Morning epiphanies

Trigger warning: suicide, csa, domestic violence, grief, trauma, and unrelenting lack of real love or intimacy.

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Last night before I went to sleep I looked at the photo of myself, with my newborn Crystal who I had just brought home from hospital. I thought about the ravages of time and how deeply I have loved both my children. It almost bordered on insanity.

I woke up not long ago and thoughts travelled through my head about my marriage and early life, really still a teenager playing “house” with two infant children and surrounded by so many, so many abusers.

I had stark memories of all the micro-aggressions that began the moment I signed my life away on the Ketubah and the civil marriage certificate.

I had a naïve hope that becoming a wife would gift me freedom, safety, love, honour but there was very little of those things. I merely became an object, a possession. A thing to be cut down and humiliated at every opportunity.

I held strong and stayed in that lacklustre passionless marriage out of pride. I did not want to fail. But ultimately I was failing anyway and I feared for myself and my children.

When I left with my young daughters… all hell broke loose. My own mother betrayed me constantly with my ex husband.

When I came home, freshly strangled and beaten, welts and bruises still forming around my neck where I had been throttled, my mother’s response was: “We should have beaten you years ago!”

I threw her out of my house and moved out of the marital home 6 weeks later. (No Money and ended up on the single mother’s benefit in dire poverty forever after…amen!) Lawyers, the family court and later the adult guardian, all working against me as they enjoyed the victimisation of a woman and her two daughters.

I thought about my last lover who I had hoped against all hope might finally choose me. By there had been arrant treachery on both sides too.

He had been cold and unrelentingly stalkerish but we had begun with what I considered a grand passion and I had ruined any chance at real love with him when I stated he was as cold and clinical as having a Pap smear done.

The woman I told this to had pumped me for information like one of those milking attachments you put on a cows udder. She was so callow and vicious and envious of even the merest thought that I might have found love…that she went to that filthy pub and told him what I had said.

I was horrified. I apologised. Most authentically!

But instead he made it his life’s mission to follow me at the pub and the casino and to stare and leer and drag women along to also stare and try to humiliate me and so began the old trope, the pattern of deeply traumatising abuse that has marred my life since infancy.

If they can’t fuck you they will fight you!

I also thought about my nascent friendship with Jarrod decades ago. He was a lifeline in my life back then and because I had never had a man show me any real kindness or decency I fell deeply in love with him. There has never been any intimacy between us of a sexual or even romantic nature.

But he was a solid friend and ally and at that time I needed someone like that. I am grateful for this soul nourishing friendship that stood the test of time.

I am however, still often distressed that I never found a loving sexual partnership and that each time I fell in love with a Man I was sabotaged by external forces that were usually out of my control..almost supernaturally evil in nature.

Except the last one…I ruined that all by myself. Lana was a filthy vicious piece of trash to take my private words and spread them around but… I did say them.

This morning I almost had to laugh though. The Pap smear experience. My poetic license rang true like a guillotine blade cutting through the dross, the lies, the deception and the lack of real intimacy or love.

A man who truly loves you wants to be with you. Enjoys your company. Lights up when you walk into a room.

I had seen Dave’s face light up many times, but it was false. He never stood by me or made any sort of commitment. It was all some sick twisted little game.

In fact my entire life was an exercise in disaster and treachery, in abject horror and loneliness.

In surviving so many abuses thrust upon my infant body that it set a chain in perpetual motion that denied me of ever having real safe nurturing love (or a life!) with a man...any man.

I thought I could resolve it by suiciding but that failed too.

So I had to pull up my big girl britches (those bitching itching Wollene Gutkes and start again from No thing…even from my own “Death”).

Almost 6 years later and what have I made of myself? Not much progress, still cleaving to love of the man that played me. An illusory hellish disappointment.

But the gods did gift me closure after my former psychopath homeopath lover died in 2016 so that showed me that my life is being healed, that all contracts with devils not of my choosing, are being sealed or separated in the igniting fire of angelic Light and smite and all I need do is Believe, Trust and Wait.

My star is rising. It got cast down as a meteoric obliteration in 2015 but this year I saw it begin the inexorable climb to the outer reaches of Space again. Little gifts lighting my way.

Gifts of love and encouragement. Gifts of Hope. My ever-burning Love reclaiming long dead or defunct parts of my soul. Awakening my creativity. Blossoming my bliss.

I have a long way to go before I can call myself a Success. But it’s not the destination that counts…it’s the journey. And what a ride!

Copyright Tanya Désirée Arons