Isn’t Life Funny?

Life is a funny thing. Not “ha-ha” funny, but the ironic way it seems to turn out. I wasn’t prepared for the life I’ve lived, but I seem to be getting through it. The similarities between the family of my childhood and that of the family I have now are that they are both large families and as of now, like then, financially poor.

The differences are so many that it would take a whole page to fill. I guess the biggest difference that I can see so clearly now, is that there was love in my childhood. My parents loved and respected each other. They spoke often, sometimes in French, usually when they didn’t want us to understand what was being said between them.

The point is, that they communicated. Now that the constant state of confusion and my continued defense mechanisms have been turned off, it’s like I can think about and see in my mind all that I endured. I now wonder, how did I let myself live that way for so long? I am finally free from the constant accusations.

I find myself thinking about other people’s lives when they talk to me. I’m trying to not just hear them, but to feel what they are conveying to me in speech. The pride, when they share things about their family. Their frustrations. Their happiness, and their confusions.

This really helped me to open my own eyes. Being apart of a broader society has helped me to feel more for others. I am now discovering many differences in myself. Like the simpleness of being tired. It’s like it’s a good kind, I earned it. Stress is also different for me. It doesn’t hurt the way the stress did before. I am dealing with the changes and finally feel whole.

It’s me now, doing things my way. I have finally begun to live a life, a life for me. Although I’m working harder, dealing with more of everything, yet have a lot less of everything, I feel richer than ever before. I have found my strength in the destruction of my world.

So I say again, isn’t life funny?

 

Just Me

Some people have told me that I should write a book. I would jokingly reply, one event in my life could be a book. My truth is simple. I have never thought of my writings in that way. I have also had my writings compared to fantasy and soap operas. I guess in a way that could be closer to the truth.

It has been filled with bits and pieces of everything. Too much bad and sadness though, not enough good and happiness to balance it out. When I started writing about my life, it was my form of therapy. Something that was mine and mine alone. There were no blogs or tweets, no Facebooks to be found, or even computers for that matter.

Still today, I write as I always have done. Me alone with my trusty pen and paper. I have no spellcheck or auto-correct. The truth is, I can’t even type. I have had my daughter do it for me. Who for which, I am truly grateful. I just have the ink that flows from my pen, along with my memories and no ending yet.

Through the years, I felt as I wrote that I could release any hurt or anger that I felt without causing additional damage to an already messed up situation. By doing this, I thought I was escaping, leaving it all behind. I was wrong. I have been recording and replaying it over and over again.

When I started this blog, I needed to feel empowered. I wanted others in similar situations to know that we are not alone. I wanted to show my world, that the persons they thought they knew, don’t really exist. I wished to enlighten people about what it feels like on the inside, for someone to live the life of an abuse victim.

Instead, I learned. I learned that I am not alone, and that there are help centers around the world. We just have to be brave enough to look for them. I’ve realized that I was his enabler. It has always been up to me to end us. With the breaking of my cycle of abuse, I have allowed myself to grow as a person.

Maybe someday I will be courageous enough to write a book about everything. With all of the ugly details and truths included. For now, I have decided to rejoin the human race. I am standing alone in this great big world, but I am doing so straight and proud. I choose to believe in myself.

I am no longer simply his punching bag or the dartboard for his verbal abuse. I am a productive member of society with friends and co-workers. So while I continue on my road of self discovery, I have decided to take some time for myself. With that being said, I would like to say, thanks for following and supporting me.

Until we read again, take care being you, and I’ll be just me.