Why Do I Shout About Gender-based Violence

Why do I shout about gender-based violence? Frankly, the answer is simple… Because I have been silent for too long! Yes, it is my time to speak up and speak out. Why? Because abuse does not go away if we ignore it. Much like the rest of society, I conditioned myself to partly ignore abuse. I did not want to, but I felt that speaking out was too risky. Why? Because it is likely that:

  1. People will not believe you.
  2. People will judge you.
  3. People will feel sorry for you.
  4. People will side with your abuser.

In other words… It is painful. It is painful to share personal pain publicly. It is like rubbing salt into a wound. But covering that wound with a band aid, does not make it go away. The wound needs exposure to heal, and when the scar emerges, it is not ugly. The scar tells a beautiful story of survival. Perhaps I sound a little abstract right now. Let me break it down…

At the age of 19, I entered an abusive relationship. He did not trust me, he accused me of things I did not do, he cheated on me, he lied to me, he badmouthed me to others, he recruited his friends and family to terrorize me telephonically, he called me vulgar names, he got physical with me a few times, and he even tried to strangle me once. He tried to use me financially. He wrote off my car, almost killing me and other passengers, whilst speeding and driving drunk in wet conditions at night. I left the relationship many times but kept going back over a period of 8 years! I went on to date other men but kept returning to him. I was trauma bonded to him and I did not know it.

What was the result of this relationship? I withdrew into a shell, became depressed and lost my confidence. Without realizing, I became a people-pleaser and essentially a doormat for everyone to use. After leaving him for the final time, it took me 7 years to recover from the abuse; to slowly rebuild myself. It took a lot of hard work, and grace from God, but I eventually liberated myself, and regained my confidence and joy. I thought I knew everything about abuse from this experience at a young age. I was convinced that it could never happen to me again because I would know better. But then…

At the age of 34, I entered a second abusive relationship. Yes, 34! I was not an inexperienced, naïve teen anymore. I was a full-grown, strong, independent, confidant, mature woman when this happened to me. And this time it was far worse! This abuse was not overt at all, so I did not recognize it and I did not see it coming. It was narcissistic abuse. This man insulted me, criticized me, judged me, belittled me, lied to me, objectified me and played manipulative mind games with me. He tried to control me and change my identity (personality, appearance, diet, political views and religious beliefs). He also tried to get money from me. He ripped my self-esteem to shreds. I only realized what was happening when the abuse changed from covert to overt. When I fell pregnant, his mask dropped. He began to harass me and stalk me because he wanted me to have to an abortion. When I refused to have an abortion, he went on to drug me without my knowledge, to kill our unborn baby.

What was the outcome of this relationship? My unborn baby was killed against my will, and my life was endangered in the process. I was living abroad at the time and had to flee the country for safety away from him. This meant leaving my home, friends, church and job. My entire life crashed to pieces, and I ended up with Complex-PTSD due to the abuse, trauma and grief that I experienced at the hands of this psychopathic man.

So how did I end up in a second abusive relationship? The answer is simple…. Lack of education! So yes, this is why I now shout about women abuse. I am not silent anymore because my story is education for women around the world. It is validation for them, and inspiration for them to also to speak up and speak out. I want to join my voice to the others who are making a difference today to bring about awareness.

After the first abusive relationship, I only understood what I had experienced. I did not have education about abuse. I did not understand what makes a woman a target, I did not understand what makes a man an abuser, I did not understand the patterns abusers follow, I did not understand the different types of abuse, I did not know that women keep falling into abusive relationships until they resolve wounds within their inner child, I did not know how to avoid being a target again, I did not know how to fully heal properly. All I ever had as a resource back then was The Oprah Winfrey Show, which helped me to a certain point at the time.

Now after the second abuse, my eyes have been opened to a whole new world of what I did not previously know about abuse. With the Internet, Facebook and YouTube now, I have had access to educational resources from multiple psychologists and survivors. I am convinced that if I had this education back then I would not have ended up in a second worse situation. In recent years, survivors have bravely come forward to tell their stories publicly about narcissistic abuse. The Internet is now flooded with resources to educate women (and men) about narcissistic abuse.

