Get out of your pajamas!!

I wake up every day and ask myself if this will be the day. Will this be the day that I will start to live again? I have good intentions and believe that with every moment that I’m awake that this is the moment that life begins again. I realize that today will not be the day, just like all the other days that have passed me by, where I have tirelessly worked to live as if I was living, so that no one would suspect or think that I was not a survivor. Tired and embarrassed of the friends and family that tell me to move on with my life, it’s easier to remain in the isolation that was created for me by my abuser, then to venture out and participate, trying to hide any glimmer of desperation and pain. So, today would not be the day that I start living, just like all the other days that have passed by, during the past year and a half. In my silent pain, no one imagines what it’s like, what it is to wake every day and be reminded that the future is no longer here, that the past was a sickening betrayal of my incredible faith, belief and trust in another human being, a person that embodies every character of emotional unwellness, of an abuser.

Maybe tomorrow, yes tomorrow, I will get out of bed when the alarm goes off and be ready for work on time. I will get out of my pajamas before the afternoon, maybe eat something other than the prescription medication that would help me think, focus and organize my life. Oh yes, organize my life. So, perhaps today would be the day the hole in my heart would close and I could take a deep breath and live again. Today might be the day that I can think, focus and organize my life, without that nagging veil of blackness that travels to the center of the hole in my heart. Deep in that hole, I hide a wailing, a screaming pain that begs to be set free. If only that pain could erupt and flow I might one day get out of my pajamas. It’s like a tsunami, waiting, making me suffer in my deep hidden painful silence.

I am a farce, I am a fool and I let a psychotic, sociopath touch the center of my being. Isn’t there another soul in this world that understands? This is a beating of a different kind, one that has moved me into a place in my life where I never thought I could ever be. The horror is that not only has my perpetrator managed to be a covert abuser, who has managed to keep his actions secretive, the abuse is minimized or discounted. A physical beating would have let me move forward. Only then would the world understand, because only scars and bruises will evoke compassion and understanding. The emotional horror I’ve endured has severe and long-lasting repercussions.

Imagine that, you’re not crazy, but it seems that, with every beat of your heart you wait patiently, hoping, wishing you might waken from this dream to see the person you loved by your side, comforting you and telling you that all is well, it’s only a dream. That the breath that brings you life, will be the breath that helps you out of your dream and into living freely as you had did once before. It just might be the breath that gets you out of
those pajamas.

"When you see a snake,
never mind where he came from."
~W. G. Benham