Why don’t women tell? Because no one listens; because you get blamed; because almost all of us have been there; because people in power think they have the right; because when you tell people they don’t want to face their own truth.
My book, Meeting Myself, Snippets from a binging and bulging mind addresses what happened to me and the aftermath effects in my life. Here are a few lines from the first chapter.
I didn’t know I wasn’t me. How could I? As long as I could remember, I’d never been anyone else. That’s what abuse did to me. Parts of me lay buried so deep that at first glance they seemed not to be there at all.
Feelings? I don’t have any. My life happens in the third person while I watch from afar. Experience teaches me that my feelings aren’t safe. They repeatedly get me into trouble. Self-preservation stands between me and them. For safety’s sake, they are sectioned off and twisted into plaits tighter than a seven-year-old child’s pigtails. I want it to stay that way.
The latest news on this topic affects me all over again. This heinous crime harasses for a moment of time and then lingers forever.
But for the grace of God, we would all disintegrate.
For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— not by works, so that no one can boast. (Ephesians 2:8-9, NIV)
And he said unto me, my grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. (2 Corinthians 12:9, KJV)
Prayer- Whatever our past trauma, Lord, keep us in your steadfast grace. Amen.
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