The Hurt

It doesn't matter what the gender or what the age. The questions are always the same. What did I do? What is their problem? Is it me? Why is this happening? What can I do?

It is one of the hardest things to admit or even go through but abuse is one of the greatest hurts. I hate to admit it, but I have been abused multiple times. My first boyfriend would start by just pinching me too hard the grabbing my arm harshly, to the point where he punched me. I had a bruises that I hid. I remember trying to leave him and my best friend was there. He struck me and I walked away for good.

My friend who had been there held me and later wrote a song that I listen to frequently. She sang of how she saw me being dragged down and changing because of the violence. She saw how broken I was.

I believed it was him and thought that I would never let a man or a boy for that matter hit me ever again. Then came another boyfriend, sweet and kind, nothing like the first guy... in the beginning. Later, we fought. There was always screaming and he would grab me. I would wear jackets to cushion the pain and thought I might be able to prevent bruises. The good days were so different however, he would always say he loved me, he bought me teddy bears and other stuffed animals, bought me jewelry. He was the first boy I thought I could care about, even my mother seemed to like him because he made me smile on those days. I made the mistake of thinking I would marry him as any naive Junior girl in high school thinks about her sweetheart. After one particularly violent screaming match and him making me flinch, I would walk away.

I started to wonder if it was some stroke of messed up luck that I would be involved in two abusive relationships.

I was wanting things to be different when I met yet another guy. Seemingly sweet, he bought me a necklace... after he had punched me in the face, sending my glasses flying. We had been play fighting with his boxing gloves when he turned and with quite a bit of power he would hit me. I excused it as play fighting. Looking back now I knew I should have at the very least said something, but we would always rough house a lot. With this relationship, he would be the one to leave me.

The last relationship I was involved in lasted a long time. I was proud. I had been with him for 15 months. The year was amazing, he was very smart, very sweet, very understanding. This young man made me happy. He listened and knew more about me than even my best friend. He was more than just a boyfriend, he was a friend, my jail mate, the person that could tell everything about me before I even said a word. He was my true first love. We would argue like all couples but we would work through it. He would be my greatest downfall though. In loving him, he would learn every secret, skeleton, remark about me. He would be there when I needed him. I loved him. One night in our thirteenth month we had been fighting late at night. Our voices had been raising and I snapped yelling what he wanted from me.
This would be the first time I would truly see him unhinge. He grabbed me shaking me like a rag doll. I froze, stiff and terrified. I wound up trembling and whimpering as he broke down saying how sorry he was calling himself a monster. After all those months of dedication and happiness I felt that it was my fault. I had provoked him like the others. I was truly my fault for pushing him to the edge. I made it a goal to be better, I would greet him, running into his arms showering him with hugs and kisses, bringing him whatever he wanted to drink, eat, did his laundry for him. I wanted to be as happy as I was before. After that night though, he would unleash, his eyes filled with anger, when he would yell and advance I grew accustomed to flinching and backing away just to shake, terrified that he would hit me or shake me again. I told myself that it was my fault. I had mad him angry and didn't do things right. I was asked not to tell my family that I was dating him, he did not want me leaving him to see my parents and I did not want to visit them in the state I was in, I lost contact with half my friends because I had him and i didn't need them. I was worried to talk to my friends that were male just because I felt as though I was cheating on him. The bad times got worse but the good times were still frequent.
I remember when I was so sick that I could barely walk, he carried me to bed and sat beside me. There was a point where I hadn't eaten for a day and a half. He was the one that made me food and spoon fed me because I refused to eat it. He sat there begging me to take "just one more bite, baby, just one more bite. Please". When I was healthy I remember the water fights we had, the smiles, the laughs we shared. These where the times I wanted to remember and think of rather than what bad things had happened.
I rarely ate in the end. I didn't want to get fat and I was to lazy to make myself something. When he wasn't there I would just lay around, be alone and walk the dog and when people were around I hid. Yet I would get online and look for anyone to talk to that didn't know me. I hunted for friends that could make me forget. When I did leave, I left because I couldn't be the person I had wanted and was lost. My mother was commenting all the time how skinny I was, and how I was so angry and I was very closed around her and my father. My ex would call saying how he loved me but then he became obsessive, angry, disturbed. I was scared to even be his friend. He wouldn't listen to my dad when he had told him to leave me alone, he would walk around my neighborhood. I became even more afraid to go out and became nervous, especially when I was around places I knew he went.

