Selaen
People see me as assertive, strong, quite scary. I’m very good at my job. I’m bloody awesome at shouting orders and giving abuse back to customers. I can give back as good as I get, and nothing will scratch the surface. Yeah?
How on Earth I ended up here, I don’t know. I can take care of myself. I’m strong and I’m independent. I don’t need anyone. So I thought.
“My mother said that it’s a complete waste of police time.” Your mother is thick.
“It’s not like you were ever in danger.” Yup. Never.
“You pissed me off so much.” I’m sorry.
“You beat me up, see this bruise here? That’s you biting me.” I’m so sorry.
“You got me in trouble with the police.” I’m so, so sorry. Forgive me, yeah?
It’s a massive burden, carrying around this story that nobody knows. She doesn’t remember because she was drunk. The neighbours are long gone after I moved out. Her current partner doesn’t know because she’s told her that I abused her. I cannot tell the story because I’m strong. Fuck it. I’ll be weak for you.
I was in love. I was young, and I was in love. We had a flat together and all that mattered was that we were together. The world was our oyster, and nothing would hurt us. We had discussions about everything and anything. We seemed compatible.
If you got pregnant, would you keep it? No. I couldn’t afford it, I can’t even take care of myself, I couldn’t do it. So what, you’d kill your baby? No. It’s not a baby. But yeah, I couldn’t do it.
I never used to be scared of heights. Being trapped in a balcony on the sixth floor, being pushed against the railing with a drunken person shouting at your face will do that to you. I will always live on or below the ground floor.
We were happy. We had arguments, but we had a future. I was in love. She cheated on me, but I forgave her. Because I was in love. But I became jealous. And possessive. Because I just wasn’t good enough. She’d go away and I would be alone….
Did you ever play the scene from The Shining all over and over again because it was funny? You know the one, the bathroom one. “Heeeeeeere’s Johnny!” Yeah, not so funny when you’re living it. With you naked in the bathroom, screaming your lungs out, this person you love. No, this body of the person you love with a mind of a madman, breaking in. They want you, but not in a good way. Alcohol is a saviour you know, because there’s that point when they pass out and you can speak to the police. But see, everything’s fine. The neighbours two floors above you were just being silly because you had a quite a loud fight. It’s fine. It’s fine. Really, it’s fine.
I think I was still in love. But I no longer wanted her. I’d been cheated on so many times, and I couldn’t help but think that she shouldn’t get drunk. We were young, but after two years, how can you leave? It’s such a long time. It’s a lifetime.
“My mother said that you wasted police time because you were being stupid.” That’s what she basically said. When I phoned 999 from the corridor where I stood in my underwear, I was stupid. My throat was all sore from where her once-loving hands had been. My neck was sore from when my head whipped back as she was banging my head against a wall. My back was hurting because she threw me down a few steps, against a concrete wall. I was alone and scared. But I did grab my phone. I did I did I did. Thank you, God.
Yes, I was stupid. I was stupid because I still loved her. Because I still wanted to be with her, because she still meant so much to me. I was stupid because if she hadn’t hated herself for what she did, we would’ve stayed together and I probably wouldn’t be here.
My tailbone never healed in the proper position.
My back still hurts when I sit for any longer than two hours straight.
I cannot tell anyone about my past.
My mother will never know how close she was to losing her first-born.
I’m still alive, if this is what you’d call living. When will it end?
***
Selaen blogs at Out of the Ordinary.
26 Responses to “Selaen”
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Once again, I am moved to tears by this survivor story! My heart goes out to her. My prayers go up for her. My spirit sends strength to her! Thank you for the courage to share!
Thank you for sharing your heartbreaking story.
I’m so sorry…I wish I could think of something brilliant and eloquent to say; hopefully ‘I’m sorry’ shows the support I feel in some small way. Love & Light to you.
“How on Earth I ended up here, I don’t know.” … you are not alone in wondering this. But it’s how you move forward that is the most important part.
Thank-you for sharing…I know how hard it is and I hope you found what you needed in doing so.
I know it’s hard to tell your story, to have a post here, as I’ve been there.
I applaud your courage.
It takes courage to tell your story, and the telling is a start to the healing. The next three days or so should be intensely emotional as you re-process this, but you will find that you have unpeeled another layer of your pain. Each time you revisit it, you shed more of the burden.
