Hello everyone😍
I would like to thank you all for taking the time to read my work.
I would also like to thank you all for your kind upvote.
My first ever sponsor- forgive me I forgot his name 😞
I’m still learning how to get around this place. I need to learn tagging etc.
I will mention my sponsor next time and upvotes kindness.
Kindly allow me time to work this place.
I’m exhausted today, so I’ll skip writing for today, hopefully tomorrow I will have the head and energy to write.
Have a great day- Goodnight 💕
If I Could Turn Back Time - Love marriage and regrets
Nothing could bring back the beautiful times I had with my husband before we had babies.
While they were bitter-sweet at times like any marriage, they were also filled with love, compassion, and unity in so many levels.
The emotional connection is too deep, too strong, and too real, there are no words good enough to elaborate it in details.
I know deep in my heart I have said so many things that has hurt him, and while I'm desperate to put it right, to wipe them away for good, I also know I can’t turn back time.
I can’t apologize enough, no matter how remorseful i, maybe.
My words have spilled like a glass of water, I could never be able to put the same water back, I could never be able to fill up the cup of untainted love we once had.
It’s no longer as pure as it used to be, it's now stained with hurtful words and ill feelings, doubts has shadowed our once pure and deep love. If I could turn back time, I would, and it would never have any regrets, life, and love would always be sweet as like running honey of heaven.
No one warned me, no one told me, marriage is a fragile business. No one advised me of its shape edges, and it’s smooth, slippery surfaces.
Perhaps we’re supposed to learn through experience, perhaps the struggle in itself is a test of one’s sincerity and pure love.
I’m sure my parents went through the same thing, it’s part of marriage, there’s no marriage made in heaven because we are not in heaven.
We are human, mistakes is part of our growth to be better humans, however to teach others what we have learned is also part of human and one must see this important part of their existence and act upon it.
We will never be a perfect man or a perfect woman, but we can try to be considerate and look beyond the moments of disagreements.
I teach my children everything we went through, it’s my job, to reveal
the truth, so they may be saved from the same regrets and doubts of their capabilities to be in a marriage.
Perhaps if my parents gave me advice or two about marriage, I wouldn’t be the woman I was.
Children don’t have to believe their parents were so happy and never had any issues.
Children deserve the truth in everything about life, it’s our job to protect them, from getting themselves stuck in the mud of actions that could be prevented, if we were responsible enough to teach them. After all, it’s our job to guide them in life.
What’s the point of professing your love for the other, if you're just going to throw rubbish and black paint of doubt and hurt over it?
Love doesn’t hurt, doesn’t humiliate, love doesn’t compete to be right and to prove the other wrong on falsehood.
Love cares, it’s patient, compassion, it’s not confrontational, is peaceful and forgiving.
If we do, to each other, what doesn’t represent love, then there’s a need for us to question our love.
We either correct and change our ways, or let it go, let each one find a better other person that can give them real love because everyone deserves real love.
The world, your friends, families, and neighbors don’t live with you, don’t heal your problems, they don’t suffer your unhappiness in a marriage of disrespect and hate.
We must be honest with ourselves, be honest with our other halves. There isn’t much time in this life to live a happy life.
We’re better off correcting our ways, and fix ourselves to allow us to enjoy the rest remaining of our lives, while we can.
Having said that, there’s always plenty of room for improvements if we want to.
Anything can be fixed to perfection, if we are sincere and willing to do the work needed, for it to come perfect.
Thank you for taking the time to read 😇😍
copyright- @Bree - 2021
Behind an Agonising Mind-mums; kids, depression.
There’s no morning, no afternoon, no evening. I’m just breathing, my head dug in the pillows every day.
Days joining, they’ll all the same, they have no names.
Dishes pile in the sink, on the bench. One day, two days, three days, still piling waiting for me, but I’m not living, I’m just breathing.
And every time I try to get up and out of the bed to clean the house, I fall back in the bed, I have no energy left. I’m running on empty.
Night fall today, tomorrow and so on, but I don’t see, and I don’t feel
Any changes with the days. I’m living under a dark cloud, I can’t see out, and I can’t see within.