I was a strong girl, with strong opinions, who knew who she was, the one who researched multiple times on abuse and psychology, yet I became a victim. I was seen as the one who could take care of her problems and was always there for anyone when they needed me. I lost sight of who I was and never took time for me. I realize now that I was not the one at fault. Striking someone is not excusable. I am picking up the broken pieces that were once me and creating a new me. I am still scared, scarred, and sadly I still miss him sometimes but I know that I deserve better. I showed all the signs of abuse but was to afraid to speak up. We all have a voice. We need to use it! I wish that no person ever has to know abuse, but it does happen. We can't be scared. We need to stand up and take charge. It is the hardest thing to walk away and it is scary, but you can do it. I have had support of so many friends and family that love me, and I am eternally grateful to them.

Abuse can be stopped, we just need to have the voice. We don't want to admit it or think about it but we need to put a stop to it. It will just keep going on if we don't stop it. Think, do you want someone to be treated the way you are or were? Speak up! Don't hide in the dark forever. Reach for help. Yes it is hard and I know I didn't want to admit it and sometimes I still have trouble with it. I keep going though. I am not a very strong person, yet I did it. Be aware! If you even think that someone has a temper; get away! If you suspect that someone is being abused; call a help line!!!! There are so many things you can do.

All I ask is that we stand together and use our voice!!!!

Getting Up

How? How do we get rid of our dark feelings?
Sometimes we fall. We fall because we feel that the world has failed us and in return we have failed it. There are mornings when I wish I could forget it all and just pull the covers over my head yet again. We do not wish to eat, walk, or do anything. I do know how this goes, but recently several of my friends have told me they were depressed. I have tried to help in any way possible but I have run myself dry. When you are truly depressed, your life force drains, your appetite disappears, you just want to sit there (or in some situations lay there) and have your mind go blank. Some people who are truly depressed will go home and sleep for hours, not talking, not being, in a sense, human. When you are depressed most people can't handle the emotional, mental, or physical issues of life and if they can, it's usually not for very long.
I had a very good and rather close friend who I loved dearly. The moment she and I met, we clicked. We got along and understood each other. Well, she suffered from depression and I saw it every day. I know the way things seem to just hit you, because I suffered from it when I was younger. Well, she was very sick. Before it got to its climax, she and I would sit at lunch in a lonely hall and talk, laughing all the while and sharing stories of our classes. At the end, she became very reserved, even with me, she ran away multiple times, and when she laughed she tried to show she was fine, yet something told me otherwise. I knew that she had been trying to distract herself and be involved before completely losing the battle. She said very little to anyone, she was very angry, and then she stopped coming to classes all together. Her friend had died, sending her further into the dark, downwards spiral. I lost all contact with her for a month, found she was with family but lost contact again. The next thing I heard was weeks and prayers later. She, in desperation, had taken her own life after many attempts.
I was torn apart inside and I can only imagine how her family took it. I was unable to go to her funeral but for weeks after I sat there, alone, thinking dark thoughts to myself. I, myself, have gone through the struggles of depression. I should have hugged her more, I should have watched her more carefully, I should have stopped her from running away, I should have told her more just how much she was loved, especially by me.
It has been several months since that time and I still shed a tear every once in a while. At first I hated people for telling me that there was nothing more i could have done and that I was the best friend I could be. I did not believe them for a very long time. I knew the feelings. I should have been there to stop her. I have come to terms that I could not save her but I still try to save others, leaving myself for last until I collapse in exhaustion.
I know that there are many people that are depressed, that there are many people who can't forgive themselves, that wish they could sleep and never wake up. Well, I am here to tell you something.
Sleep. Rest and breath, but never give up. No one wants to hear people telling them to keep their chin up but I have realized you have to keep going. Even if all you can do is keep a little bit of your face above water; it's better than nothing at all. If you start to drown, lift your arm out and someone will grab it. You just have to try to keep breathing and let the tides do the rest. You'll sleep, you'll cry, you'll scream, and some may try to end their lives, but the last should never be an option. Never say that you are done for good. Take the day or the week. Take the month even; if it takes that long to gather your self and strength but never give up. If you keep pushing through the hell and the fire, it will get worse, but it will get far better. We fall and we get back up: that is the lesson we are taught as toddlers. Situations come yet so does the rest of your life!!!! Sleep, breath, and reflect on the good things life has. Everyone has at least one good thing in their life, even if it is just the fact that they like that they can breath.
Don't hide, let it out or you'll self-destruct. I am not saying to be happy all the time or even the majority of the time, but do not stay down forever. When down, let it all out then and then slowly but surely get up and dust yourself off.
Look at the sun the next time it rises and smile because you are strong. You are strong enough to make it through another day.