Death (Trigger Warning)

I was about to start the latest Episode of Burn Notice while blogging, something I do rather often with the TV. It makes great background chatter and sometimes helps me to think. I was going to write about dealing with domestic violence, because I am tired of the way CNN, MSNBC and the other media outlet stores for “news” are demonizing Rhianna for her choice to stay with her abuser, ignoring the fact that millions of other women in this world do the same thing.

My mother called and asked me to see to it that my Person was awake. I asked her to call back, climbed out of bed, got dressed and then woke him. When we reconnected she did try to ease me into it. My biological father is dead. The man who violated my right to be alive, who raped me, and shamed me for being a woman is dead. Not only is he dead but he suffered. My immediate response was to start laughing.

I am happy to not feel fear. He has found me in my adult life repeatedly. He is the reason I made sure to change my name, that way no surprises could come such as a knock on my door and a punch to my face. It has happened before. I am also triggered. Immediately my brain sought to try and understand the reactions taking place as I began to cry, not for him, but for myself.

There is no funeral, because his Widow is aware that no one would come, except to dessecrate the body. I dreamed for years of spitting on his grave, and eventually if I feel the need, I will visit his grave but it will not be out of sorrow. Thousands of survivors of abuse feel the same fears.

When will my abuser come to me? When will he or she find me and will I live through it this time? Will I survive another beating?

Victims also feel these things, usually knowing they cannot escape. That is why Rhianna’s return to Chris Brown saddens me. It does not surprise me. I hope that she finds a way out. I pray for this daily. I also pray that the shelters for women locally remain. The threats to their existance due to the recession are the worst thing possible.

How can we devalue women and children by taking away their one chance at survival? Usually it takes a trauma so great it nearly costs you your life before you wake up and walk away. These shelters are responsible for my knowing how to not find an Abuser.

My father is also responsible for my ability to appear utterly calm while wanting to kill. At times I do feel homicidal, he taught me that violence is the best answer. I will spend my life facing the specter of his abuse. Part of me is pitying his widow. I pity her because she is mourning him, and I am aware that he abused her before he became too ill to do it.

I mentioned he suffered right? He spent a year in Hospice care slowly dying, his body in horrible pain, and often being neglected. I never thought he would be sick like that, I always hoped for some sort of God type vengeance and it came. He suffered, but his suffering hurt others.

I have cried, but no tears fall for him.
I have died, and been reborn.
He has died, and freedom comes again.
I will fly.
No hawks in my sky.
Clouds pass me by.
I am free.

This poem is dedicated to every survivor. I am sorry if my post is a little more rambly today. I know my life is unchanged by his death. The last time he found me, I was barely able to walk, in pain, and at my weakest. Instead of hounding me, he was suddenly cowering in fear before me. It might have been the really big stick I was using to drag my carcass along at that time. It might have been my letting him corner me, before threatening him with bodily harm, and backing up my threat. That was likely it.

I used my words to tell him just how many ways I could hurt him. He taught me all of those ways, except for those I learned in a Martial Arts class. That’s one of the things I rarely advertise, I have taken martial arts. I know how to hurt people, and how to defend them too. He gave me that.

I know too I am more upset than I can currently acknowledge. My cat woke me up with a back massage and a meow. She’s got her voice back at last and is perfectly well. She is also staying right close to me. So close she is actually sitting on my head as I lay here typing this out. I am also feeling the forewarnings of flashbacks. I can fight them, but, it figures even from beyond the grave he exists. He scarred me. Nothing changes. I just have one less reason to fear.

It is okay to mourn. I just wish I knew how.

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