If I had a serious illness, my phone would ring, my friends would call around, bring me lots of comforts and inspirational comments to help me cope and believe in my survival of the disease encompassing my body. But losing my life to deceit, my whole world falling apart, losing my home, my sanctuary, my peace of mind does not extract the same care or sympathy, or compassion. But I can tell you I am on the same pathway of suffering and pain. My home is no longer my prerogative. I did not ask for this, I did not plan for this, it came to me like a silent bullet. What makes a physical illness different to my position is that no one can openly see it.
So what is my position?
In a split moment on a Wednesday evening, I find that KBC Bank is going to the courts to take a repossession order on my home. A disclosure that rocked me to my core. Emotional Abuse ends in many ways. The mortgage payments were not being fulfilled unbeknownst to me resulting in the repossession order, and it was presented to me as a fete comply.
The scars from mental cruelty are profound and probably more long-lasting than wounds from punches or slaps but are not seen or recognized as a broken arm, or black eye is. Often my narration of my experiences has been denied, trivialized, or distorted. The wounds of my heart and the scars on my mind are bottomless. Now the potential of losing my home is the hardest punch of all. My connection to my home is the first thread in my life. My home is part of my self-definition, my identity, it defines the line between me and my surroundings, it is my shrine of peace. It’s more than a sheltering roof and embracing walls. It is the core of my being, my soul, my lifeblood. I always have been a home bird. Travel has been a big part of my life mostly due to work and at the core of those days was knowing I would return to the soulfulness of my home. So losing my home is not about bricks and mortar, it’s about my soul.
There are many descriptions of the soul and here is mine. My soul senses the force; that animates my thoughts, words, and actions. It is the wisdom that shapes this animating force into patterns of experience. In the depths of my home, my soul is still and boundless. It flows in a countless variety of emotions and thoughts that glue my mind to my body, my body to my home and my home to my life.
Emotional Abuse is dangerous; it’s as harmful as physical abuse. It can whip your life away in one fell swoop.
I have a You Tube Diary on the story and ongoing processes to keep my home that might give other people in similar position spirit to find a way to keep their home.
This is my Voice full blog.