Tuesday, August 6, 2019

If My Wounds Were Visible

Being a victim of narcissistic abuse tends to go unnoticed because the wounds aren’t usually visible, they are hidden deep within the victims. We don’t speak up because who would believe us when you can’t see our wounds. Not only that, but the mind fuck of shame and guilt that we develop can be deadly. 

If my wounds were visible, this is what you would see:

The bottoms of my feet are scarred and have opened wounds from the shards of eggshells I’ve been walking on for the last 17 years. Just when I thought they have callused over, the sharp edges of eggshells slice them right back open.
My knees are black and blue from the many times I begged him to change and even though I knew he wouldn’t change, I prayed and prayed and prayed for God to change his heart, but his own free will is in the way.

The opening of my vagina is torn and bleeding from the many times he pushed his way past my sexual boundaries. I told him that I wanted to wait for marriage before losing my virginity, but alas he pushed his way through that when I was 18, laying on the floor of my bedroom in our apartment. It wasn’t good, it wasn’t special, it meant nothing, I meant nothing. He continued to push past my boundaries, wanting different things in the bedroom, degrading things, and if I didn’t oblige he shamed me for not being as “freaky” as him. As if that was a goal of mine. So I would lay there, sometimes closing my eyes wishing it was someone else, or I would take myself to a place anywhere but there. But then, the groping, terrible and dirty groping. It creeps me the fuck out. He thinks it’s arousing to make me cringe. I’ve yelled and told him to stop, it took a while, but he finally stopped. I couldn’t handle it. 

My stomach has bruises from the many times he would grab my rolls and claim they belonged to him. But they weren’t, they were mine. They were mine from bearing his children and eating my feelings. I turned to food every time I felt alone and unloved, and damn it did I feel that way a lot. 
My ribs are broken and my lungs have collapsed. It can be so hard to breathe and I feel like I’m suffocating in my own home. I just want to take a deep breath and take in the sunshine and fresh air, but he takes it all away by his presence.

My arms and clavicles are broken from all of the weight that I’ve carried on my shoulders. The muscles in my neck and shoulders have tried to compensate for my arms and clavicles and the intense pain I feel daily in my muscles is excruciating. They hurt so much that when someone lightly rubs my shoulders I’m in immediate pain from the tension in my muscles. 

My spine, that was once strong is weak now, and curved, and probably has some fractures. It’s a constant uncomfortable pain that’s annoying and if I sit or lay in a certain way, I finally find a temporary relief. I have to wear a C Collar because of all the whiplash I’ve endured from this roller coaster ride. I never know what each day will bring and the only way to protect myself is to wear this as I go up, down, back and forth, and the screeching halt from normalcy.

My ears continue to bleed from all of the lies, promises, grandiose stories, and bull shit I’ve heard come out of his mouth. At times I wish I could mute him because he doesn’t stop, he keeps going like the damn energizer bunny. 

My jaws are misaligned from the emotional beatings I’ve endured. It’s hard to smile at home, so my face is at a resting bitch face. When I’m with my tribe, my people, I smile. They are like chiropractors who realign my smile.

My eyes are bruised and swollen, I can barely see the light coming through. I don’t even recognize myself in the mirror, I am a shell of who I once was. 

I have skull fracture and brain bleeds from the mind fuck of a relationship I’ve been in. I’ve banged my head on the wall so many times because of the many “is this shit even real?” moments. The tension from my shoulders reaches to the back of my neck causing tension headaches and migraines. Nothing seems to help while he is home. At this point I’m practically snorting essential oils to get some sort of relief.

This is if all of my wounds were visible, but they are hidden deep in my heart and soul and I pray that I can get away so I can begin to heal, so my kids can see their mom strive and thrive instead of suffering. I’m a mother fucking warrior and I will get my life back without him having hold of me.