I wish I had the knowledge back then about narcissism, sociopathy and psychopathy. I wish I knew more about abusers’ motives for power and control. I wish I had heard of the terms like love bombing, idealization, devaluation, intermittent reinforcement, coerced reproduction, blame shifting, projection, discarding, gaslighting, triangulation, smear campaign, flying monkeys, bait and switch, trance induction, trauma bonding, Stockholm Syndrome, cognitive dissonance, hoovering, narcissistic supply, impression management, masking, pathological lying, narcissistic injury, narcissistic rage, dissociation, PTSD and so on. I wish I had heard of all the various healing therapies available. I wish I knew of all the subdivisions of abuse. It is not simply verbal, physical and sexual. There is spiritual, financial and psychological abuse too. I used to think that rape was about uncontrollable sexual desires. Can you believe I only learnt last year that rape is actually about power and control? Was I living under a rock all these years?

How is it that we, as women, are not educated about these things in high school? Why do women only learn about these things ‘post-abuse?’ Why do we only get help when it is too late? Why do we have to endure abuse a second time (or more) before we find information to help us?

Reader, please, I urge you… Please read up on these terms which I have mentioned. I promise you, it is a rabbit hole worth travelling down. Please teach your children about it. If you are a teacher, please teach your students about it. Please make the general public aware of it. Please use your various social media platforms to drive awareness, as well as any other public platform that you may have.

For lists of helpful resources to get you started, follow these links: 8 Book Suggestions for Survivors of Narcissistic Abuse and 10 Online Resources for Survivors of Narcissistic Abuse.

Within my small circle of family, friends, church and colleagues, I encounter dozens of women who have been deeply wounded by abuse in its various forms. I also encounter men who are hurt by narcissistic women. This must stop! We need to stand up against this violation of human rights, and we need to stand up for each other too. Silence is not the answer! We cannot stop the ongoing cycle of abuse by remaining silent. It is time we stopped caring about what people might think or say. It is time we braved our pain and exposed it to the salt that threatens to hurt us. The long-term cleansing that takes place, will be worth the initial sting of the pain.

So why do I shout about women abuse?

  1. It could save someone’s life, or at least save them a lot of trauma and damage. Educate, validate and liberate!
  2. It brings healing. Free your voice, free your pain!

As a final note, I want to say to those women who are still in danger of their abusers… Please be cautious about speaking out. Please consider if the abuser will harm you or your children for speaking out. If that is the case, I would advise that you only speak to trusted authorities for now. When it is safe, you can share your story with the world.

Nisha Devdhat is a South African born writer, using her words to spread love, bring healing and give hope, while educating and traveling the world. Currently, she is based in Asia as an English teacher.
Her writing portfolio includes articles, poetry and book reviews, which focus on the themes of literature, travel, education, abuse and trauma.
Nisha offers her writing skills to the public through her writing service. You could hire her as a freelancer to create content for your business or blog.
Nisha’s educational background is English Language and Literature, Teaching English as a Foreign Language, and Marketing Management.
Writing is Nisha’s way of expressing herself, externalizing emotions and practicing introspection. Writing provides her the opportunity to free her voice, challenge the status quo, and positively impact change in society.

IG: @nisha_devdhat
FB: @myunshackledmindwriter

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#savingme is the column where abuse victims can publish their experiences just to let go and find comfort and support. Maybe it doesn’t feel like much but just publishing your story for others to read makes you strong. You can send your story about the abuse you went through to savingmestory@gmail.com and you can choose if you want it to be anonymous or not. More details here. 

Coffee Date with Luna: Why?

Hello everyone and welcome to another Coffee Date with Luna!

Our theme of today is not a very nice one but it’s a necessary one. I understand that there are many important subjects we could discuss and write about here but I, as a survivor or domestic abuse and a person that knows damn well how the system works, have to speak about this.