Days become long, nights becomes endless and life becomes an ongoing battle, there’s no winner, there’s no loser, there’s no end.
Every day and every moment are the present, there’s no today, no yesterday, no tomorrow. A repeated pattern of emotional, mental and physical havoc makes up my world.
Children have needs, they need to eat, they need clean clothes, they need clean beds and clean
rooms. Interaction to be human like normal human do, a part of children growth, stolen from them.
But I’m crippled, with depression, I'm helpless and hopeless. I'm falling on me for help and I couldn’t catch myself.
I can’t help myself, I can’t help the situation.
Every day, I hope tomorrow will be better, and everyday it only gets worse. What is a mother to do?
I lost myself, lost my dignity, lost my pride, my home that was once the Center of our world, vanished in a blink of an eye.
All what is left now, is a woman lost within herself. A woman who doesn’t recognize herself in the mirror.
I became a hostage within my soul, I’m the enemy of myself.
No hand extended to pull me out of this misery. My life hanging from a thin thread of medications changing every time they give up on me.
While I’m still here waiting for mercy from heaven, I tell myself there will be better days ahead.
The journey maybe long and odorous, but a good captain never gives up.
I’m shattered in a million pieces, God help me to put myself back together. Children need a strong mother, to sail through the rough waves to see them to the shores safe.
Family times, a distant memory. Family dinners, getting less and less.
My world falls apart in-front of my eyes. All I could do, is to look on, watch myself unravel, my life crumble.
My heart bounding, for the imprisonment of my soul to come to an end. I’m desperate for a rescuer to cut me free of the chains locking my soul up to my head.
Sunlight blinding my eyes, and the darkness of hollowness squeeze me out of sanity.
P. S I’m going to end this here because it’s very long, 💕
copyright: @Bree - 2021
Bitter Freedom-For the sake of your sanity.
It’s the day I never expected it would come this fast.
It’s been two years since mother passed away.
From the very second I was told she has passed away I never stopped feeling the pain of grief I have never experienced this way, it was at times too much to bear, too much to ignore.
The guilt and what if? Was like petrol added to the fire
I would stand at the window in the kitchen, a plate in one hand and a scourer in one hand frozen on the kitchen sink.
My mind hallucinating mother in her white dress, pearl necklace and red lipstick as when I saw her for the last time laying in her coffin-standing under the trees behind the kitchen, smiling at me.
Tears flowing down my cheeks, my chest tight and my head pounding.
My mind a million miles away from my body and the clock of the present stands stills.
Missing the woman I lost for twenty years, only to find her again for the last time without ever having to see her while breathing.
I’ve been hoping for a reunion to heal the wounds.
To kill the pain and to start a journey to opening doors to some answers to the questions I’ve been burying in my heart, weighing me down, and wearing me out of my sanity, and being.
I was hoping we could use this opportunity to build a bridge to connect as a mother and a daughter for the first time ever since I was born in a cruel world full of lies, abuse, disregard, evil and betrayal.
There was always a strange feeling over my body when I talk to mother.
Twenty or so years of no contact have added more strain to an already fragile relationship.
When mother was alive, we talked regularly. When I hear her voice, It sounds eerily strange and unfamiliar to my ears. It's a sound I haven’t heard before.
I felt a part of who she is and what she was like, a part strange to me.
It felt weird, unfamiliar, strange as our relationship as a mother and daughter.
Though this was my mother I was communicating with, but the feeling in my heart was more of a friend to friend relationship.
I noticed mother at times was giving advice that is worth holding on to, and at times she was like a good friend with a good heart that always makes you laugh.
Many times, I wasn’t certain how to push forward towards building a strong pond and a loving relationship that would be strong in every way that would not allow the past to live on.
Mother was strange in many ways, I realized I didn’t know the woman in mother, her characters as a woman her personality as a person.
I grew up knowing mother as just a mother figure, that makes me cry almost every single day of my life, a mother to fear and to resent. I never got to know the woman who became my mother.
Throughout the years I had contact with mother, after we got cut off for twenty years. I had to learn to feel like a daughter would, to her mother.
The years apart, the past that never let me free, all came in the middle, the gap was too wide to be unnoticed.
At times, I felt relieved the conversation was over, at times the conversation cause me depression and pain.
