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Posts Tagged ‘panic’

Domestic violence, noun

“violent or aggressive behavior within the home, typically involving the violent abuse of a spouse or partner” ~ Oxford Dictionary love, forgiveness, hope

Until you are there, until you are the one who is lying on the floor being beaten, being kicked, being degraded. Until you are the one who sits while tears flow down his cheeks as he begs for your forgiveness and explains how sorry he is, how much pain he is in and how it will never happen again. Until you are the one who truly believes that you can help, that you can heal this person if you just knew how. Until you have walked in those shoes, be careful not to judge us, be careful not to criticise us.

Rather ~ give love, allow forgiveness and offer hope.

So often you hear of people who are in relationships where domestic violence occurs, this can be physical, mental, emotional or simply neglect and so often you hear people say, why doesn’t he/she leave? Why do they put up with it? I agree, on the face of it, it doesn’t make sense, there’s nothing logical about allowing someone to hit you, swear at you, demean you but yet, so many of us do. You see, it’s just not that simple.

The healthy man does not torture others. Generally it is the tortured who turn into torturers. – Carl Jung

I have been beaten, I have been neglected and I have been mentally and emotionally abused and I stayed. I would describe myself as a strong, intelligent independent women. I know right from wrong, I understand what self-respect is and I know that no-one has the right to harm me, no-one has the right to abuse me, be it physical or mental, but again, I stayed. At the time I believed the stories, I believed that I had provoked the situation, it was my fault. I was strong and independent, I was intelligent and knew my own mind, somehow I made him feel small and insignificant and this was his way of dealing with it. I can’t honestly tell you how many times it happened, it wasn’t more than a handful and I remember always being clear that I needed to make sure he never hit my face (or at least I thought it was me making sure), that way “we” could deal with it in private, “we” could work through it together, no-one would understand – or so I thought. I believed that he was “tortured” and that was why he behaved the way he did. I believed that I could make him “healthy” and in doing so, I could stop the abuse, I could make him a better man. Well, I didn’t’ and in reality, I couldn’t.

I wish I could say I made the decision, I walked away, I was strong enough to say no, but even though I believe I would have reached that point at some stage – it wasn’t how it ended. I had suspected there was someone else, I had a sense that he was cheating on me, but I could never be sure. This carried on for a while and then one evening we all went out, he was drinking, he was drinking Rum & Coke, a drink I now associate with violence and aggression. When we got home, we got into an argument, it ended up with me on the floor and him kicking me, over and over again. At some point it stopped.

The following morning, I had a call from a close friend, she wanted to talk, I knew then that he had been cheating and that it was with my friend. I made the decision to tell her what he had done, I wore clothing so that she could see the angry bruises forming on my body, so that she could see what he had done. She told me she loved him, she told me it was just our relationship. I warned her, but she, like me, felt it would be different for them – she could make him “healthy”. It wasn’t different, it was the same. He beat her as he had beaten me and she married him, she knew and she stayed. It didn’t’ last but I don’t know how it ended, I can only hope that she has found her value, understood her worth and realised her importance.

So yes, he may have been a “tortured” man, he may have had his own demons that led him to be the abusive human being he was, but he had no right to do what he did to me or anyone of the other women in his life, regardless of his pain or unhappiness. And I was wrong to believe I could help him, make him “healthy” or make him “happy”. Regardless of how much a man or woman is tortured, they have no right to torture another.

Life can only be understood backward, but it must be lived forward.  ~ Soren Kierkegaard

I have come to understand that I expected relationships to be bad and so I “chose” to have someone in my life that would affirm that for me, I did this twice and then I gave up. I decided I would rather be alone than be disappointed or be right about how I believed all of my relationships would end up. This wasn’t because I hated myself or because I was weak or unable to believe that I deserved more. It was simply because I didn’t know any better at the time. I think that this is very common in all relationships,often friends and lovers are chosen to meet a need, to fill a void we feel – somehow to make us whole.

