I'm sitting here on the floor with a cup of tea in my hands, wiggling my toes. The mirror is right in front om me and my newly washed hair makes me look like a natural Aretha Franklin or a very fluffy Chewbacca, both probably equally as cute.
It feels quite nice to be able to sit here with myself like this, to just be here, here with me. For a long time I couldn't. I avoided mirrors, I couldn't look into her eyes. The humiliation had made me vulnerable, I felt ashamed, didn't want to see her, me, and I also avoided facing the truth, the pain I knew I could see in my eyes.
I want to explain what I meant by "Thank You for Humiliating me, for I've learnt to see my own beauty" in my post Thank You.
As I told before, he pushed me into things I didn't want to. As the years went by I fell into silence I stopped having an own opinion or to say it out loud. I accepted that this was the only kind of closeness that I would get, so though it hurt that he treated me that way, I chose to settle. All I wanted was love. On some level I also started to believe that that was all I was worth.
The constant humiliation and degrading came in many forms; I've been cooking for him (well cutting up an avocado to be exact) at a midsummer's party, walked outside and found him telling and showing all of his friends what he likes to do to me,.. When we met I told him about a lot of my insecurities, he promised that he would never hurt me, always respect me. In a second my heart was broken ones again. He took a picture of my strapless shoulder, neck and chin while I was a sleep and posted it on social media, calling it "weird human angles". His best friends degrading jokes didn't make things exactly easier. For a long time I felt like an object. I cried often in the shower, sometimes he ran to comfort me and others to grab me for his own pleasure. I never knew which one it would be. It didn't matter if I had tears in my eyes.
To be in a towel in our apartment, that which was supposed to be my home, that's where I felt the most uncomfortable. the mirror was the scariest thing. Whenever he saw me like that or dressed up for a party he chose to whistle. He never called me ugly, but he also never called me beautiful, He never had an normal approach. I felt like an object. I just wished then that he had seen me.
When I had found my way to Bollywood for that one hour a week I did everything I could to avoid my reflection in the mirrors, ones he asked me to show him my dancing, I felt happy and did and in the same moment he turned it into something else.. I had finally found A piece of me, and just as that, that piece was close to be ripped away.
But now I'm sitting here, no longer feeling like an object, because no one should be. I'm looking right at her and I'm proud of her. I made it out, I picked myself up. I stood up, broke the silence and said No more. Life Is beautiful.
Me, beautiful, in my own special way, Me; with my thick sometimes extremely messy hair. Green eyes, uneven hip. Me; with my clumsiness and bad coordination but who still keeps on dancing and decided to hold on to that piece. Me; who can be here, here with me, laugh from somewhere deep and true and find amusement in my funny ways. Me; who now believes and knows deserving better.
Shame is not easy to rinse away, and for a long time still after that, I avoided my reflection, but by teaching myself to be here with me, to be comfortable with me, trough that I have learnt. Shes looking right back at me right now. Theres tears in her eyes, in my eyes. I'm wiggling my toes again. I'm here, They´re tears of happiness.
Be comfortable with you <3
It feels quite nice to be able to sit here with myself like this, to just be here, here with me. For a long time I couldn't. I avoided mirrors, I couldn't look into her eyes. The humiliation had made me vulnerable, I felt ashamed, didn't want to see her, me, and I also avoided facing the truth, the pain I knew I could see in my eyes.
I want to explain what I meant by "Thank You for Humiliating me, for I've learnt to see my own beauty" in my post Thank You.
As I told before, he pushed me into things I didn't want to. As the years went by I fell into silence I stopped having an own opinion or to say it out loud. I accepted that this was the only kind of closeness that I would get, so though it hurt that he treated me that way, I chose to settle. All I wanted was love. On some level I also started to believe that that was all I was worth.
The constant humiliation and degrading came in many forms; I've been cooking for him (well cutting up an avocado to be exact) at a midsummer's party, walked outside and found him telling and showing all of his friends what he likes to do to me,.. When we met I told him about a lot of my insecurities, he promised that he would never hurt me, always respect me. In a second my heart was broken ones again. He took a picture of my strapless shoulder, neck and chin while I was a sleep and posted it on social media, calling it "weird human angles". His best friends degrading jokes didn't make things exactly easier. For a long time I felt like an object. I cried often in the shower, sometimes he ran to comfort me and others to grab me for his own pleasure. I never knew which one it would be. It didn't matter if I had tears in my eyes.
To be in a towel in our apartment, that which was supposed to be my home, that's where I felt the most uncomfortable. the mirror was the scariest thing. Whenever he saw me like that or dressed up for a party he chose to whistle. He never called me ugly, but he also never called me beautiful, He never had an normal approach. I felt like an object. I just wished then that he had seen me.
When I had found my way to Bollywood for that one hour a week I did everything I could to avoid my reflection in the mirrors, ones he asked me to show him my dancing, I felt happy and did and in the same moment he turned it into something else.. I had finally found A piece of me, and just as that, that piece was close to be ripped away.
But now I'm sitting here, no longer feeling like an object, because no one should be. I'm looking right at her and I'm proud of her. I made it out, I picked myself up. I stood up, broke the silence and said No more. Life Is beautiful.
Me, beautiful, in my own special way, Me; with my thick sometimes extremely messy hair. Green eyes, uneven hip. Me; with my clumsiness and bad coordination but who still keeps on dancing and decided to hold on to that piece. Me; who can be here, here with me, laugh from somewhere deep and true and find amusement in my funny ways. Me; who now believes and knows deserving better.
Shame is not easy to rinse away, and for a long time still after that, I avoided my reflection, but by teaching myself to be here with me, to be comfortable with me, trough that I have learnt. Shes looking right back at me right now. Theres tears in her eyes, in my eyes. I'm wiggling my toes again. I'm here, They´re tears of happiness.
Be comfortable with you <3
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