I Will Not Make Myself Small

 

For a long time I thought I was a failure because I hadn’t completed my degree.

When everyone else was throwing their hats up in the air at graduation, I was battling domestic violence. And when friends were nailing prestigious jobs, I was restarting life from scratch.

Needless to say I felt small, less, embarrassed and ashamed. I felt like I made some really bad decisions.

But the day finally came where I realized that contrary to what I had believed all along, I was anything but small.

I suddenly saw my so called failures as higher mountains that I victoriously climbed, and my lacking as deeper valleys that I strenuously swam through. I was a champion for trudging through tougher terrain and this made me anything but small – it made me resilient, brave & strong.

Maybe my timeline wasn’t the same as everyone else’s because my life took a different path. But I still made it. And though I wasn’t where everyone else was, my progress was still progress.

To find the will to believe in yourself when you aren’t qualified as everyone else in the game is fearless. To hit restart when everything has crumbled to pieces is brave.

So remember the next time your life doesn’t add up with someone else’s, when you feel you’re less than whoever, remember you ran a race of your own – the mountains you’ve climbed were higher than theirs, the path harder & tougher. Remember that you are anything but small for persevering in-spite of the opportunities you didn’t have & that you overcame every challenge that came your way.

Then say it over and over again until you are out of breath: I. Will. Not. Make. Myself. Small.

Questions of Compassions

Recently I’ve been reflecting on the quote “Leave the past behind you.” I don’t know if I believe in it or if it is something that is even possible for some of us. Trauma knows no way of being left behind I have learnt. It stays as much as you want it to leave. It stays in our subconscious, our mannerisms and most importantly the way we perceive things.

I used to be someone that I no longer am because of the past. It changes us. And then there are some of us who just wallow in our past, internalizing everything because there is no way of letting it out or talking about it. I guess that’s because no one asks us. When I say “ask” I don’t mean the interrogative questions or the ones where we are simply asked because people like to know our business but rather the compassionate questions. These are the questions that best come from family, loved ones and friends – the people who care about us.

This brings to that wretched quote .. ever tried opening up about your experience to simply have someone blatantly say ”  let’s not talk about it. Leave the past behind?” I for one wish that person would disappear that very moment. Just when you are looking for a way to channel those feelings and hope that someone would listen and understand you are asked to shut up. It’s the worst feeling ever because suddenly it feels like your story is not worth being heard and that nobody gives a shit.

I think people often forget that talking about something we’ve been through is healing. It allows all that pain that is resting inside us, come out. It gives an opportunity to be heard, valued, validated and advocated for. It’s important. It’s necessary. Sometimes it’s everything.

Every survivor wants to feel cared for after they come out of something traumatic. Yes, they are starting a new chapter in their life but one can’t just start fresh without being validated for what they’ve been through. Pain needs closure as does every end to something broken and not just from a counsellor or a lawyer but from the people you call your own, including the new people you welcome into your life. We want them to know where we’ve been, who we are because of that and indirectly yet most importantly how much love and support we need and desire. We want to be told, ” You’ve been through so much.” We want to be asked ” How are you, really? How can I help? What do you need? Are you okay?” And more often than not we want to hear the words ” Tell me your story.” Because that in itself is so liberating, so encouraging and speaks a thousand words of care and acknowledgement.

So if you know someone who has been through hell and back don’t love them with silence. Ask them a few questions of compassion. Show them you care, that you want to know because you want to be there for them and give them the love and support they need. Be part of the healing & the liberating.

Dreaming

It’s been 5 years since I left my abuser but I still dream of him. They aren’t nice dreams. They are nightmares. The scene is always one where I am trying to get away from him, confide in someone to help me escape and hope he doesn’t hurt me.

If the dream isn’t about him then it’s about convincing someone that I was abused. And if it isn’t about that it’s about reaching out to loved ones when I am in danger only to find that they are attentive to everything but me.

I thought these haunting reflections of the past would leave me by now but they still linger and it makes me sad. This goes to show how so much of what we go through resides in our hearts and minds even though we have moved on. It also speaks volumes about how much trauma affects us even when we aren’t looking. Like a thief it comes to steal our peace and joy, hiding in the darkest corners of our beings only to never leave.

