| Feel like a shaken bottle and some stuff is about to bubble out. Only it’s not soda, it’s words. It’s my story. And I don’t need to stay silent anymore. You aren’t covering my mouth anymore. You aren’t over powering me with your screams anymore. I can finally speak. You see, right now some super amazing builders are fixing up my house and I’m starting to forget what really happened in these walls. The memories are slowly dying as it’s transformed into something new- As the doors get changed out for new, I touch the broken door frame one last time- knowing that door saved my life from raging anger multiple times. It’s cracks representing me sitting behind it pushing back and pleading that you won’t get through it to me. As they swap out the next one, we all see the gaping hole, from where you threw my phone. Angry that I was in fact doing nothing you projected onto me or made up in your mind. As the walls get smoothed and repainted, I touch the many, many holes that I know were once there, as I ducked from thrown objects or thrown fists. As the floor gets torn up, I recall laying in a pool of my blood. I remember cleaning it up myself. And I remember you laughing in the next room, chugging another beer. As my kitchen gets a makeover, I recall the meals I cooked, that were never good enough, the plates that were thrown on the floor, the broken dishes, the glass I had to sweep up, the beer cans dumped over my head that I had to mop up. The money thrown on the floor for groceries that I had to pick up on my hands and knees. As I hear a gun shot in the distance, I no longer jump, or duck and cover my body with my arms. It no longer terrifies me, for that gun is aimed at a deer and not being used to threaten or terrify me. I smile instead, knowing a family is getting their freezer filled. As I hear the cars go by, I no longer touch my side where the bruises used to be from being struck by one by you. Instead, I wave and smile at the passers-by. As I wear a pretty dress for the first time in years, I’m not reminded of the day my favorite one was set on fire in a field by you. Instead, I twirl and laugh and smile. As each memory is created into something beautiful and new- I notice that something else is coming to mind. It’s silence. It’s Peace. Silence and peace bubbling out of me in the form of quiet grief bubbles, pain bubbles, trauma bubbles, abuse bubbles, rejection bubbles, betrayal bubbles, and finally- forgiveness bubbles. And I imagine they quietly float away, gently flowing in the breeze, and then they pop in thin air- disappearing. The last of it finally leaving my system. After years of struggling internally, wrestling with it and trying to navigate it and healthily cope with it. I am free. Newness appears. And now I can blow bubbles and smile- Because, I forgive you. And now, instead of words- This is the sound of the wound healed. ….. You can’t hear it. It’s silent. But it’s there. I can feel it. And I get to live it out- And I have only the Lord to praise for that kind of freedom. -Ashley. |
The Journey of a Domestic Violence Survivor: Healing and Resilience
By Survivor The life of a Survivor of Domestic ViolenceThe repair of the abuse is never repaired because the damage is too unrepairable, mental or physical abuse stays with the survivor for life.Future relationships will be affected by the triggers of the survivor and the relationship will usually suffer, to...
