The troughs of her wavy hair,
perfectly fitted the grip of his fist.

The more he pulled,
the shorter they grew.

Loved to paint the walls,
with the anything she cooked.

Everyone's got a way to express love,
well not like others his way was a little rough.

He said "I'll love you until I die",
ironically his love was the reason of her demise.

No one wants to hear about the aftermath of survivors of domestic abuse.
But Everyone loves to hear a good story. The story of how she had the courage to leave. Everyone wants to hear about all the horrors you had endured. The violations, the violence, the control. They want to hear everything in detail. They want to hear as so they can feel it themselves.

But what they don’t want to hear is the aftermath and healing. After you tell them your lifetime movie stories of the heroine that survived. They just want it to end there. Like you would ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after, a fairy tale.

After you get away you move on to the next stage. This stage is remembrance and grief. No one wants to hear this. There’s no excitement. This is the stage where survivors again, are supposed to shut up and heal in silence. because if you don’t, then you’re seeking attention.

But what if I don’t want to shut up. What if I want to shout all my anger from the roof tops until my lungs are empty and my throat is on fire?

If you do, then the world will look at you as if you’re too aggressive. Like you’re not a true survivor.

The world thinks no survivor should be angry anymore. That survivors should just be grateful that our war is over. Is that how I should see it , as if I’ve won.

Oh please Society, tell me; what did I win?? What exactly is my ******* grand prize??  

Congratulations Alex you’ve won memories that stop you dead in your tracks, dreams of revenge against your abuser putting him through all the suffering you had to endure, You’ve won the feeling of being completely alone and not even being able to trust yourself.

So that’s it? my ******* grand  prize is PTSD. That’s what I should be thankful for.
**** that ****.

I can’t even tell anyone what exactly I’m going through because people will think I’m feeling sorry for myself.

I’m not.

I don’t feel sorry for myself at all.
I’m angry because I was controlled. I’m angry because I don’t fit the stereotype of a domestic abuse survivor. I’m angry because i can’t talk about it to anyone except my therapist. I’m angry that I have to look and act like I’m happy all the time. When actually that’s exhausting for me.

I’m angry at the fact that I’m angry all the time.
I’m angry that I’m looking at what I just wrote down and thinking to myself that’s a lie. When it’s not. I’m angry that I can’t be honest with myself.

I’m angry that I have to learn how to not be angry. I’m angry that I have to do all this and my abuser gets to do nothing but be his selfish pigheaded self.

I’m just angry.

It’s not like I plan to be angry all the time. Being this angry gets to be exhausting too.

I am noticing that therapy is helping. I’m not as angry all the time and things make more sense now.

But I’m still angry.

I’m trying to write down exactly what I feel in this moment and write down what is exactly going on in my head.

All things that I don’t get to say.

So what do I have to say?

What do I want to say?

I’m mad at world for not caring about survivors as much as they say they do.
I hate those stupid motivational memes on facebook like “god helps you be strong” or “Jesus walks with you through hard times” my *** he does. And those memes don’t mean ****.

And all those people that share awareness but do nothing more then click a like button or share a post ******* too. You’re just as bad. You don’t care about survivors.
I don’t see you down in the trenches helping those in need.

I didn’t see you, when I was going through the hardest time in my life.

And ******* too professor storyteller. All that ******* of I help survivors and my heart bleeds for them because my own mother was a survivor.

I tried opening up to you and you completely dodged me.

I had faith in you and you let me down.

I needed help.

But my emotions was too much for you handle.

You like how people see you as a knight in shining armor when there is crowd.
But when it came down to put up or shut up you completely ran away.

So you get the biggest middle ******* finger I could ever ******* hold.
If I had a billboard I post it for the world to see.

I hope I stay in your mind for all your days as the truth of who you really are.

You and I both know that you’re a beacon of light for all liars with false hopes.

You and that high horse you rode in on can go ******* into the sunset.

You should be exposed for every time you step foot into a domestic violence meeting or awareness event as the coward who ran away.

You should be seen with a scarlet letter.

You’re worse than my abuser.

You offered hope when you had none to give.

You lied to me and you should be held accountable for those lies and the false hope you spread.

Like I said the world doesn’t want to hear a word of our grieving and healing stage.

They only want the juicy details like gossip.
So who’s really the aggressor?

egg shells
like bells
in a silent world

eyes shut tight

beyond the window
birds have eggs
     in their open
life

yet egg shells must break
risk must take

for life's
sake

_iano