At times mother would message me to call she wants a chat. I would give her a call to talk about her day what she did, what she had for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
I found ringing mother at night particularly hard and depressing.
It felt weird, unfamiliar, strange as our relationship as a mother and daughter.
Though this was my mother I was communicating with, but the feeling in my heart was more of a friend to friend relationship.
I noticed mother at times was giving advice that is worth holding on to, and at times she was like a good friend with a good heart that always makes you laugh.
Many times, I wasn’t certain how to push forward towards building a strong pond and a loving relationship that would be strong in every way that would not allow the past to live on.
Mother was strange in many ways, I realized I didn’t know the woman in mother, her characters as a woman her personality as a person.
I grew up knowing mother as just a mother figure, that makes me cry almost every single day of my life, a mother to fear and to resent. I never got to know the woman who became my mother.
Throughout the years I had contact with mother, after we got cut off for twenty years. I had to learn to feel like a daughter would, to her mother.
The years apart, the past that never let me free, all came in the middle, the gap was too wide to be unnoticed.
At times, I felt relieved the conversation was over, at times the conversation cause me depression and pain.
At times mother would message me to call she wants a chat. I would give her a call to talk about her day what she did, what she had for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
I found ringing mother at night particularly hard and depressing.
Mother would be watching the TV when I ring her, she would be having a cup of tea. I could feel the loneliness, and it breaks my heart.
I felt it would be better not to hang up, I preferred not to finish the conversation as we talked. I would ask mother for the time on her end, and I would ask her what she’s going to do for the rest of the night.
She would say something like, she is about to go to bed, or she would say she’s going to take a shower as it’s late past 10:00 pm.
When mother want to do something before bed, I would usually say. Okay, I’ll let you go to the shower, it’s getting late.
We say goodbye.
At the end of the conversation I would feel a feeling of sorrow, my heart unease the thoughts of mother living alone hits me hard.
Sadness fills my heart. I feel what I never felt for mother as a mother.
God knows, how many times I wish I have always felt this way about mother.
I would have never lost her for more than 20 years and our lives as mother and daughter would have been perfect, and I would probably still be living with her.
The starting point of our journey as a mother and a daughter was deprived of love and compassion as a result, the roots of a healthy relationship was destroyed and could not be revived for many years to come.
No flood of tears could bring mother back, and no flood of tears could repair the damage done. We would be forever estranged, and I would be forever drowned in the sorrow of a mother and daughter lost in a mysterious world I couldn’t explain.
Grieving took so much from me, I could barely function, I could breathe life in my soul.
Over ten years suffering depression and now, this.
Everything I wanted to ask mother, to get the answers I desperately needed, not for just knowing them, but with hope it will help me move past an agonizing painful childhood memories, ripping through my heart.
Everything was about to change, I’m about to breathe and live again
Cindy and Sara were two sisters who were sadly killed by their mother, then got their brothers to help her dispose of the bodies. (True story)
Stella would beat her children and get their siblings to hold them down as she beats one of the children.
She would order the children to fetch a belt or whatever tool to beat the other child/children with.
It was the story that awakens the memories I have already cast aside, waiting patiently for the day when I can finally and slowly buried them once and for all.
The brutality of a mother towards her children, the cruelty of a woman who’s incomprehensible to any human.
The fear in their eyes, of vulnerability and helplessness. The imprisonments of their gentle souls.
My airways collapse, I felt death all over me. As I questioned Stella cruelty to her blood and flesh, my childhood life of fear and misery gushes through my blood veins.
Images of mother cruelty, without remorse, invaded my mind. Tears start raining down my face, heat of anger raising to my head, hate, and rage towards mother engulfed my body right through my veins.
A moment of intense pain and despair as my mind in turmoil slowly calming down bringing the grief I’ve been carrying around since mother died.
As I lay my head down on my pillow, I felt my heart screaming, tears gushing down my pillow, I couldn’t stop them.
The shower has been a respite for me for years at times of deep sorrow and pain.
I went to the shower and sat under the running water, and just sob.
God knows how long it was.
My poor husband knocking on the bathroom door, checking on me from time to time.
