Tormented

Tonight

I write about a true life story of how those who serve the corruptor bring pain, suffering, hopelessness.  Tonight, I read my daughter’s blog on WordPress, http://www.paintbyletters.wordpress.com.  She is much more the talented writer than I. I would like to say it’s because she inherited something from me and unfortunately, a generational weakness that allowed her to fall into the same trap I did at her age.

Abuse is not just physical.  It leaves unseen marks within a person’s  spirit that many never see. It makes vulnerability a bad thing to be taken advantage of by others, seeking to devour the goodness in others and put them in the same pit these corruptOrs find themselves, so they can feel ‘worthy’ of the precious gifts of goodness and life  in those God has given.

27  years ago, I would find myself in the same position as my daughter.  Young, close to graduation from  college and married to a man that found his courage in alcohol and his self-esteem in various young women.  The fights and silence were typical of our life.  I had met him in junior high school when I was 13 and by 15 we were dating.  Coming from a divorced family and the oldest of 3, too many responsibilities, too little love.  I reached out…for the wrong one.  The one who would corrupt my ability to believe that I could begin again, that I could be loved, beautiful, strong.  In the 9 years with him, I would discover life could have lows I never dreamed of and highs I would find almost impossible to grasp.  I did what I thought good wives did…hold on…wait for him to change, but he only got worse.  My only power I felt was to control my life by refusing to have sex with him and it worked for quite a while until the night he decided it wouldn’t.  A long, week of studying for tests had taken its toll and he must have returned in the early morning, finding me asleep and vulnerable.  In the 80’s, to report rape by your spouse was not typically taken seriously and so I never told anyone. I bore my pain alone and the memories of child sexual abuse came flooding back into my life, with no way to control or anyone to hold onto, my world began to collapse.  We separated after that year and instead of celebrating my new freedom, I found myself in depression, suicidal, and alone.  I would survive, but a part of my would remain hidden for so very long; the best part of me…til now.

So go and read and know that corruptors always seek to take you down to their level and in almost imperceptible lines that you are imprisoned before you know you have been deceived; the Father watched over me, I would find my way out of prison, but remained imprisoned within myself; when my daughter entered into a relationship much like mine, I tried to warn her and she tells me now it wouldn’t matter because she was determined to do what she wanted…a good girl wanting to experience ‘life’ and finding instead…death.  But life would blossom within her and her child would be the impetus to bring forth a heart open to find good for herself and her child, with or without a partner.  Tormenters only seek to destroy life, jealous of what they see, what they perceive they never had or lost.  He sought to rob her but God gave life…and that life came to us all.  My mother, now paralyzed, voiceless after a stroke found life in a little one that laughs so heartily, tries with all his energy to do the ‘seal’ flop over to her silver table, hoping to pull it down before he’s caught.  He’s learned to nod his head side to side as he spits out his food as an objection to all forms of baby food that are intended to make green good…it isn’t.

So do not feel sorry for those of us who have survived….we lived on as a testimony to those who corrupt that there will always be a witness to their ugliness, one who will not be silenced by beating, cursing or loneliness.  One who no longer fear the dark or hide within the confines of lonely, dark places but resurrect from the wrappings of dirty, ugly, selfish hands and still hide within them the hope that does not disappoint and will yield the reality that ‘princes’ still exist and are good, and true and loyal, and strong, and looking for a princess, clothed in strength, humility, tenderness and vulnerability waiting to be loved, wanting to be loved, needing to be loved by one that is true of heart, pure and desiring to give love and receive it from another whose heart beats like their own.

Weep instead for those who will not feel the sun on their face in the morning, or the tenderness of a snowflake on their cheek, or the sound of a loved one saying goodnight and whose last moments were spent in agony, pain, humiliation, and desperation in being beat into submission to one who will find another like them when he/she destroys them.  Weep for the ones who will miss them, for a world that will not know them, and for the children they might have had that would have blessed a world so in need of love.  Tell someone you love them tonight. Hold them close. Kiss them. Whisper their name and be the reason they close their eyes in sleep, perhaps the last memory they will know…LOVE.

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