💜💜💜115: uncyclereduceabuse

The thing about abusive relationships is this:
you don't always end up with scars.

At least, not ones where you are left
beatenupbloody
brokenboned
blackandblue.

He had a way with words.
He was pleasant,
thoughtful,
sweet.

He said I was special.

It started off so well --
calltxtwhatsappskype
timeschedulesdistance
marriagedreamshomes;

He said I was special.

But then special
turned salient.

The grim atmosphere.

The undercurrents.

The addictions.

The dark side.

His past.

The present.
Our future.

What used to make my heart skip a beat
Made me forget how to breathe;
What used to give me butterflies
Gave me sweaty palms and goosebumps.

"If I just did a better job at making him happy, he would be nice again"

The mission to please became an obsession.

And I turned into an addict in denial

just like him.

At one point, I jokeconsoleremind myself,

"Hey, it could be worse.
At least he doesn't hit you."

This made me sober.

I've heard the stories,
I've talked to the women,
I've seen the horrors.

I had to leave.
And I felt free.

I wish everyone else in the same situation has the chanceabilityprivillege
to do the same.

---




The thing about abusive relationships is this:
You don't always end up with scars.

Not beatenupbloody blackandblue brokenbones ones, at least.

For me, it was a classic case of, "I thought only other people go through this."
simply because
"I should have been smarter than to let it happen to myself'"

Now, I'm not sure if it's necessarily about smartness.

Maybe it's smartness intertwined with or messed up when emotions come into the equation. 

Because looking back, it wasn't really obvious when I started feeling trapped.

He had a way with words.
He was pleasant, thoughtful, sweet.

He let me know how much he needed me.

He said I was different.

I'm special.

I lapped it all up.

I guess in retrospect
I should've known better.

But it started off so well --
we did the whole calltxtwhatsappskype
went out some despite timeschedulesdistance
we even had talks of marriagedreamshomes;

Things were pretty good
at first.

It was not long
before other things crept in.

The slow, but sure, 180 turn.

The grim atmosphere.

The undercurrents.

The addictions.

The dark side.

Then, more things became salient.

His past.

The present.
Our future.

But i had to be kindacceptingunderstanding, i kept telling myself.
And so i kept readjusting my bearings to where he was. To what he was.

It took me a while to realise what this actually meant:

that I was adapting myself to him.

I can't be the way I am.

Because I'm not good enough.

But I still had to make him happy.
By hook or by crook, even if it meant I had to be someone else.

And so my feelings, thoughts, and actions started to be (sub)consciously dictated by
how he would feel ifs, 

what he would do ifs, 

what he would say ifs...

And the little things he did that used to give me butterflies started to give me goosebumps...
And the lively calls slowly became more and more one-sided...
And the jokes turned into accusations or insults.

But he wasn't always like this.
He wasn't.
Honest.

And this was the fuel that kept me going.

Because I'm different from all the other girls who left him, you see.

I'm special.

And there's always that voice at the back of my head:
"If I just did a better job at making him happy, he would be nice again"

The mission to please became an obsession.

I didn't realise that it was an impossible one.
And so I turned into an addict in denial

just like him.

It was only when I began to jokeconsoleremind myself,

"Hey, it could be worse.
At least he doesn't hit you."
... that I realised the gravity of this situation.

I've heard the stories,
I've talked to the women,
I've seen the horrors.

I had to leave.

It wasn't easy.

The lashback was painful
The pleas were guilttripping
The callsmessages had to be blocked
but I managed to escape what has been caging me.

And I felt free.

I wish everyone else in the same situation has the chanceabilityprivillege
to do the same.

99: they say it gets easier

as my hands
already overbr
imming
with half-
baked promises
and swOllen from the burden of
inc_mpl_t_ tasks
are faced with
LifteD
brows;
it gets easier, they say
as they
generously offer
MORE MORE MORE
of everything
without even *batting* an eyelash,
with a heapful of
words of enc(our)agement
like
l e t u s f i l l y o u i n
there's no better way to learn;
it gets easier, they say
but
There seems to be vicious creatures
TERRORIsing them in their homes
which are often called commITments,
but oh
"nothing for you to worry about,
pup
pet,
because commITments only
b
u
g
people who have
something called
LIFE

they say it gets easier,
"don't worry --
later
you can do the same to your juniors."

