Skip to main content

To learn to see all of you with new eyes (self perception after leaving an abusive relationship)


I am 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 could not. I avoided mirrors, I could not look into her eyes.  The humiliation had made me vulnerable, I felt ashamed, did not 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 have learned to see my own beauty" in my post Thank You.

As I told before, he pushed me into things I did not want to do. 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 have 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 once 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 did not 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 did not 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 is 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 am sitting here, no longer feeling like an object, because no one should be. I am looking right at her and I am 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 learned. Shes looking right back at me right now. There are tears in her eyes, in my eyes. I am wiggling my toes again. I am here, They are tears of happiness.

Be comfortable with you 








Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Short texts on our tilting world

  Calling my bank back home in another European country to pass through SEPA payment for my public transport card here in the new but also safe and functional country where I despite the ever whispering inflation and grey employment market have managed to get some dream career related volunteership. This life is unpaid- but I have my "trustfund" (my own savings I worked for), a set of modern tools for any western situation and free libraries/workspaces for writing and life admin, free hostel leftover food and a keep-cup to sip my morning coffee from as a stroll around the city canals, its artwork and flowers. This life is safe. Be grateful for that. I try to numb myself for sanity and focus on that, as the bombs go off in other lands, as children are crying over the bodies of their loved ones, cradeling themselves with the last two limbs they have left, I try, for my own sanity, to turn off the images, focus on my coffee flavoured ice-cream from the small family busines...

My dream way of living; minimal housing, community, flexibility, nature, adventure

For a few years now I have wanted to live in a tiny house on wheels;           a mobile, ecological, minimalist grandmas cottage. Big windows, wooden floors, natural and warm yet bright surfaces,with pops of color (sunflower yellow kitchen cabinets, turquoise tiles or a single tea-pot) and Moroccan and Scottish throws and pillows. A spacious bedroom loft with a window in the ceiling, a small and not too heavy fireplace to keep the house warm during the winter (or just to boil tea and that cozy factor), a tiny wooden sauna room at the back with an inbuilt shower and half of a giant whisky barrel which could serve both as a sauna seat and bath tub. Storage space under the stairs (my goal is to have as little "stuff" as possible), a dinner table that comes up from the floor when needed, a couch/storage by the window. Wheels underneath to get to new exciting locations when needed (for work, other responsibilities or due to climate change), a few wooden fold box...

In a year

Do things feel like they are not going anywhere, like you are stomping your feet on the same piece of ground ? Has your heart just been broken ? Are you asking yourself; will I ever get over this.. does this pattern just repeat itself. I feel this way sometimes... stuck... in pain... in an emotional rut.. you name it....sniffling and incapable to see the light, although to be fair.. that light.. even in the darkest of times does, in small glimpses, a little here and there, make it through to reach my receptive self. But seeing the small pieces can sometimes be an exhausting process....in this piece I wanted to concentrate on something else, something bigger. The Magic in a Year. If you think back on last year.. how much has changed, how many bigger or minor heartbreaks have you concurred (and yes.. not still faced..) and how has your view on the world broadened ? How many adventures (some more sudden) has the past year taken you on ? How has your life changed within that year ? ...