TRUE LIFE: The Part Of Me I’ve Been Hiding

I just finished watching MAID on Netflix.

Tears are still rolling down my cheeks.

Especially when it comes to Alex and stepping into her world of domestic violence.

Very well written and filmed.

What if l told you that l was Alex and my bruises are all healed now?

Most nights l can’t sleep. l get my best sleep between 5am and 3pm.

I feel like my entire life is a lie, because l am still unable to truly ask for the help that l need by those l say l love and trust.

I’m afraid of being homeless. I first became homeless at 15.

I’ve been homeless more than 10X in this lifetime.

I value my bed.

And although he lies next to me in it sometimes, l still don’t want to give it up.

To go without it again.

Alex was so brave.

I fear because I’m a black girl that it’s expected of me to be in a successfully abusive relationship.

Or because of all of my lies to disassociate with a DV victim that no one would ever believe me.

Or because l never filed a police report it’s my word against his.

Or because my scars are just scars and not wounds anymore.

Or because I’ve chosen for the longest time to protect his image over my own.

Because when it’s all over l quietly pick up the mess: sweep the glass, bring my clothes back inside, clean the blood droplets off the floor all the while pretending I’m not doing any of this.

Alex made it look so easy. So beautiful and elegant while cleaning and crying.

The physical abuse hurts…oooooh does it hurt. So bad.

But the verbal and emotional abuse in the forms of yelling, screaming, profanity, throwing glass, pushing, shoving, gaslighting, manipulation, being locked out for hours and having to break in, is what stays for ever.

The loud voices I’m trying to calmly combat with affirmations and positive thoughts.

Trying to not let them sink in because once they do they seem to be more permanent than the physical scars.

Black girls and domestic violence.

Girls and domestic violence.

Moms and domestic violence.

Me and domestic violence.

I don’t have anything else to say.

My anxiety is through the roof and l can only imagine what you’re thinking of me, cause I’m thinking it too.

Shame and domestic violence.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.