-
written: april '13

last edited: 021313

49: monu_ental

the only spaces
we can fill in our lives are
breaks and intervals

1/11/12 3.23am

44: en garde

right when i thought i
could cruise control, you came in
and caught me offguard


26/10/12 3.04am

37: bloody vengeance

let's just move on and pretend
that everything that happened didn't happen,
because i do not fully understand
(and you can't possibly comprehend)
why these old scars have reopened,
but they hurt like fucking vengeance.

34: Wasting away

i'm wasting my time
i'm wasting my youth
i'm wasting my sanity
i'm wasting my energy
i'm wasting my strength
i'm wasting my life away

and i'm well aware of all this
but i just don't know how to

STOP

21: What I was told

ever since i could remember,
i was constantly told that i was
a bit too dark and my body was
a bit too fat and my hair was
a bit too curly and my feet were
a bit too crooked and my voice was
a bit too loud and my smile was
a bit too wide and my demeanor was
a bit too unfeminine and my pronunciations were
a bit too gobbled up and that
nobody
will marry me unless i changed.

bless your hearts
for warning me of how my life will always revolve around the idea of how marriage-material i am,
and
please excuse my insolence in questioning your authority and wisdom
but
i'm a bit Confused:

if i change, there is a chance someone might like me,
but
if i change, is there a chance i will like myself?

11.33pm

12: My Four Seasons

Passion like summer heat,
Faith like spring flowers,
Thoughts like autumn decay,
Heart like winter showers.

I'll be completely honest: I'm pretty heartbroken right now. Returning to my home country has been quite eventful for me. Leaving my 3.5 'student life' years behind, ie. my memories, my loved ones, my independence, my freedom... yeah it's pretty hard. Although I've been enjoying the food and meeting my family and friends, a lot of things have been brewing in my mind... about love, life and everything in between. As soon as I touched down on that plane that night, I realise that I'm back in reality; my bubble has burst, and it's time to shake myself awake.

I have only been here for a few days, but I've felt a variety of emotions of various degrees. Essentially, I feel tired that my thoughts & philosophies are being challenged by the people I trust and cherish - not exactly in constructive/positive ways. I'm getting tired of the put-downs and the general dismissive/condescending attitudes that adults here have...

I've been told that I'm too idealistic about the world -- and this will ultimately lead to my disappointment in myself and society. I've been told that that's simply reality - things can't always turn out the way we hope/expect them to turn out, because that's not how the world works.

I've been told that I need to look good all the time -- I need to wear the right clothes, I need to not get fat/pimples/scars, I need to do my facial routines and makeups, I need to dress nicely even when I'm not going anywhere important/for long; I need to LOOK MY BEST ALL THE TIME. I've been told that this is important in (Malaysian) society, because people decide our worthiness by our appearance, and if you're not thin, you're not in.

I've been told that I don't know how life works, how the real world is, how things really are -- how, essentially, people are. I've been told I'll never 'get it' because of my upbringing, that I can never truly understand, that I've got it easy and I should be grateful and just accept the fact that everyone leads different lifestyles and there's absolutely nothing we can do about it.

I may seem naive for being idealistic, but at least I haven't given up on caring about society because I believe that many 'rotten apples' CAN still change; they've just not been given enough opportunities/support in their lives to improve. At the very least, I still have some faith in people and not judge people simply by my first impression.

I may look ugly for not having the 'ideal' face/body/skin, but at least I know that beauty on the outside is nothing compared to what's on the inside (and that's what I personally treasure more). At the very least, I know that it's cruel to psychologically cause people to feel frustrated and ashamed about the way they naturally look.

I may sound stupid for saying/questioning certain things despite the fact that I've never been able to experience the things that the people I talk about have to experience, but just because I didn't share their (mis)fortunes doesn't mean it's impossible for me to empathise with them, and doesn't mean I'm completely blinded by my own life. At the very least, I am willing to admit that I could be wrong and have a lot to learn.

I am not that brainless, worthless and tactless.

Sorry for the long ramble, but it's amazing how one week at home made me realise why I love&hate everything here. I guess, like Tennessee Williams notes:

'Memory takes a lot of poetic licence. It omits some details; others are exaggerated, according to the emotional value of the articles it touches, for memory is seated predominantly in the heart' - The Glass Menagerie.