Epstein. May he rot in hell for all eternity and may that abomination of a woman that’s in jail now join him after she spills the truth on everyone involved.  Disgusting. It is disgusting that the authorities knew about this while they were abusing and trafficking girls. We all know it’s all true. We all know those girls do not have a reason to lie and that they are just a drop in the ocean of millions of girls whose childhood and teenage years were taken away from them. Why aren’t we talking about the girls who were brainwashed, scared into submission, to the sisters that were IGNORED BY THE FBI WHEN THEY SPOKE UP YEARS BEFORE EPSTEIN HAD A RAPE ISLAND!!!!!

Disgusting. I could insult and rain shit on Epstein and Maxwell but let’s talk about the actual impact this has on women who are victims of any type of assault and abuse, not just sexual.

Why was Epstein able to do what he did?
Money

Why was he conveniently suicided when the eye of the public was on this case?
Power.

The two things that run the world and are well connected. This shit went to the top. Why is no one speaking about that carrot looking troll in the White house who is a known misogynist, who insulted women and said “you need to grab them by the pussy” – why is no one looking into his friendship with Epstein? Why is prince andrew still free? Why are we letting this happen in front of our eyes.

A victim has come forward and accused prince andrew and he is out while she is still fighting for justice.  Even if there’s a crown on your head or a title in front of your name, you will be held accountable. I think it’s just deplorable how the British press had more to say about Markle, how they harassed her while there’s an alleged pedophile in the “royal” family. We can also talk about how the “royal” family is not saying anything about this, but I do not have the whole day. All I will say that as long as the powerful protect the powerful, the rest of us are a long way from justice.

And this is what scares the shit out of me. This case went up to the top. Not only were judges, FBI and lawyers looking at this, the world was keeping up with this case. The world was looking at this and everyone involved is telling women all across the world that they need to shut up when they are assaulted because no one is doing shit about it.

We are literally looking at money buying a way out for pedophiles so why should women anywhere be encouraged to speak out not only on Epstein but on other men? I know what fear is and I know what it means to FIGHT FOR YOUR LIFE in a system designed to fail the victims and this is not an exaggeration. Why don’t we understand that women speaking out on assault and looking for protection are actually trying to save their life? Why do we need a dead woman, bodies piling up to realize that the fight against abuse is a fight for life?

True story now. I was a minor when I testified against my father and I mean, I was a minor! I have memories of my childhood very suppressed but I was somewhere between 10-12 years old. A psychiatrist who worked with my father stated that he is a man capable of killing. A trained specialist in his field described my father as a potential murderer. The police ignored us for years, there was actually a plot to get my sister and me away from my mom and we fought through everything, we got our day in court. Do you know what happened when 10-12 years old me stepped out of the judge’s room where I testified? My father was sitting there. The system that finally said “We are here to protect you before he kills you” let my severely violent father know that his underaged child was giving a testimony which will help to put him in prison. The fear I felt that day in something that cannot be described in words. For years I lived in fear of him escaping and killing the three of us. And just for the record, he did escape a few times from the facility where they held him after he got out of jail.

So these aggressions against women in the Epstein case by the system happen on a daily basis as well and why should women feel encouraged to step out or believe they have the right to protection if we are looking at pedophiles and rapists walking around freely while there are evidence and allegations against them?

I know that his coffee date has been a lot of WHY? But I believe you got my message. I am just here being 24 years old and still fighting my traumas, looking at this case and asking myself

When is this going to stop?

When are women going to have rights in reality, not just paper?

When will humanity be more important than money?

When will there be justice?

How many more victims are there?

How many more will there be?

Guest Post Information

This blog is expanding really fast, new followers are coming on board every single day and I’m thrilled! Our little community is not that little anymore!

Since new bloggers who join us have questions about guest posts and don’t feel like digging through the blog to find all of the previous posts here are the two ways you can guest post on Luna. I will probably repeat this post after every 200-400 new followers just to keep everyone up to speed.

