)
It’s depressing to speak to another woman who has been burnt as much as I have. Perhaps, upon reflection, she was treated worse. It’s sad to acknowledge the world that we live in is full of good people who suffer. We discussed the repercussions of our experiences and, although I try to think of the positives – the growth, understanding and wisdom that I have gained – I can never lose sight of the pain that I have endured. I wonder, was it worth it? No, it wasn’t. I was happily stumbling through life none the wiser of such vile villainy. And I was doing quite alright.
I wish this could be a blog post full of positivity, but once again, I find myself angry. Lately I have been realising the amount of psychological damage that I have and the repercussions of said damage.
This is genuinely how I feel:
As much as I intellectually know that I have a lot to offer, my brain wiring has been messed with so much that my automatic response to anything is I’m not good enough. I remember the monster’s words in my head – “you’re destroyed. You are going to impose yourself on someone, that’s your agenda.” As much as I know that everything he said was a bunch of crap, these words haunt and taunt me. I hate that he made me feel so broken that I truly believed – and sometimes still do – that I am that worthless. I list all of my assets, accomplishments and strengths and remind myself of just how much I have to offer – but deep down, I’m still not entirely reprogrammed. And I wish that I could say that it’s something that I’m working on – but in all honesty, I don’t know how to work on it. I don’t know how to silence that monster’s voice in my head. Perhaps I do approach others with a blank slate, but my own slate isn’t blank – it’s full of scribblings of all of the things Voldemort said and did to me. I wish I knew how to completely wipe it clean, but psychological abuse is not something to take lightly.
I’ve come to expect abandonment, in fact, I await it, and in the meantime, push away incredible people who should be approached with a blank slate – whether that’s their slate or mine. And then, I realise what I have just unwittingly done and suffer some more. Because now I believe in my unworthiness even more fervently.
Perhaps, some day, this vicious cycle will end.
Once upon a time, I dreamt of happy endings. I’ve learnt though, over the years, that life isn’t particularly fair and happiness isn’t handed on a platter and there’s no such thing as fairy god mothers. But somewhere, deep down, I still believe that dreams do come true. Then my fragile heart, weak from rebuilding itself after being shattered so many times, tugs at it’s strings and quietly murmurs, “please, don’t let me break again. I don’t have the strength to rebuild myself one more time”. So maybe that tiny part of me that still has faith in happily-ever-after needs to be extinguished.
Because I don’t believe in being loved back to life anymore.