But every now and then the universe doesn’t grant our wish and someone comes into our life who doesn’t fit the mould, who is willing to take a risk and share their honesty, who doesn’t tell us what “we want to hear”, someone who will share their love – someone who will stay no matter how much you push them away.  I have been in my current relationship for 17+ years, we have had highs and lows like any other healthy relationship. Over the years and as time goes on we learn more about each other and we work at making our relationship even “healthier” and happier. I believe there is no perfect formula, it is simply trial and error.

What I have learnt: I do know better. I know that a relationship is based on mutual respect, it is based on friendship and acceptance, it is based on love and support, it is based on compromise and negotiation, it requires communication and commitment and it requires a lot of looking after from both sides. I have learnt that no-one has the right to cause me harm, be it physical or mental and I have learnt to trust more deeply, hope more openly and love more freely. But most importantly, I have learnt that I have a voice and I have choice.

Footnote: Making the decision to write and share this post did not come easily. I have two daughters who I am trying to raise into two strong, stable, happy human beings. Every time I share my experiences I stand back and measure the impact that they may or may not have on my daughters. I am proud of the woman I have become, my past has moulded me but it does not define me, it has guided me but it no longer controls me. I believe these are lessons worth sharing with my daughters.

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Nothing is perfect

Nothing is perfect, except maybe the stars and snowflakes
And only God may point a finger
You have no right to open my wounds
So go now, please don’t linger
I refuse the guilt you want me to feel
I refuse the hatred you send my way
I refuse the contempt and lack of compassion
I refuse your pity each and every day
The way you behave, breaks my heart
The foolish things you say and do
Look in the mirror, when you judge so harshly
The person looking back, surely can’t be you
I feel as though in a dreamlike trance
In waking, will I be rid of the pain?
I love you more than the sun and the moon
Please bring back the sun, please shut out the rain
I am the walking wounded
I am the broken loser
I’m alive, but really dead
A foolish self abuser

By Barbara Thompson

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Be at peace
Be still
Be one with the world
Be one with your fellow man
Love overwhelmingly
Love everything
Forgive instantly
Let go, Let God
Don’t question nature
Embrace it
Celebrate life
Set your soul on fire
Find fulfilment
Find joy, find happiness
Find the wonder that is you
Protect the weak
Guide the lost
Love the lonely
Be at peace
Be still

By Barbara Thompson

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If making love is the small death
then I now believe the betrayal
by ones emotions is the big one
To find out someone you have adored
for years has feet of clay
To perceive them in what must be the reality like the shattering of glass
To watch someone who always
seemed larger than life
shrink before your eyes, to regress
to crass emotions and endeavours
This is the the ultimate betrayal
This is that loss of love

There is nothing new under the sun
Life is a dress rehearsal
Dream your dream, it can be done
It’s all there for your perusal
One night, the stars dress up for you
Next day a tempest rages
and there’s nothing you can say or do
To turn, torn and dirty pages
This, to shall pass, wise men say
There’s no pain that you can’t bear
It looks, like life is just a cliche
The cloth you cut, is what you’ll wear
Why was I for, what am I living
Cries the heart thats badly broken
What happened to the world forgiving
Has my life been just a forgotten token

I remember so clearly the day I was
Abused
I remember the man, dark hair, moustache
Brown shirt, yellow tie and shiny knife
Seven other children watched in shock
No-one tried to move, scream or help
I remember the police and they scared
Me as much as the man
I remember being seven and I remember
The feeling of being absolutely and totally alone
There were no conversations about it
No-one explained, there was no help
I had nightmares for years
Only in the last years have I
Managed to confront it – The reaction
Was the same, so what, who cares
And I remember, the fear and the
Old guilt that somehow it was my
Own fault
Do we ever get rid of the old shadows
in our lives?
Are we allowed to dine in peace?
The books and and Know-it-alls say yes
But is it really true?

By Barbara Thompson

Footnote: This is the most I have ever heard about the abuse my mother endured, she never spoke of it. I knew something had happened when she was a young girl, but I never knew her age, I never truly knew her pain.  