So our beloved POETRY BAR – here you send your poetry works to poetrybar1@gmail.com together with a few words about yourself and a link to your blog and an Instagram account if you have one since The Poetry Bar does and we post your works there also. Check it out here:  https://www.instagram.com/the.poetrybar/

Our second guest post category is #savingme project – here you can share your stories about any type of abuse you’ve experienced. The email is savingmestory@gmail.com. The project was made to let abuse victims know they are not alone. If you don’t want to share your whole story, you can share how you got out, some advice to people going through this hell currently. It’s a safe place and your story can be published completely anonymously. Also, you can see that I post about my own experience with domestic abuse and not only my story but my thoughts, mechanisms that helped me overcome it etc.

Can’t wait to see what you send!

Sending love and positive vibes,
Luna

Guest Post information

This blog is expanding really fast, new followers are coming on board every single day and I’m thrilled! Our little community is not that little anymore! I went back to posting much more of my work to the blog because I had this period where I personally didn’t post that much and now it’s time for your lovely submissions to come in!

Since new bloggers who join us have questions about guest posts and don’t feel like digging through the blog to find all of the previous posts here are the three ways you can guest post on Luna. I will probably repeat this post after every 200-400 new followers just to keep everyone up to speed.

So our beloved POETRY BAR – here you send your poetry works to poetrybar1@gmail.com together with a few words about yourself and a link to your blog and an Instagram account if you have one since The Poetry Bar does and we post your works there also. Check it out here:  https://www.instagram.com/the.poetrybar/

Our second guest post category is #savingme project – here you can share your stories about any type of abuse you’ve experienced. The email is savingmestory@gmail.com. The project was made to let abuse victims know they are not alone. If you don’t want to share your whole story, you can share how you got out, some advice to people going through this hell currently. It’s a safe place and your story can be published completely anonymously. Also, you can see that I post about my own experience with domestic abuse and not only my story but my thoughts, mechanisms that helped me overcome it etc.

Can’t wait to see what you send!

Sending love and positive vibes,
Luna

#savingme – Solace and Sanity

Your hand released
Everything changed
Family extracted
Like I never existed

Lost

Little girl
Tear filled eyes
Stains down on her cheeks
Scars across her tiny body

Prisoner

Love, a foreign dream
Comfort, no such thing
Tragedy, encompassed grief

Suffering

Those dark brown eyes
Concealing what they have seen
Visual antipathy

Broken

Little smile
Pasted on perfectly
Something she learned
Authentic joy a mystery

Alone

Separated siblings
Mix and Match despite their feelings
Disposed of completely

Abandoned

Another child
Made to pay the price
Adult responsibilities
Addiction’s insanity

Violence

Seven years old
Lifetime of misery
Wise beyond belief
Desperately pursuing stability

Acceptance

Running to escape memories
Desperate for harmony
Just a little safety and peace

Solace

Wonderment in simple things
Never taking each breath for granted
Every day a new opportunity

Admiring

Thoughts infiltrating
Positive healing
Complete tranquility

Sunrise

Lost in the majestic beauty
Embraced by strength
Smile on her face
Kissed by the sunlight
Absolute comfort

Serenity

Blog: https://thebrokeninsideofme.com/

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#savingme is the column where abuse victims can publish their experiences just to let go and find comfort and support. Maybe it doesn’t feel like much but just publishing your story for others to read makes you strong. You can send your story about the abuse you went through to savingmestory@gmail.com and you can choose if you want it to be anonymous or not. More details here. 

#savingme – Why Me?

Another house
A new family
Why me
New school
No one knows me
why me
A different room
New monsters
why me
All alone
This house isn’t home
why me
Picked up and removed
They have no clue
Why me
My brother is gone
Can’t even call on the phone
why me
A million tragedies
Locked inside of me
why me
Remember smile and be polite
Complete strangers judging
why me
Examined under the light
Imperfection in plain sight
why me
Confused, damaged and all alone
Scary visions feel more like home
why me
Different than them
Only demons live within
Why me
Surviving the darkness
Hungry and cold
Why me
Sleeping on a bed of stone
Down by the river as viciousness unfolds
Why me

Written By

The Broken inside of me

https://thebrokeninsideofme.com/

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#savingme is the column where abuse victims can publish their experiences just to let go and find comfort and support. Maybe it doesn’t feel like much but just publishing your story for others to read makes you strong. You can send your story about the abuse you went through to savingmestory@gmail.com and you can choose if you want it to be anonymous or not. More details here. 