My chest and my head deflated. I bow farewell to the suffering, the pain, the guilt I have been enduring as I grieve a woman known only as a mother figure from the outside, as she wasn’t anywhere inside me.
The throne of a mother in a child’s heart was missing from my heart. No throne, no mother, no crown.
My anger subsided. My heart rested.
The air from outside through my bathroom window smells freedom, fresh and liven.
I felt freedom like a cool stream running through my chest. The burden I’ve been carrying around since mother passed away flushed out of me.
There are no words to describe the feeling in my heart at that very moment.
There is life in the freedom of one's pain and suffering from deep inside their souls. Freedom from guilt and pain inflicted on one’s being by others is a treasure worth searching for.
I may have not been able to serve my parents in the later years of their lives, especially mother since she was living alone after father has passed on and her children scattered around the world, but I believe I could not have changed our destiny even if I really wanted.
Regrets are of no use to anyone, except it becomes a dagger in your heart that prevents you from living, from progress and most of all, a main ingredient in the creation of more regrets if you drown in guilt, forgetting your children and husband emotional needs and time with you.
I’m grateful for this opportunity to see myself through past the narrow neck of freedom and relief from the darkest of countless hours of stormy days and nights, stuck in the mud of an ugly childhood I’m ashamed of.
Mismanaging regrets has a devastating, destructive outcome, not only on you, but those who love you. The people, you could give your life to save theirs, as they would give theirs to save yours.
Though I am free of guilt, grief and regrets, lacking a better word, I still wish things didn’t have to be the way it was.
It’s a bitter freedom, I have managed to live through it and my depression taking a turn for the best. As I unload the burden of my past, a little at a time.
Every day I’m grateful to the kind Lord for what I have, and for the people around me who love me deeply, even when I was a burden to carry for more than a decade due to my depression.
When I look back to the time when I was so miserable at the peak of my depression, I realized how much my husband and my children love and cared about me.
On the other hand, I recognize my struggles and strength battling each other.
I am part of the story, I will not deny myself the honor I deserve.
I will not give myself a lower value than I have earned. I stand tall, determine to highly value and acknowledge my service.
Furthermore, I love, care and appreciate the woman I am.
It’s out of my respect and compassion for my soul that will shape a far better and improved woman in the future(God willing).
I support myself in every possible way to survive and thrive with contentment and peace.
Freedom comes in many shapes and forms. Freedom from the burden of pain and all unfortunate circumstances out of our control is the sweetest of all freedom.
It’s the golden tool, that will allowed you to focus on yourself and what’s essential to you.
It’s the silver plate that will serve you all your success and achievements in life, the things you wanted to gain and did in peace and contentment.
copyright-@Bree
Why Do Women In Abusive Relationships Stay?
It’s not that they don’t want to leave. But rather it’s the trauma that paint a picture of the worst, inducing fear that makes anyone buckle to the abuser.
Not only that, but it’s not love, as they often claim to be the reason they don’t leave.
Furthermore, it’s lack of confidence in themselves, they don’t feel they can look after themselves and their children.
Their abusers have made them believe they can’t survive without them. After hearing this over a period of time, the abused believe it, undoubtedly.
It’s not a belief from their hearts, it’s an idea deeply rooted in their souls. They have been made to think and believe they’re incapable, they have been emotionally tuned to feel stupid.
As they get isolated from families and friends. They slowly start to feel comfortable in their abusive environment, they accept the circumstances they’re living in because there’s no one in the outside world that can offer an ear to hear their pain.
They have no one to talk to. No one to convince them, to leave, no one to encourage them to do the right thing. No one to offer them help to escape.
Their abusers make sure they will not have the means and the resources to get away.
There’s always a conflict in their minds. The desperate need for a stable family, a loving relationship, a functional family.
Women and men a like in these situations, do want to get away. However, hope is their first approach, there’s so much hope things will change, this usually at the start of the abuse.
There’s confusion as to how did they reach this stage. How did a wonderful man or woman who was once a source of happiness and comfort to one’s soul became a spear in their heart, a cause of pain and anguish?
When the abuser apologizes and show affection, they make it up, it’s a moment of great relief for the abused. There’s a sense of joy. All the abuse became nothing more than just a bad dream.