So what do we do to make it stop? We can’t control what’s been done or what our loved ones should do. We can only yearn. We can only feel what we feel when we open our eyes and hope that all one day pain ends and joy truly begins.

Just to be alive

I don’t know if I’m ok. One day I am, the next I’m not. Sometimes there is a trigger and other times there aren’t. But overall, I am exhausted, not tired but exhausted of having to deal with the unpredictability of it all. I am tired of feeling terrible, of the lack of energy, depression, anxiety, hopelessness and overall crap that my mind and body goes through every single second of the day.

I’ve realised that now I am living in such a way that I am doing things not as part of a routine but as prevention. Do this so that doesn’t happen. Don’t do this so this happens. I have multiple mental to-dos and checklists that I sometimes can’t keep up with or can’t follow through on. Living for me takes a lot of effort. It takes a lot of planning, treatment and sensitivity. And sometimes I want to give up. I don’t want to take the pain to live pain-free. I want to just not exist so that I can be free.

I thought I’d be ok by now but sadly that isn’t the case. There is so much yet to be done and so many more mountains to climb – I need to sleep, I need to dream good dreams, lose weight, be healthy, be at peace, rest when I need to, have normal relationships, believe and love myself, have energy to do the everyday things – basically live a normal life. And I can’t do it alone.

On A Good Day

On a good day I wake up rested, encouraged to face the day and have faith that everything will be okay.

On a good day, I able to focus on my job, on positive thoughts, a book or even a song.

On a good day I am not triggered, not haunted by the things of my past whether asleep or awake.

On a good day, I shower, cook a meal, pack my lunch and wash the dishes.

On a good day I can make my bed, wear clean clothes, do the laundry, brush my teeth and put one feet in front of other.

On a good day I have the energy to walk from the car to my apartment without dragging myself after a long day at work.

On a good day I am able to do the groceries, put them all where they need to be, clean the house, and be wherever I need to be.

On a good day, I feel like leaving the house and actually do what I want to without stopping halfway and crawling back into bed.

On a good day, I connect with a friend, have a conversation and encourage someone that isn’t me.

On a good day I do not worry about what was, what is and what’s yet to be.

On a good day I smile and feel hopeful.

A good day is rare and so I make the best of it.

Seeds

I haven’t been doing very well. My therapist asked me to increase my anti depressant dosage too. But you know what? It’s okay. It’s okay that in the middle of trying to live a normal life I freak out. It’s okay that I panic when I don’t know how to do something at work or wonder if I’m doing something right. It’s okay when I pass by my ex’s house and remember all the terrible things he did to me in the parking lot. It’s okay that there on wards I have flash backs of other broken relationship moments. It’s okay. It’s all okay.

In the midst of our healing stuff like this happens. One day all is good and we feel like we’ve moved upwards and onwards and the next day, we’re in a pit. A deep pit, unable to get out. But the key is to wake up everyday and and try. The gift is to live in the moment and enjoy it for what it is, to embrace our feelings for what they are and to face what we fear. We’re human and memories come and go. Things or people may trigger us and we may feel like shit for a day or a week or more but all we can do is face it, live it out until it passes and we feel better again.

They say ignorance is bliss but every time I try to forget or push something away that meets me head on in my head, it comes back to haunt me double fold. It’s hard. It’s painful. It’s exhausting. I’m not sure what to do or what the solution is to healing now and forever. All I know is that I am alive and this is my second chance and I am living it. All I know is that I will take it one moment at a time and do my very best. When I cant, I’ll say that I can’t and take a break or pass. I accept that I am not the next door girl. I am different. I am changed by my experiences and that’s okay. I am vulnerable yet strong, sensitive yet fierce, anxious yet brave, down yet in spirit. I am a mix of things every day and I don’t need to make sense of it. You don’t need to make sense of it. Just pick up the pieces that they left us in and renovate. Just be you as you are. We don’t need to be the people who didn’t go through we did. We don’t. We need to live within our element. That’s the beauty. The beauty is living broken and out of brokenness and not just inspiring others but inspiring ourselves. The beauty and joy is looking back days or weeks or months or years from now and being proud of how far we’ve come when we thought we couldn’t make it at all.