#savingme – Shame, shame

This is the hardest post I’ve made so far.

Shame is a hard topic for me. I hate parts of myself and I am working on healing them, but honestly it has not been easy for me.

I spent years feeling ashamed and alone. I had this idea in my head that if I let anyone get close, they would inevitably hurt me. I fought against myself. I would run away from relationships or I would let someone in and then push them away.

I started to add more Shame on top of the shame I already had. I started drinking to numb the pain, and all that did was cause more pain. I was stuck in a vicious cycle.

It wasn’t until a counselor told me that I had it all wrong, did I really start to understand the root of my fears. He taught me about transferred emotions. An idea that was foreign to me.

TRANSFERRED EMOTIONS

He explained that when we are young, under the age of 10 or so we don’t understand what shame is. Yes we know the difference between right and wrong. We can feel bad about something and scared of being punished, but at that age, shame is something we can only feel if it is transferred to us by someone else’s actions.

This is not to say you can’t have emotions transferred to you as an adult, you certainly can and it happens all the time.

For me it was the daily abuse, and eventually sexual abuse (at the age of 7),that I suffered from. It wasn’t until I was a teenager that I truly understood what happened. I felt dirty and unclean.

I kept asking myself questions:

Why did this happen to me?

Was I a bad kid?

Did I even deserve to live?

The last thought plagued my mind for almost 15 years and still surfaces now and then.

NOT YOUR FAULT

I don’t know if I’ll ever be fully healed, but at least I am trying. One thing I have figured out, is that I am not to blame for my abuse. There was nothing I could have done to change what happened, it wasn’t my fault.

I did make some choices that I am not proud of, and while I probably made some of these choices because of my trauma, they were still my decisions.

I am making amends with my choices in the best way I can, by being a better person. I have been sober for years and while there have been some slip ups, I have never stopped trying to be a better person.

I hope this helps other people who have gone through, or are going through similar situations. While writing this is harder than I thought it would be, it definitely makes me feel better than I thought it would.

So, if anyone out here has been through verbal, mental, physical or sexual abuse, it’s not your fault.

People make choices and no one has the right to abuse you, and you don’t have the right to transfer that emotion on to another, just because you were abused.

Abuse is never an option and you deserve better.

Blog: https://oneregulardad.home.blog/

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#savingme is the column where abuse victims can publish their experiences just to let go and find comfort and support. Maybe it doesn’t feel like much but just publishing your story for others to read makes you strong. You can send your story about the abuse you went through to savingmestory@gmail.com and you can choose if you want it to be anonymous or not. More details here. 

#savingme- How Do I Escape?

“Hey, kid! Get me some water!”

A surly, old man shouts from his table. I fill a jug and hurry to serve him before Father gives me the stink eye. I haven’t been performing well lately. Not in school. Not here, in the restaurant. Father owns a small restaurant and earns just enough to provide for the family and to quench his thirst for alcohol. Mom manages the restaurant most of the time because of Father’s incessant hangovers.

Someone shakes my arm and pulls me out of my reverie. Father. He looks at me with eyes full of angst and a wildness that comes from inebriation. I have good reasons to be afraid of him but I try to hide the dread whenever I can. I lower my head and walk to the nearest table, throw away the mushy leftovers from the plates and wipe the table. From table to table, I serve the food and clear the old plates, adding them to the pile I’ll have to wash later. Maybe, Mom will offer to help.

I wish I could get out of here.

I’m cleaning another table when Father calls at the top of his voice,”Patrice, come here!” My pulse quickens and I scurry towards him, legs shaking. What did I do now?

