my unveiling...

Date: the past

Dear Anger...

[ABUSE]

       Such a short word-just 2 syllables.

 The definition of [ABUSE] is quite L

                                    E

                                    N

                                    G

                                    T

                                    H

                                    Y

                            and has many layers.

     misuse                                             

             insulting language                      

                               improper treatment     

         deception                                      

                         sexual assault                         

One synonym for [ABUSE] is wrong.
The word WRONG stands out like a fLaShInG road sign for me.

   Call it what you want, but what YOU did to me [ABUSE] was WRONG.

YOU bullied me, YOU cussed at me & called me horrible names, YOU violated my body & my rights, & YOU lied & cheated.  ALL of those things are HORRIBLE, but what is WORSE is that I experienced not just ONE of those layers of [ABUSE], I experienced all of them.

          YOU inflicted every layer of [ABUSE] on me.

I was completely LOST.  The girl I once was had been [ABUSED] over

and over until she finally disappeared…

                                                     YOU DID THAT.

YOU took away the love I had for myself by [ABUSING] 
              the love I had for you.

To write this, to recognize what I experienced, I had to take all masks off and remove every disguise.  I tore through layer after layer of denial and excuses.  I dug to the depths of my darkest secrets, and ripped away blood stained bandages to expose the raw reality of what happened to me.  I now have some understanding of the madness of an abusive relationship, an abstract painting of what abuse looks like.  I had to remove my rose colored glasses, and, like it or not, I had to face the music of what once was.

When I started to write, I felt a nagging sense that I needed to put a disclaimer with what I was posting.  But, I don’t need a disclaimer.  This is my story, and because this is my story, I get to call the shots.  I decide how much, how little, when, where, and how I want to share.  I am the sole owner of my story, and no one can steal that ownership.

I have no underlying or hidden agenda here.  I am not asking anything from anyone.  I don’t want pity or remorse, judgement or rage.  I am not asking that anyone stand and take blame, and I never will.  My reason for writing is for me to heal, to have closure where closure is needed.  I am navigating my way through pain and confusion by writing.  I have a fiery passion in my heart to fill page after page with words, with writing that is freeing me from chains of self-hate.

This is simply the beginning for me, the threshold of my healing, and I am all in, leaping with both feet.  I am overflowing with excitement that I have uncovered my passion to write, to heal, to help.  And, I am proud of myself, gratified that I stared fear in the face and did not crumble to the floor.  I walked past fear, past my own debilitating fears, to begin a journey of healing, and to unveil my raw reality.