This temporary feeling of hope and disappointment becomes a pattern. They find themselves stuck in a cycle that was building through their journey of hope.
By the time they realized, he’s not going to change, things had gotten worse.
All the death threats becomes real, and what was once hope had vanished, in its place is fear, low self-esteem, shame, anguish, and conviction this is it.
They are convinced there’s no way out, no one can help.
They were taken away and isolated from their families and friends, fear and helplessness overcome them.
It becomes a matter of waiting, not for freedom, but for the day he will kill her. With children, they are convinced, their children are in danger as well.
The overwhelming power of fear paralyzed them, they reside to submission with absolute obedience as a form of protection. It’s their only lifeline to hang on, to keep their heads above the waters.
By the time these women make it away from their abusers, the hole left inside their souls of emotional and physiological damage is only one’s hope it can be rescued and repaired.
When you asked these women the question, why did they stay on? Why did they not find help? Why did they not ring the police?
Their answer is simply “because I love him”
Stay because of love
The real truth has nothing to do with love. Throughout their lives under the same roof with their abusers, these women are totally under the control of violence.
There is no time to feel any love for anyone, including their abusers, there’s only fear around the clock, constantly wondering what’s next, constantly watching out for their words when they speak, their actions, even the way they sit.
So, why they claim love as the reason they stayed on?
It’s simple, they are confused and lost in the chaos of a long struggle.
They have no better explanation. They are exhausted.
Being free doesn’t fix things instantly, it doesn’t heal the damage done, it doesn’t undo years of abuse.
It’s an emotional attachment which is more than love as it is.
This is called Stockholm syndrome.
Stockholm syndrome affects hostages, who have been held hostage for a period of time, usually a long time.
Victims of domestic violence are hostages through love. They agreed to marry the abuser, there’s excitement, joy, dreams of building a home with white picket fence. Children running around.
A dream to build a happy family together.
The love that landed them in the hands of their abusers, is the very same love that will give them a false sense of loving their abuser.
Throughout the years of abuse, the victims will question that love over and over again.
There’s constant confusion, about this initial love. As they remember this love, and recall how they fell in love with their abusers, how special they were to their abusers, they slipped into a psychological state of wishing for those beautiful days and moments to return.
Through this process, their minds actively bringing up these good memories of the start of the relationship.
The memories of the love, affection, compassion, sweetness and caring their abuser showed them becomes a living memory, to hold on, it becomes a treasure unconsciously. Giving a false belief, they still love their abuser.
At times when they’re abused, that love is out of their minds altogether, they just want the abuser to stop the beating. They wished someone will just burst in the door at that moment and rescue them.
There’s only burning hate and resentment at the moment of abuse, “there’s no love”
It’s at the moments when they contemplate getting away, that brings up the good sweet memories, the brain will recall these sweet memories to give comfort, to the victims.
The brain has recognized the pattern of confusion, anguish and deep resentment with contemplation of escaping eases with the past sweet memories. The brain then call these memories to action to comfort the abused at these difficult moments.
It’s this pattern of behavior between the abused and the brain that will eventually give the abused a false belief they love the abuser.
The moment of courage
There’s however a moment when the castle will finally come down and the reality, the truth exposed.
When this moment arrived, people from the outside, look on with disbelief, we start asking, the “big question”
Why didn't she leave? Why did she continue to stay?
It’s always easy for us to judge because the world we live in is unlike the world these women and their children lived in?
The moment of courage is from the soul, it’s from a place deep down their being. Years of abuse has reached its boiling point, this has awakened their souls with a power that overpower the mind, forcing it to change its tune to meet the demands of the soul.
There’s a point when something suddenly snapped, trickling a deep wave of courage, fuel by anger, and deep resentment.
It could be tricker by something on the TV, a scary behavior of a child who shows signs of deep psychological damage.
It could also be an ocean of other things in the relationship that has happened, like verbal abuse, where disrespect is at its peak, the abused is being little, and is called with all humiliating words.
This search in anger comes after days of the abused recalling these memories of humiliation, as they constantly focus on this, the mind start to shift its focus to the new tune.