“What. Is. This?” Father asks with an eerie calmness which masks the wrath behind each word. I look up to see what he is pointing at: a greasy table with an oily plate on it and a couple waiting to sit there. I clean the table as swiftly as I can and apologize to the customers for the delay. They sit down, grunting and begin to skim through the menu. My eyes slowly creep up to see my fathers’ and his look of resentment says it all.

He’ll deal with me later. Later when he is drunk and when his anger gets the better of him. He’ll probably hit me and then I’ll cry myself to sleepIt has happened twice this week.

The sun is emitting its last rays and fear grips me as the evening wears on. My hands tremble when I serve the dishes.

I don’t want the day to end. I don’t want the day to end.

Father is nowhere to be seen. He must have gone to the liquor shop nearby. I shudder at the very thought and bury myself with work to prevent my mind from wandering. Mom is preparing the dishes along with Nancy, the other cook. Mom has often tried to stop Father from drinking but that just agitates him more. Mom and Father fight a lot and once, I’d even seen him slap her during an argument. That was the first time I thought about escaping.

Father returns with a bottle of liquor and I gulp involuntarily as my heart starts racing. I serve the dish to the last customer in the restaurant, hands trembling. I accidentally drop ketchup on him and a deep red botch covers his shirt. Fury takes over the customer and he yells profanities at me. To him, I’m just a stupid clumsy kid who can’t get a job done right. And maybe, I am. Father glowers at me and apologizes to the customer for my impertinent behavior.

As soon as the customer leaves, Father clasps my wrist and drags me to our house adjacent to the restaurant. Mom hurries behind us, begging him to stop and calm down.

“Unlock the damn door!” He growls at her. Mom wails as she opens the door, pleading him to be calm.

Once we’re inside, he pushes me forward, takes a swig from the bottle and slams it on the table. Mom pulls me aside by her hand protectively. With clammy hands and tears sluicing down her cheeks, she weeps uncontrollably. Father yanks me away from her and my only protection is gone. I feel…vulnerable. I don’t want to cry myself to sleep.

He shouts incoherently, “What was that, Patrice?!” I stand speechless, motionless.

The couple could have chosen another table. I want to say it. But I can’t.

Coward.

“What the hell was that, you stupidgirl?!”

I try hard to stop the tears from falling. I fail. I know what awaits me and I brace myself before it comes. He raises his hand and strikes my face.

A moment. Just a moment of intense, physical pain and a lifetime of haunting nightmares. A lifetime of suppressing the hurt and distress. Excruciating pain and fierce revulsion boils inside me. Blood rushes to my cheeks and tears obscure my vision, blocking my throat and wetting my face. Mom’s shrieks fill the silence and I just can’t lower my head anymore. I raise my head and glare right into his malicious eyes.

Father slaps me hard again and I fall to my knees, dark strands covering my face. I let out ugly sobs and look around wildly for the door. What am I thinking? I can’t run from home! Can I? How much of a coward can I be?

I try so hard to compose myself, setting my jaw and clenching my fists and I raise my face to look at him. He is about to hit me again when Mom stops him. He yells at her loudly but fatigue washes over me and I can’t hear a word he says. My abdomens feel hollow and my chest has become a tight burden. The tears block my eyes and the last thing I see before passing out is Father raising his hand again. But I don’t feel the strike. All I feel is the need to escape.


Hey guys!

My name is Rashi Singh and I love writing fiction. This is my site and I’d appreciate if you check it out.

https://fictivefinesseff.wordpress.com/

In many households, violence is a method of “teaching” and by teaching, I mean hitting them just because they don’t follow something or enforcing them to do things that they’d rather not do.

Please note that this piece is my story but expressed as fiction.

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#savingme is the column where abuse victims can publish their experiences just to let go and find comfort and support. Maybe it doesn’t feel like much but just publishing your story for others to read makes you strong. You can send your story about the abuse you went through to savingmestory@gmail.com and you can choose if you want it to be anonymous or not. More details here. 

#savingme – Will you even know the real me

Yes, I’ve been run down in life.

