Student of life, lifelong learner, mother, writer, artist, poet, dancer, musician, and martial artist ... passionate about all of these.
Thoughts locked away....
I hid in silence.
I hid in silence.
I open my heart so freely, surrendering everything to the magical, mysterious experience of love.
Then things start to fall apart, and we begin to hide behind the fairy tale that we have built up in our minds. "My job comes first and you fall somewhere beneath that," I was told early on.
I hide in silence keeping my thoughts locked away in safes, hoping that the situation will change, that things will become better, but they don't. Lies are told to the therapist. I am coached before therapy sessions on what to say and what not to say.
I hide in silence fearing that I will not be believed, even by my own family and friends.
I hide in silence, even when my friends question my change in emotion.
If walls could tell their stories.....
Prison of my body as well as my mind
I hid away in our home that once was our castle, now a prison of my body as well as my mind. A prison where I have become accustomed to following rules, and doing what I’m told.
I hid in silence behind the vows we took. The only vows you took to heart was "To Have" and "To Hold".
"To Have" me? I'm a prisoner in my own home. "To Hold" me? Yes, you've done that too, but against my will.
If walls could tell their stories, and doors unlock themselves, everyone would have a view into the little secret hell, the one we fight so hard to keep secret….that you fight to keep even to this day, accusing me of making it all up, accusing your children of imagining it.
Crazy? That is what you want me to think I am.
I stood behind that promise that you will never do it again, telling me you meant no harm. Yet you reminded me of occasions that you stood over the bed ready to finish the job.
Never dare to even whisper
Un-break my heart
I hid behind the shame and the guilt. You made everyone feel that the blame was mine alone-and my feelings were not real.
I hid away in self-imposed isolation, knowing that it would just be easier than having to explain my every movement of every single day.
I hid away in self-imposed isolation, allowing myself to be bullied, in every abusive way, in every shape and form.
I hid behind my role as a parent, hoping that the effects would not be witnessed by, or be an impact on, our children.
I hid behind my role as a friend, never daring to even whisper what was going on within our home, feeling so alone, even though friends are all around.
I hid in silence, opening my mouth to tell them, but nothing comes out, not a sound, remembering the warnings.
What is truly going on...
What was truly going...
I lied to my family and friends about what was truly going on, although some suspected already.
"Please do not tell them about the knife," you mouth across the room, as the police visit our home once again.
When I do admit, you have your friends explain to me just how miserable my life would be without you since I had no job. "Do you have any idea how much women would love to be in your shoes.?" I am frequently told.
When I do admit you have your police friend explain to me how I really do not want to have my children’s father in prison.
That same police friend even speaks to your children, with your permission, telling them how they imagined the whole thing.
When we do admit, you have your friend explain to me that you have a lucrative job and I don’t want to do anything to ruin that.
Silent screams for help
I hid away in my lack of self-esteem, taking all these things to heart, never feeling like I am worthy of better, or capable of making it on our own. You had begun to break me.
I hid behind my silent screams for help, but allow it to continue each and every day. "If you go into the ER, they are gong to ask you how your arm got hurt, and then they will investigate me. Is that what you want?" you ask me.
No one hears. No one sees. No one says.
In front of others we joked and laughed, as not to show our past.
I hid behind my professional role hoping that the career does not feel the repercussion of the situation at home.
I hid behind our duties to each other, doing what I am told to keep the image of the perfect marriage, the perfect home-life as pristine as possible, hoping and thinking it could get better.
The Strength of a Woman
No longer afraid of you!
I hid for fear of being. I fear in life.
I hid in fear of being, afraid that I should try to wake up and try to live,
afraid to love and be loved, not realizing that throughout the whole situation my silent nerve was being built, together with my will to live and to thrive.
“You will never make it without me,” I am told. "No one will ever want you."
"Don't you dare come back to the house, or there will be consequences," you stated in front of someone who I called my friend. She said she heard nothing.
That first night I slept in my car in a park, until the police caught me. I was homeless for 4 days, but technically it was much longer, six weeks actually living with a friend, until I found my own place and moved in.
The stalking continues, even while our children sit in the backseat of your vehicle. The calls continue all hours of the day and night.
"What are these," you ask. "Divorce papers," I replied.
"I never knew you had it in you," you stated.
I never let you see it, but inwardly I was shaking. I wasn't sure my knees would continue to hold me up, and as I walked away in confidence, I whispered, "Neither did I."
After all I did to keep you out of jail several times, the stalking now begins, the harassing phone calls all hours of the day and night, the drive-by's, the calls to my family and friends in an attempt to discredit me.
You think that you have won, and you stand behind the hope that I am broken on the ground,
but you don't know the plans in place nor do you know the strength that I have found.
I am no longer a Coward. I am no longer afraid of you!
© 2016 Gina Welds
manatita44 from london on August 25, 2016:
I understand, You have my empathy ... my two-pence worth of prayers ... my wish for your continued progress to an ever-increasing virgin dawn, with the sun shimmering through the windows of your Soul. Praise Be!!
Gina Welds (author) from Tampa, Florida on August 25, 2016:
"Writing two or three of these articles are or can be healing..." Yes! That is why I am doing this. It is a process of healing for me, a moving-on...sort of bowl-burning ceremony for me.
manatita44 from london on August 25, 2016:
Emotional! Passionate! Real or life-like. Strong! Poignant! So much of life follows this pattern in one form or another. But you know, the other can be as helpless as you, and much oppression or brutality, springs from inner pain.
We do not condone them ,of course. To move on can very often be painful. Many fears are born out of loneliness and the desire for Love; of self-esteem; of worth. Within all this there is an insecurity, because the inner flame needs nurturing and is not receptive to the Higher forces of Light Divine, pouring from above. The only way to heal the form.
Writing two or three of these articles are or can be healing; but at God's Choice Hour, give the Light its place in the darkness, so necessary for the transformation from the earthbound to the Divine. I believe that you are blessed with this insight. A lot here, my Sweet Friend. Om Shanti! Much Peace.