but the abuser is our own body.
...
..
..
.
.
.
It happens slowly.
A little at first.
Just enough for you to still function, without anyone knowing.
You still have pockets of happiness, that you cling to like a life line.
You believe it's only temporary...things will get better. It's this thought, that helps you get back up....over and over.
You smile and all who see you, think everything is fine...."she must just be tired".
They don't know how hard you're struggling to look and act "normal"...whatever normal is...it's been so long, you can't remember any more.
It escalates.
You stop showing up. Excuses are made. No one believes you when you try to tell the truth. You can't see the bruises, but they're there. Then people stop asking. Isolation creeps in. You feel cutoff from everyone. You have never felt so lost and alone.
You waken to another morning, laying there, contemplating another day of being beaten. But you think of your loved ones and get up, because the other alternative is not an option.
You tip-toe through life on eggshells,
afraid you might provoke it.
Knowing full well how much it will hurt.
Knowing how bad you will feel after.
Things need to get done. Who else will do it for you? You push thru. You do what needs to be done, regardless of consequences.
You try to mask it with medication first, then alcohol and drugs, but nothing works. So what's the point? The problem is still there. It won't go away. You can't make it go away.
You dream of running away.
Away to somewhere quite and safe.
A place where you can find peace.
But...
You can't escape, because no matter where you go, it will find you. You are trapped, helpless,
knowing no one can help you.
You read while everyone is asleep. Searching for an answer, only to find the forever dangling carrot, always out of reach.
Day, after day, after day,
it's the same.
And still, you kiss your loved one's goodnight and get into bed with the hope tomorrow will be better.
But it's not.
By
Suz Hills Van Brunt
Just enough for you to still function, without anyone knowing.
You still have pockets of happiness, that you cling to like a life line.
You believe it's only temporary...things will get better. It's this thought, that helps you get back up....over and over.
You smile and all who see you, think everything is fine...."she must just be tired".
They don't know how hard you're struggling to look and act "normal"...whatever normal is...it's been so long, you can't remember any more.
It escalates.
You stop showing up. Excuses are made. No one believes you when you try to tell the truth. You can't see the bruises, but they're there. Then people stop asking. Isolation creeps in. You feel cutoff from everyone. You have never felt so lost and alone.
You waken to another morning, laying there, contemplating another day of being beaten. But you think of your loved ones and get up, because the other alternative is not an option.
You tip-toe through life on eggshells,
afraid you might provoke it.
Knowing full well how much it will hurt.
Knowing how bad you will feel after.
Things need to get done. Who else will do it for you? You push thru. You do what needs to be done, regardless of consequences.
You try to mask it with medication first, then alcohol and drugs, but nothing works. So what's the point? The problem is still there. It won't go away. You can't make it go away.
You dream of running away.
Away to somewhere quite and safe.
A place where you can find peace.
But...
You can't escape, because no matter where you go, it will find you. You are trapped, helpless,
knowing no one can help you.
You read while everyone is asleep. Searching for an answer, only to find the forever dangling carrot, always out of reach.
Day, after day, after day,
it's the same.
And still, you kiss your loved one's goodnight and get into bed with the hope tomorrow will be better.
But it's not.
By
Suz Hills Van Brunt
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