This begins a series of writings from women living in difficult, disappointing, or destructive marriages…or leaving destructive marriages/relationships. When women are physically abused the harm is often visible, but what about verbal and emotional abuse? The injury is internal…on the heart, soul, mind and strength. You may never guess her husband rages in a different way but the family knows. Her body knows and it often manifests in depression, anxiety, and/or auto-immune diseases. Allow me to show you the inner cries of this woman’s heart.
These are all true accounts from women I personally know.
First up is from a friend who struggled through difficulty and disappointment in her home life, and from destructive relationships in other areas of life. She now finds time to process her history through poetry.
We make out of the quarrel with others, rhetoric, but of the quarrel with ourselves, poetry —William Butler Yeats
Some Things I did not choose…
I never asked to live in Oklahoma.
I never asked to stay put, either.
I never asked for two complicated children.
I never asked for an exceptional marriage.
I never asked for PTSD.
I never chose to join a cult.
I never chose life on a battlefield.
I never chose the power to hurt others.
I never chose a trashed reputation
I never chose avoidance and insults.
I never chose severe isolation
I miss our partnership.
I miss my friends.
I miss my family.
I miss feeling safe.
I used to rest.
I used to laugh.
I used to sing.
I used to please people.
I used to feel valued.
I used to warrant respect.
I used to speak freely
I used to love openly, honestly.
I used to live surrounded by forgiveness.
I used to count on friends.
I used to hold a purpose.
I used to know where I was headed.
I used to decide.
I used to enjoy life with kids.
I used to revel in marriage.
I used to host all kinds of people.
I used to feel satisfied I’d done some good now and then.
I did not choose to tangle with depression.
I did not choose neglect.
I gradually quit thinking.
I gradually quit growing.
I gradually quit loving life.
I hate living within a battlefield.
I hate parenting in loneliness.
I hate misogyny, and chauvinism.
I hate denying myself food.
I hate anonymity.
I buried my gifts.
I buried my reputation.
I buried a child.
I buried myself.
(a post written earlier this year, and published on another blog of the author of maknsweetmusic.blog )
Used with permission/copyright/2018 by maknsweetmusic.blog