Whenever the abuser recall these humiliating memories the mind recall the feelings that comes with it, intensifying the abused resentment towards the abuser, strengthening their determination to escape.
The mind will now feed them with solution and positive outcomes to help them continue on the direction of getting away.
The mind will feed them with courage to help the soul, as the soul continues to inject the courage and strength in them to work towards an escape plan.
When the anxiety and the will to get away intensify, it reaches the gut of their souls, it’s a deep reach and there’s no turning back. Even self-defense in any cost becomes as easy as a gentle breeze.
The mind becomes locked in the idea of getting away at any cost. There’s fear of getting caught, but it won’t be strong enough to resist the determination to escape, it won’t affect plans in place for the escape.
When this stage takes over, the mind becomes alert and constantly thinking, of ways to get the plan moving, risks are no longer threaten with fear, but guided with inner power and confidence everything will work as planned.
The fear of getting caught no longer exist, there’s a determination to fight back even if that means death in the hands of the abuser.
The first step towards fulfilling the getaway plan will now become a reality, whether it’s starting to put away money, sneaking to the neighbors for help, or finally call the cops.
It’s a long difficult process, with heartache, tears, pain, fear and wish for death as a final solution.
We on the other side, need to learn to ask different questions.
What punishment is there in the justice system for these abusers?
Are there free counselling and therapy available to women and children victims of domestic violence?
What is the government going to do, to prevent these unacceptable violence in homes?
Is there compensation for the victims, from their abusers?
Do women, men, and children living in abusive relationships and abusive environments matters?
Victims of domestic violence have been held against their will, they are hostages of love on the sharp edge of a sword.
Love is a double edge sword!
It’s sometimes, a beautiful red poisonous apple.
copyright-@Bree
By the time these women make it away from their abusers, the hole left inside their souls of emotional and physiological damage is only one’s hope it can be rescued and repaired.
When you asked these women the question, why did they stay on? Why did they not find help? Why did they not ring the police?
Their answer is simply “because I love him”
Stay because of love
The real truth has nothing to do with love. Throughout their lives under the same roof with their abusers, these women are totally under the control of violence.
There is no time to feel any love for anyone, including their abusers, there’s only fear around the clock, constantly wondering what’s next, constantly watching out for their words when they speak, their actions, even the way they sit.
So, why they claim love as the reason they stayed on?
It’s simple, they are confused and lost in the chaos of a long struggle.
They have no better explanation. They are exhausted.
Being free doesn’t fix things instantly, it doesn’t heal the damage done, it doesn’t undo years of abuse.
It’s an emotional attachment which is more than love as it is.
This is called Stockholm syndrome.
Stockholm syndrome affects hostages, who have been held hostage for a period of time, usually a long time.
Victims of domestic violence are hostages through love. They agreed to marry the abuser, there’s excitement, joy, dreams of building a home with white picket fence. Children running around.
A dream to build a happy family together.
The love that landed them in the hands of their abusers, is the very same love that will give them a false sense of loving their abuser.
Throughout the years of abuse, the victims will question that love over and over again.
There’s constant confusion, about this initial love. As they remember this love, and recall how they fell in love with their abusers, how special they were to their abusers, they slipped into a psychological state of wishing for those beautiful days and moments to return.
Through this process, their minds actively bringing up these good memories of the start of the relationship.
The memories of the love, affection, compassion, sweetness and caring their abuser showed them becomes a living memory, to hold on, it becomes a treasure unconsciously. Giving a false belief, they still love their abuser.
At times when they’re abused, that love is out of their minds altogether, they just want the abuser to stop the beating. They wished someone will just burst in the door at that moment and rescue them.
There’s only burning hate and resentment at the moment of abuse, “there’s no love”
It’s at the moments when they contemplate getting away, that brings up the good sweet memories, the brain will recall these sweet memories to give comfort, to the victims.
The brain has recognized the pattern of confusion, anguish and deep resentment with contemplation of escaping eases with the past sweet memories. The brain then call these memories to action to comfort the abused at these difficult moments.
It’s this pattern of behavior between the abused and the brain that will eventually give the abused a false belief they love the abuser.
THE MOMENT OF COURAGE
There’s however a moment when the castle will finally come down and the reality, the truth exposed.
