It’s been a long year and now I am starting to understand to see and believe that I was abused. This time last year I could not eat, got thinner and thinner, I could not sleep, I became exhausted, and I did not talk to anyone so I became more isolated. But mostly I was terrified of how I felt. All I wanted was to die. I was in a clinic for my protection. I was given handfuls of medication to help me cope. I went to hours of counseling.
The only thing I knew was I needed to express my life at that time; the agony of the secret was too much for me to live with. I had to express it, to fight back, to challenge the abuse. He did not offer me the opportunity to do it privately, instead putting up a legal barrier of protection. So I wrote poems and posted tweets. I knew I was taking a chance on being labeled crazy or vindictive, whatever someone would think. But when you feel you have lost your foundation your footing in life that really does not matter. I did not want to be a victim; always strong and independent I could not bear that feeling. The Poetry was my lifeline. But then as we entered the later part of year and I compiled the list of emails and texts exchanged during our relationship, for the lawyers, it painted a canvass that I could finally clearly see of a dysfunctional time of chaos, lies, sex. I had a light bulb moment: to continue engaging with that relationship in whatever form continues to make me his victim so it’s over. I don’t want to be his victim anymore. I want my own life back. I want my freedom from abuse and I am grabbing it.
In all the destruction of my mind I found that the rock, my foundation. My true soul mate has always been with me albeit we drifted apart: my husband John. Its been a tough time for you: I love you darling and thanks for understanding, caring and mostly not judging, just loving.
Thank you to all my friends who did not judge but patiently understood, you know who you are.
Thank you to my extraordinary parents and the kindness and support of my sister.
Thank you to the wonderful Dr. Michelle Cahill my Psychiatrist – for naming my suffering, for her care, availability and hugs, for the space and time to reconstruct myself. Without her I could not have made it.
Thank you to my lawyer Ciara Matthews for holding on tightly
And thank you to all my poetry followers: for your inspiration
But mostly thank you to my wonderful wonderful daughter who had to cope with her own heartbreak from the fall out. I am so sorry.
And Thank YOU Artfetch.
Adieu to 2013