I wish you healing and peace.
Don’t believe for a second that telling your story makes you weak. If anything, the opposite is true. Ask any of the ones who have bared their souls here how much strength it takes.
Ask yourself how hard it was for you to come forward.
And at some point, you’ll be able to ask another young woman who saw herself in your words and because of it was able to save herself from a similar fate just how much strength she took from your story.
Weak? I think not. Not even a little bit.
The thesis behind Violence UnSilenced is in the title. By breaking the silence, by letting the “dirty little secret” out of the closet, you take another step toward taking away the power of the abuser. Of all of the abusers. Their power lies in the silence. In the fear. The fear of what will happen if you dare to speak. And by speaking, you challenge that power — or more accurately, the illusion of power.
By speaking out, you take the power back. You count yourself among the ones who refuse to be victimized, among those who have survived. Is surviving the same as living? No, it isn’t. But it’s certainly a prerequisite to living. Because you can’t very well live if you don’t survive.
You shouldn’t have had to endure this; nobody should. But because you did, because you lived to tell about it you’ve taken your life back. And you’ve given life back to others mired in the same abyss. Because you’re not alone, not “different” or “strange” or “a freak”. And you’re certainly not “weak”.
Ask anybody.
For all those who still suffer and have yet to find their voices, I thank you for having the courage, the strength, to find yours.
Thank you for sharing the story. So many people who write hear talk about how strong they appear on the outside. My hope for you and everyone else who has told their story here is that you find that same kind of inner strength one day and that you can see yourself as others see you! You deserve better and I hope you find it!
When will it end?
That’s a good question. I think you’ve taken the first step toward the answer.
For me, it ends the day that I can talk about it without being emotionally wrecked by my own retelling.
It gets easier each time you repeat it, or each time someone who reads your words encourages you on. It doesn’t seem to matter if it was 30 minutes ago or 30 years ago when the physical abuse stopped. The emotional implications can be just as great. That’s why it’s important to face it head-on and STARE IT DOWN.
You’ve done that, brave soul. Soldier on. May peace and happiness find you.
Your words are powerful, not weak. Thanks for sharing this.
There is always “I’m sorry” at the end of the violence. Yet, somehow they are never quite sorry enough NOT to do it again, if anything they get worse.
Calling the cops was the right thing to do and no one has to understand te reasoning or the why’s…all that matters is you didn’t deserve to be treated that way, nothing excuses that behavior.
Never weak…it takes tremendous courage and strength to tell the story. Even more admitting to the world…Yes, I was one of those women, this happened to me. Thank you for sharing dear friend! (Hugs)Indigo
Congratulations on getting out, getting help, and being strong enough to do both. You are admirable.
Thank you for being STRONG and sharing your story with us. It is through others like you who share their own personal stories that we can have the courage to share ours.
Salaen, thank you for sharing your story. It is strength to share it, not weakness.
I’m so sorry that this happened to you. Thank you for sharing your story.
Sharing does not mean you are weak.. it means you are strong.
Thank you for speaking out.
Thank you for having the courage to share your story.
Your “weakness” in telling your story – that’s the strength in you. Anyone, no matter how weak, can project strength. But opening up like this? That’s true strength.
I don’t have the words to make it better, none of us do. All I can do is thank you for adding your voice to all the others. Each one of us whispering our story here brings the volume up just a little – breaking the damn silence that we’ve all lived with for too long.
so not weak.
I agree with Mojo – it isn’t weak to speak out and tell your story – it takes a lot of guts. Thank you for telling your story – it just might help some one else break free, and in my opinion, having the courage to speak out makes you that much stronger.
it is not stupid to love, I am glad you loved yourself. You are still here!
thank you for speaking up.
Selaen, Thank you for sharing your story. It takes strength to tell the world that you were a victim. You are, indeed, a survivor. I pray that you find peace.
You are so brave to share your story with all of us. Having been a survivor of abuse myself, I commend you on telling the world what happened to you and helping others by doing just that. It’s such a difficult step to do so.
It seems to me that it’s pretty hard to know someone before you live with them. And how could you possibly know that kind of stuff was going to be coming at you, before you trusted this person; let them into your life. I hope you are OK! That life is looking better everyday.
Eaton
Thank you for sharing your story – it was incredibly brave and strong