Dear Abuser, I Am Done Forgiving You
And in the end, that is enough for me.
Abuse. Never a word I thought would apply to myself, no matter how many times I read and reread the definition of it from the yellowed pages of the dictionary given to me. But for almost fifteen years, I lived my life in a weird suspended state of consciousness. Numb, deaf, and mute. The sum of the entirety of my life was simplified to one word- silence. Silence. Plainly described as a complete and utter lack of sound. That was how I lived. In silence. It was only interrupted by the momentary loud bursts of skin breaking under a violent hit. The muffled screams hidden behind the closed doors. The quiet whimpers escaping between locked lips. The overwhelming and consuming sense of loneliness and isolation. The cold floor as it turns out to be the only comfort at the end of the day. Abuse. Silence. Hand in hand. A duo of trouble.
The words I have for you in particular are much harder to articulate than some half rate description of my childhood. The childhood you bared upon me with your sly smile, loud voice, and leather belt. I forgave you for years because I didn't know better. Because I didn't understand. But I do now. So here we go.
I am done forgiving you.
For years I dealt with your complete bullshit and how you took it all out on me. And I forgave you. I forgave you because I blamed myself. I blamed myself for the things I did that could possibly make you so angry. I blamed myself for asking for things I required to survive. I blamed myself talking in the wrong tone. I blamed myself for not being a perfect image. I blamed myself for wanting to be a kid. I blamed myself for wanting to be loved. I blamed myself. And that's why I forgave you for so long.
But today marks the day that I am done blaming myself. Today marks the day when my anger is bubbling over the edges of the pot of my sanity. You stripped me of my childhood. You beat me and bullied me into submission. You forced me to be a parent to my younger siblings when I was still but a child. You made me feel alone and that I would fail every obstacle life threw my way. And for that, you are the worst kind of human.
It took me a very long time, even after I left, to learn that I was never the problem. It was never me. It was you. Whatever had damaged you so much to the point of needing to take your anger and sickness out on a innocent child. A child who was not even yours to hurt.
I wouldn't change the series of events I now call my "childhood" simply because they made me who I am today. However, some days I wish that maybe if you weren't there, I might've turned out a little less broken. That maybe I would spend less evenings curled up in a ball on the floor, reminding myself that it will be okay. Maybe not today, but someday. That at some point these scars have to heal and that I won't look in the mirror and see the bruises anymore. But some day, life will turn around and repay the lessons you beared upon me, to you. And in the end, that is satisfaction enough for your crimes against me and the scars you left when you wiped your hands clean and walked away guilt free.
You may have robbed me of my innocence and childhood, but my forgiveness is mine to give. And you no longer have it. I'm done forgiving you.
The Girl Who Stopped Blaming Herself