Yes, I’ve been beaten ruthless in life too.

Yes, I am stupid.

Yes, I am undesirable.

Yes, I am a screw up.

But, why can’t you tell me something positively amazing about me for a change?

Yes, I’m not beautiful.

Yes, I am hairy, for a girl.

Yes, I am dark.

Yes, I am stupid.

I’m sorry!

But, I’m sorry, I was born that way.

Emma, you are so dumb! How did you not get this math question right?

Emma, you’re so stupid! How do you still not know math?

With all the “subtle” situations have have gone wrong, I really wonder, was everything really my fault?

Emma, I just don’t understand, what do you do all day?

With all the thoughts running through my mind of snarky sarcastic comments to blurt out back to their face, I just smile and say, lots! You simply wouldn’t understand.

Let’s say I go back to work.

Why are you working as that position?

Why is your salary only so much?

You should get another job. This job doesn’t “suit” you!

Emma, your paints are ugly!

Emma, you’re not bright!

Emma, you’re a joke!

Do something else! Everybody is laughing at you!

Whether I do something kind,  unruly, or abrupt.

Looks like the blame is still coming to me!

After everything I’ve done, and the amount of smiles I’ve gathered from others, most so from strangers

I still wonder,

What will it take, for my own to see me? The real me?

After everything, many still ask me,

But, I don’t understand, why are you sick?

Then, some on the other hand, feel, hey! It’s great that she’s sick!

She’ll die faster!

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#savingme is the column where abuse victims can publish their experiences just to let go and find comfort and support. Maybe it doesn’t feel like much but just publishing your story for others to read makes you strong. You can send your story about the abuse you went through to savingmestory@gmail.com and you can choose if you want it to be anonymous or not. More details here. 

#savingme – You are a survivor

In my post “The story behind the name Luna” I shared a part of my story about domestic abuse. It actually gave me courage to dive deeper into this problem and open up about it here because I think this is a great community to share such stories and help each other. It took me years to speak about the torment my father put me through and I can relate to many children who were abused and today I want to write a little bit about how to deal with abuse after it’s done.

When I was 11,12 years old the problem with my father started solving and it wasn’t over until a few months ago. I haven’t lived with him for years and I last saw him and spoke to him about 5 years ago. That chapter of my life is over now but it still takes me a great amount of strength to close that chapter in my head. My problem was that I identified myself with what he has done to me and I believe that’s the problem of many abused children out there. We develop a bad opinion about ourselves based on what the person who abused us had done to us. We often feel like we aren’t worthy of anything, become introverted, depressed, scared to live the lives we deserve and we can’t step out of our pasts. Going through abuse leaves a strong scar on the one’s personality, sometimes even on our bodies and I will be quite honest and say it’s impossible to hide that scar or erase it so wear it proudly!

Don’t be ashamed of yourself and of who you are and of what you’ve been through. Instead of waking up every morning feeling like you are worth less than others, feeling like you will never reach happiness, wake up and say to yourself “I’ve been through hell and I survived that. World, bring it on because I can handle you!”. Don’t call yourself an abuse victim but rather call yourself a survivor because that’s what you are. Your body and mind were strong enough to handle the weight of abuse and I know how heavy that weight is and you are still here. You are biting and scratching your way through life. You know how to handle difficult situations and your power can never be drained out. Even when depression hits and you feel worn out just repeat those words to yourself.

Who you are depends only on what you want to be so be a survivor, be a warrior and show the world there’s happiness after abuse. Learn how to show your scars to the world and demand respect for them and respect your own past because if it wasn’t for it you wouldn’t be the strong person you are. Even if you feel weak, trust me you’re not. Shift your state of mind and you will turn your life around. Remember: You are a warrior, you are a survivor.

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#savingme is the column where abuse victims can publish their experiences just to let go and find comfort and support. Maybe it doesn’t feel like much but just publishing your story for others to read makes you strong. You can send your story about the abuse you went through to savingmestory@gmail.com and you can choose if you want it to be anonymous or not. More details here.