Like the Mexican Proverb reads “They tried to bury us. They didn’t know we were seeds.”

People

To the people that treated me like I was “less valuable than they were”; I stood up for myself and “they” decided that I was not worth it. They decided that they would rather live in the old system. They lost me. What did I lose? I lost the oppression, I lost the constant disapproval. I gained freedom and a new love and respect for myself. I learned to look at relationships in a whole new way, and to value my children as individuals. In the end, things are pretty dang good! Darlene Ouimet

The Importance of Family

Perhaps the most heartbreaking part of any story of abuse is when the survivor doesn’t get the support and justice he/she needs. This is true to my life and I’m sure for so many of you too.

The one person I wanted when I was in the midst of pain was my mom. Growing up, my dad was an alcoholic and every time she screamed out for me when she suspected danger I ran to her side. I was mostly terrified but I did what I had to. I showed up.

When I first reached out to my mother about my ex’s abusive tendencies I got the cold shoulder. I got the silent treatment. The you-have-to-make-this work tone. I made a mistake marrying this man. I ignored the warning signs and now I needed to rectify that mistake the best way I knew how. But she wasn’t going to help me the way I wanted her to. I already screwed up my life and now I had to figure it out myself. I had to behave, adjust, compromise, pray. I guess I had to take his shit.  No freaking way.

I tried. I tried to explain myself. I tried but in vain. My folks showed up. But then they also left. They left me behind. Nothing I could say or do would make anyone understand or support me to simply go back home. Perhaps they thought I was a child and that I needed to listen to them even more now that I made such a huge mistake.

In my six years of marriage I reached out to my dad once and my mom a couple of more times. I told her that was raped, that I was going to go to the cops. I showed her my bruises. I told her how he was treating me and how I suspected his affair. But she just asked me to pray. She told me that men made mistakes and that they have needs wives need to fulfill. To her marital rape didn’t exist and abuse was a state of denial. Perhaps this is because she stuck around with my dad when she was being abused. She expected me to do the same. To hold the fort up and to take all the blows while doing so.

It broke me to see her react this way to me. I needed her. I was desperate for her support. I wanted to her to see my pain the way I saw hers and support my decision to walk out of a dangerous, abusive situation. But she wanted me to stay. And I stayed because I had no choice but I wasn’t going to give up on the quest to leave eventually.

My story turned very twisted after I saw that there was no room for help from family. I turned to church folks and leaders. And when they didn’t understand. And then I turned to my husband’s friends. And that didn’t turn out too well because emotions crept in. They saw a damsel in distress and I responded with great yearning for attention. It turned out to be an emotional affair as expected. Thrice. And then disaster struck because everyone found out. The abuse escalated. My husband continued to be involved with a minor but I was the “whore” in the entire community who slipped in her attempt to escape abuse.

You see, my point is this – when the people who you expect and need to be there for you fail, you resort to other ways. Other desperate ways. Bound by a situation of hopelessness you don’t stop to think if this is the right way out. You go for it because it’s the only way out. I regret making those mistakes, giving in to emotions and affection. But I couldn’t help it either. It made me feel like I was worth more than a punch bag and sex toy. I had nothing and that gave me something to breathe about.

Eventually, not having family to take be back home, fight my cause and take my side made me reach out to this amazing woman who was so badly affected because she helped me. It nearly destroyed her life. But she did what no one else did. And I escaped. I couldn’t have done it without her support.

Till date my mother doesn’t truly stand for me. She believed my ex husband when he put on his Oscar winning show for all. ” I loved my wife and now she’s gone away with another man.” She patted his back for all to see that she wasn’t going to support her daughter because I supposedly was a disgrace and stuck by her pastor, her religious beliefs. And I continued to suffer in my quest for respite and advocacy after I left him.

