Since I have been away from my family, I have not missed them even for a single second. If there had been love, there had been grief.
If it was not for my friends, I would have been lost. I’d not have been able to even leave my family, or make it through the healing either.
Maybe I confused anger for bitterness. I assumed that being angry somehow made me trapped in the toxic environment.
The abuser’s echo are overwhelming, and can make you despair. On days when those echos are loud, the doubt may creep back in.
I was engaged in a war at home against myself, my family, the lies, the pain. I was fearful, angry, heartbroken, insecure, stressed, always on full alert…
Many people only associate PTSD with combat soldiers, and those who have dealt with domestic violence know what it is like to fight a constant war at home
I have talked about the less than discriminating nature of abuse. It happens anywhere in different settings. Another factor that is not considered: gender.
I once heard someone speak of the children of narcissists as Bonsai Children. We are put in a small pot, our growth is stunted, our potential seems lost.
I cannot even count the number of times people have said to me: You can’t just cut contact, they are your parents! Guess what? Yes, I can!
It is easier to accept that someone has been a target of abuse when they have bruises to show. It is not the bruises that hurt most, it is feeling unlovable