A Little Thunder (Trigger warning)

I took my nap, got up, fiddled with my new watch and checked to see if it has broken yet. Gleeful that it has kept the time for six hours straight I tuck it in my pocket, and fiddle with it’s chain. I move to the living room, the crisp sound of wheels on carpet has become a herald of my journeying. The cats await and I greet them before devouring pizza and strawberries.

Then, the explosion occurs. Everything flashes though the flash is inside my mind. I cannot see my home for thirty seconds, but I am in a silent and still image except for the explosions that come after. I cannot tell if they are thunder or fireworks. I already know this is a harbinger of my next few days, but that the moment is still relieves me.

I try to call M, but he’s not availible. I want to make sure I am still real and that my happiness is not the illusion. It works well enough but I am still facing flickers. I may not sleep tonight. There are no more explosions. I check the weather, it says all is clear. I start to eat again. I can’t eat. The food looks like blood on my hands.

I close my eyes and seek answers on how to proceed inside of myself, i consider too the idea of tomorrow. I had planned to go out.I cut things too closely to my quick if I am now hallucenating fireworks. The smell of rain has been present for days, without a drop while I was awake. Just a sprinkling while I slept. The sky has been clear and even now I can see stars. I roll over to the door, and I look outside at the dry side walk, the starry night.

The stars vanish, washed away as the sky is cleansed by rain. It comes quickly, I still see no lightening but the thunder is explosive, crack. Crack. Boom. My soul is shaken again, but reality stays with me. Instead I can smell the differences, I can see them. The cool air on my flesh heralds in reality again.

I am saved by the rain. My fear has melted down to what is normal for today, my heart stopped trying to out run a horse, and I am left to see my cats staring at the rain. Nymph has never seen rain before and is afraid. Sprite shelters her, and looks to me to see if I need sheltering. I am free. I need no shelter but I welcome it. Two soft warm bundles to remind me that, I am free.

(My keywords for this post made a poem: PTSD, Flashback, recovery, pain, rain, cat, free, smell, sky, clean, free)

Hidden Abuse Take Two (Trigger Warning)

Abuse is something that is running rampant in our society. I think the “right” to abuse is not just reinforced in some religions, but it is reinforced in other ways. The media often shows women getting hit as punishment, or if male and females are both under assault, the woman gets hurt worse, and it is the man’s duty to avenge her. There are very few deviations from this formula. I am writing a deviation, at least I hope so, for my own novel. I realized that I am exploring what it is to be a survivor in my writing.

I am not going to give the plot away by much, but, there is an exploration of rape, incest, and the confrontation of an abuser in my story. That is a big portion of it’s core. This is a core part of what has made me who I am. I have confronted every abuser in my life, and although it is extremely painful and has ended badly in most circumstance, I was able to show them that I know what they are.

Through this exploration of what abuse is, and my constant thoughts and warnings I have come to see that the media lies. Abuse isn’t just when you are beaten bloody. That is the most obvious abuse. That is the abuse that comes in at the end of a very long escalation. Abuse starts small.

My first abusive boyfriend actually helped me find my name. At times I feel weird answering to Kat, because he was the first to call me that. The spelling and intention is different yet the association sometimes pops up. The abuse with him was the smallest. It started over food. I have huge food issues, and have had for most of my life. He would start out with our food order. I would order something meaty and he’d look at me and say, “That will make your cholesterol high. Don’t you want a salad?” If I refused to order the salad, at first he would just shrug, but then the comments started to escalate, “Well, if you want to be a fat pig for the rest of your life fine…”

I nearly died when I started to give in. I didn’t see this as abuse. It was not as bad as what I had dealt with before, so how could it be abuse? I didn’t understand. He then began to accuse me of things, little things that made no sense to me. “You are one of the Illuminati, You are the destroyer of worlds.” I thought he’d been reading way too many comic books. He hated them but read them to try and make me feel better about him, in some ways that worked at first.

This was one of my longest relationships, I was hiding my relationship from my family per his order. After all they would surely judge me for dating a person of a different ethnicity. Before you ask, no he was not black. I have been blessed to know only gentle men of color. No single ethnic group holds the buy out on violence. Most of my abusers are men of my own color, white.

I began to miss out on time with my friends. He then started pressuring me for sex. I had decided a long time ago I want to have sex with the man I marry. For some reason this was not the same in my mind with women, I could explore them but men were too dangerous and in my mind hated pleasure with promiscuous women. I was warned that if I did not have sex with him, the world would end.

The night we broke up he hit me. I do not remember much, I had a flash back to one of the worst beatings of my life. I also reacted, I don’t remember it but when I came back to reality I had been hitting him with a frying pan. My face hurt, and he snarled at me, “I am going to rape you, kill you, and then I will have your soul forever.” Those words haunt me. He meant them. He wanted to steal my soul, because in his eyes I had too much personal power.

I called 911, he was arrested, and some of the things I found out about him were frightening. He had lied about his name, he had lied about a lot of things. He was a known serial rapist, and had killed more than one person. He went to jail, and although he is out now my fear of him is very small. I doubt he will try to find me. If he does, I know how to protect myself, and I will call the police.

Looking back, I see many warning signs of abuse. I thought these were normal for social interactions however. Any time you are not allowed to share a relationship, it is a warning sign of abuse. If you are not able to meet their friends or family, that is another sign of abuse. It is a bit harder to feel that these are significant with internet dating, but they are in the majority of cases. If you must stop seeing your friends, it is a warning sign of abuse. If you say no, and he takes that as yes? Get out of there.

There are more signs to abuse, but my brain is trying to flash back now, so I need to stop writing this piece. Abuse is not as hidden as it thinks it is. As a survivor of abuse I have dealt with varying layers, finding each time my brain accepts it as normal, until I finally found my way out of the cycle of abuse. It takes years, it takes practice. If anything hurts you, even if it might not feel wrong it is abuse.

  • Polls

  • Ye Olde Archives of Fury

  • Top Rated

  • Top Clicks

    • None