It was the support of strangers and friends that helped me heal and survive. Money came from the strangest of places. Resources showed up miraculously and I made it through. I slogged my way up but I did it. Without my mother. Oh, yes she called and was terrified because i fled the country but she did it with an agenda to get me back to the man who abused me. She searched for me on his terms and with his help. She responded to their angry words “your daughter is a prostitute” with silence. And today she tells me to forgive and forget.

Maybe I have healed a lot from the pain of the past but from this, the agony of rejection from my mother, I still hurt. I hurt a lot. Because it’s still real.

Someday if I have a daughter, I have learnt that I will be to her what I have never had. I will be there for her. I will love her and support her. I will guide her and should someone dare abuse her I will be fierce in my protection.

If you are a mother I hope you do the same. I hope you believe your child, welcome her back home with no strings attached. I hope you stand by her and stand for her. I hope you be everything she needs you to be. Because in the business of abuse, there are no replacements for kith and kin.

Be Brave

How are you doing? What are you feeling? Really.

I’m stressed out to be honest. It’s been two weeks since I started my new job that I previously blogged about and it’s been good. But it’s also been hard. I go to bed every night hoping the next day will be okay to say the least. And I think I do well. I do well because I wake up and face the day. I take the effort to do something that scares the hell out of me. But I still do it and I try and it makes a difference. My boss appreciates me and when she does I feel much better about myself and life. I feel like I’m one step closer to arriving, to being a normal human being in this crazy world.

I feel it when I forget to take my meds. The anxiety creeps in and at times even depression. But I’m doing alright I think. And I’m believing it only gets better. I thank God that my boss is a lovely lady. It helps with calming my issues of authority.

It’s hard to believe sometimes that I have a job, that I go to a desk every morning to use my unique skills and am no longer cooped in a rotten house. It’s hard to live out the reality as well because it’s so new to me, so different from just obeying someone’s rules personally and otherwise. And as much as I’m scared inside everyday I know I am capable. And I tell myself…

Why It’s Necessary to Quit Sometimes

So it’s been quite the challenge coming back home and trying to re-integrate myself into community. The job search was endless and I was almost regretting moving back after almost four years in New Delhi.

I ended up getting a job offer that I wasn’t too keen on but that I tried out for a few days. Until I QUIT! In a day and age where more people are losing their jobs than gaining, I got asked to try and stick it out. And I almost did until I had a revelation.

I liked the job as such but my boss was a temperamental woman who didn’t necessarily treat her staff very well. Desperate for employment, I tried so hard to adjust to her moods and manner of working but I couldn’t sleep well at night, was miserable and exhausted beyond measure. I went back and forth about whether I should keep the job or not considering that I needed it so badly. But one day I just walked out and left. I decided that I didn’t get out of an abusive situation to walk into another stupid one of sorts.

Today Im proud of myself. I’m glad that unlike 10 years ago where I just ignored my intuition and went along with whatever came my way, I took a stand this time. I decided I wasn’t going to settle for less that I deserved. I told myself that I deserved to be treated with dignity and respect even at my workplace. I told myself that even if I was in a desperate situation I knew better than to get myself into something that I would later regret.

I guess this is one of those valuable lessons we learn after being in an abusive relationship. We learn that we have an identity, that we are precious and that we are worthy of being treated well wherever we are. Yes, there is a high tendency to walk into an abusive situation over again because we’ve been there before but there comes a point where we break the cycle and realise that we have learnt much too well.

Never settle for less wherever you are. Never feel like you have to cope with someone else’s shit and never feel like you have to bow down to anyone’s pride and ego. You are better than that. You have been there before. You know what it amounts to. I’m glad I quit that stupid job where I was constantly walking on egg shells all over again. Loving myself enough to ask for better has only led me to receive a better job today with a leader (not a boss) who respects and appreciates me as her equal.

Take the leap of faith always. Don’t cope, or endure or silently suffer any kind of mistreatment. If there is anything that we have learnt from what we have been through before, it is this. Make that hell of an experience worth your while. Use it to teach you to never let anyone else treat you less than you deserve.