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When God made me

When God made me he must have laughed
Him, and the angels too
He made me short and rather plain
not lamb, but mutton stew
But he gave me brains and intellect
and a strange bouquet of talent
Blonde hair, blue eyes an upturned nose
and a temper, sometimes violent
He put me on a rocky road, swirling in a storm
but he gave me love and hope and joy
that today still keeps me warm
I realise now, that this small life
has really been a test
to find my faults, my fears, the ways
that I can do my best
So don’t despair, take heed of me
and put your soul to rest
I’m living proof, that when he laughed, he laughed at me, and got it off His chest

By Barbara Thompson

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Some people flash through our lives
Like a gleaming comet
A glorious presence
The most beautiful sonnet
They walk in grace
And their song is glory
The perfect end to every story
To know them,
Brings us joy and laughter
They’re sealed in our hearts
Forever after
And do I hear you,
Ute, asking who?
It’s you, my dear friend
Yes, it’s you

By Barbara Thompson

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Alcohol, noun

“a colorless volatile flammable liquid that is the intoxicating constituent of wine, beer, spirits, and other drinks, and is also used as an industrial solvent and as fuel.” – Oxford Dictionary

I had to laugh when I saw the Oxford Dictionary’s definition – doesn’t it make it sound endlessly appealing to sit down with that lovely cabernet or cold beer….

I am not a “big” drinker but neither am I a teetotaller, I would probably have a couple of glasses of wine a month on average so I cannot be defined as a party animal. My experience with alcoholism in my family has clearly defined how I interact with alcohol and the uneasy relationship that I have with it.

When I was in my late teens and early twenties I was a little less controlled, I, like most of my peers, would go out, have too much to drink and feel disastrous the next day. I have great memories of fantastic friends and frivolous parties and I have memories which went on to put in the “well, I won’t be doing that again” basket but memories none the less. Alcohol is a significant part of social interaction in our society, I see this as neither good nor bad, it simply is.

I have found over the years is that how I react and interact with alcohol is dependent on how I am feeling emotionally/mentally. There are times when I can have a couple of glasses of wine and all is well, no nasty reactions, no palpitations, no regret – just a social evening with some friends like “normal” people do. Then there are other times where I have the same number of said beverage and all hell breaks loose – in my head at least, to everyone around me there would be no change, no shift in demeanour, no sense of the impending chaos that my anxiety was about to unleash on me. On one occasion, we had been out with a couple of friends, had a couple of glasses of wine, as I said, a “normal” social family evening. On the way home my daughter casually mentioned that she could smell alcohol (this would later be my trigger).

When we got home the regular routine followed and we all hopped into bed and went to sleep – I then woke up or to be more precise, my anxiety decided that a bright, beautiful quivering panic attack was the way to rip me out of my slumber and so I got up and went to the computer (my therapist had suggested I write) and started to frantically type away with the result being a litany of manic, emotional guilt, shame and regret.

This particular event had been a birthday celebration for me, I look back at it now and feel it was a wasted opportunity to experience and savour a joyful evening simply because my anxiety was so domineering that I didn’t let it give me the space to let me be. This was not the first or the last time that depression/anxiety/panic have limited my ability to experience joy and “seize the day” (more on that to follow). At the time I was still on medication and I had just entered therapy, my head was not in a good space but this was the first time I had ever written down the chaotic thoughts that raced through my head. Even now, over a year later, when I look at what I wrote I find it confronting to know that I was in such a bad space back then, but I also find it comforting to see how far I have come and how much I have to go, no longer feels like an eternity.

I will never be a “big” drinker, I choose not to simply because I don’t like the way it makes my body feel. I try and stay healthy and fit as I believe this is the best path for me to stay mentally healthy. I also know that preconditioning will always influence my perception and interpretation and as such I don’t believe that any two people experience alcohol in the same way.

 What I have learnt: I hope to guide my children to develop healthy views on all aspects of their lives and in my journey in doing this, I hope not to demonise anything but rather educate as much as possible about everything so as to provide them with the tools to make choices and decisions that best serve them.

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