She woke every morning, she moved every hour, she slept when allowed.
She did not consent to this poison. This intravenous drip providing enough poison to distract her perception of her self identity, rights and feelings. The initial sting of the needle, the discomfort of its presence made her speak up and act up; this only caused her to be scolded and told she needed this in order to survive.
The more she was scolded, the area began to numb.
She became resilient, a survivor or so she believes.
It confused her how a strong and resilient individual could lack self worth, self identity and energy to fight. Contrary to her upbringing, where she witnessed a loving family life, parents who supported each other with love, energy and respect. There were moments of conflict and tension, but the presence of love was undeniable.
How did her life consist of undeniable fear, despite the numbness of this poison… She could feel the fear of the initial sting, the consequences if she removed this invasion of her identity. Fear felt like anxiety, anxiety feels like depression. Each day the fear determines how she will get through that day. It controlled the decisions she made at the shop, the clothes she wore. She contemplates whether today is an appropriate occasion to wear foundation and mascara or will a clear face let me go unseen which felt like a sense of security. Fear stripped away every single friend she ever had, the friends who had put stupid ideas in her head, did not understand her responsibility as a wife and mother. The friends she misses so dearly. She had managed to maintain one friendship, which primarily existed on her phone. Occasional coffee catch ups resulted in a sour atmosphere for the remaining hours of the day. The direction she received, she should be asleep when he drank into the early hours of the morning. She should not give details of her family to her colleagues, she should do the job and return home. She should be ashamed of her body and accept that she will never be desired by another human being again. The body that carried and provides for three babies day in day out. She believes every word, it destroys her at the core. She was a fiery yet gentle human being who felt confident in getting what she wanted and doing what she wanted for other people. She was and probably still is a woman full of love and care for other people. Her heart is spiritual and full of empathy. She feels brief comfort in the thought that her God in carrying her. She does however feel undeserving of any support or love. She is a shell that has served its purpose, not even worth picking up to cherish.
The struggle has left her weak and angry. Frustration, pain and fear filling her body up. The fear of death no longer exists in her mind. She has been scrupled up and left with a sickening feeling that she no longer understands her purpose in life.
Yet she continues to walk through each day, each month and each year resilient and weak. Wondering if her fear will fall away from her one day, as easy as it is inflicted. She sees pain as an opportunity to escape, but the pain inflicted is not often substantial enough to shock her into calling for help. She regrets the time a fist landed in her head and a plate opened up her elbow, she regrets not knowing what she should do, she regrets not being as educated as she is now.
Education opens doors, she knows what is right and wrong; the strings that wind around her body and mind are far to strong, far too complicated and far to rough.
Her story continues.