When this moment arrived, people from the outside, look on with disbelief, we start asking, the “big question”
Why she didn’t leave? Why did she continue to stay?
It’s always easy for us to judge because the world we live in is unlike the world these women and their children lived in?
The moment of courage is from the soul, it’s from a place deep down their being. Years of abuse has reached its boiling point, this has awakened their souls with a power that overpower the mind, forcing it to change its tune to meet the demands of the soul.
There’s a point when something suddenly snapped, trickling a deep wave of courage, fuel by anger, and deep resentment.
It could be tricker by something on the TV, a scary behavior of a child who shows signs of deep psychological damage.
It could also be an ocean of other things in the relationship that has happened, like verbal abuse, where disrespect is at its peak, the abused is being little, and is called with all humiliating words.
This search in anger comes after days of the abused recalling these memories of humiliation, as they constantly focus on this, the mind start to shift its focus to the new tune.
Whenever the abuser recall these humiliating memories the mind recall the feelings that comes with it, intensifying the abused resentment towards the abuser, strengthening their determination to escape.
The mind will now feed them with solution and positive outcomes to help them continue on the direction of getting away.
The mind will feed them with courage to help the soul, as the soul continues to inject the courage and strength in them to work towards an escape plan.
When the anxiety and the will to get away intensify, it reaches the gut of their souls, it’s a deep reach and there’s no turning back. Even self defense in any cost becomes as easy as a gentle breeze.
The mind becomes locked in the idea of getting away at any cost. There’s fear of been caught, but it won’t be strong enough to resist the determination to escape, it won’t affect plans in place for the escape.
When this stage takes over, the mind becomes alert and constantly thinking, of ways to get the plan moving, risks are no longer threaten with fear, but guided with inner power and confidence everything will work as planned.
The fear of getting caught no longer exist, there’s a determination to fight back even if that means death in the hands of the abuser.
The first step towards fulfilling the get away plan will now becomes a reality, whether it’s starting to put away money, sneaking to the neighbours for help, or finally call the cops.
It’s a long difficult process, with heartache, tears, pain, fear and wish for death as a final solution.
We on the other side, need to learn to ask a different questions .
what punishment is there in the justice system for these abusers?
Are there free counselling and therapy available to women and children victims of domestic violence?
What is the government going to do, to prevent these unacceptable violence in homes?
Is there compensation for the victims, from their abusers?
Do women, men and children living in abusive relationships and abusive environments matters?
Victims of domestic violence are held against their will, they are hostages of love on the sharp edge of a sword.
Love is a double edge sword!
It’s sometimes, a beautiful red poisonous apple.
parents love-the sad generation.
I’m from the sad generation, parent by a sad generation who grew up in a sad generation.
When I grew up and became a parent. I started to parent the same cycle of the sad generation, but I paid attention to my human emotions and my mother emotions.
Crying to sleep, regretting yelling at the kids, only to do it again the next day. It was the beginning of a new cycle, a new kind of generation. A sad crying, confused generation.
My love for my children broke the chains of the cycle. I was free, the chains that were holding me hostage to a custom and culture enforced in my heart, were finally cut loose off me.
I built a home, unique and free of any influence from society. I didn’t mind being the weird one, but I very much mind being a follower of other hearts instead of my heart.
I chose love over violence. Chose peace over chaos, I chose a complete family over a broken one. I decided motherhood with love over motherhood with drugs and child abuse.
No one taught me how to be a mother with love, but everyone criticized me for being a mother they considered wrong.
I was never ashamed of my ways. And I never cared less for others and what they’re saying.
Nevertheless, I broke the cycle. I freed my children and freed myself from the barbaric ways of the sad generation.
I don’t have the right to tell anyone what’s right. But I do have the right to decide what, I believe, is right.
Just as I believed, violence and abuse is not love, and it’s wrong.
I was born in a sad cruel generation only to build a new generation of parents who decide patience and love over, power over a child, choose real love over the fake, face love , that beats and humiliates.
Choose civilized parenting over barbaric, violent parenting.
Love is powerful, it’s a weapon that can build bridges or burn down a town.
written by Bree - with copyright
@Bree