We are all at capacity and I have seen several posts of people unwinding and leaving 2020 already. We are a few more weeks to go, but everyone seems to have had enough. I almost left too, but I’m back here for the other bunch of sheep that are still taking it a step to the next. Still breathing and silently waiting.
The world today is heavy on mental wellness, toxicity, rape and a whole lot of similar vices. My only worry, rather greatest concern is that millions of women have their lives whirled into Category 5 Hurricane but are left behind in these discussions. Millions of victims who badly need to be part of these stories are absent in their own stories.
“There’s always the beginning Ess” She says handing me a card dated 14h February, 1993. I look at it and marvel at its beauty. There are a few words, neatly written in blue ink. Dear X, Keep my love No matter what.
‘Can you imagine living like this for the rest of your life? I’m scared. If this is the case, I wish to die first and fast. I’m so scared, yunnow. She continues.
Just a minute. If there’s was anything as clear as the blue skies I wrote in my primary school compositions, I swear upon my blood and muse, it is the fear. Her fear. The fear more than the pain of public insults and punches.
So how do you tell your tell a woman to quit? How do you tell a mother to leave her 5 children’s father after 30 years? Of what? Gagged mouth. Punches and bruises, Scars and wounds, broken ribs and…and things I don’t know.
‘You’re still a kid, there are some things that you would understand even if I told you.’
There’s a language you can’t speak to people in abusive relationships and marriages. This is the ‘You deserve better’ language. This is a language I’m still learning to be gentle with because of the victims mental/ headspaces.
I have (wo)men that are literally scared of marriage and their respective opposite gender. I remember overhearing a conversation on how hard it is to date people with ‘mummy’ or ‘daddy’ issues. It is easier to call them names, and no matter the pain and traumas we survive nobody really cares to acknowledge the damage.
To digress a bit, I see every day the expectations we put on men and women, fathers and mothers, daughters and sons that I’ve interacted with. After surviving 18/20/25+ years in broken families, abusive marriages etc. We expect them to bounce back and roll. Bounce back and have a normal life.
Is it ever really about the how long really? Isn’t it more about the things we saw when curtains closed and parties were over? About the many times your mother publicly humiliated your dad and he sobbed silently under a tree. About the many times your father slapped your mother, or hit her with the tea cup when she brought breakfast? The number of times they openly quarreled about that mistress he said was in all ways better than your mother?
We can go through 2020 all over again and tell people how extra and bitter they are becoming, but can your feet fit in those shoes? It might be years later, when we are all grown and independent of toxic and abusive environments but, but certain things you can’t unsee. Certain pains you can’t unfeel. Certain words and phrases you can’t unhear.
Gravity🍃, and Grace✨