I don't like to write sad things but there are so many sad stories in my head. I think of them as sad because they make people sad, but, I don't really feel anything about them. I don't really feel a fucking thing anymore.
I get asked something almost every week & I really shouldn't. It's fucking 2017 & I live in Massachusetts, an international landmark for higher education.
People are still so dependent on their Abraham-ic beliefs. I left a relationship with my childrens' father a few years ago. It was a very narcissistic / empath type of thing. I was mostly the empath. He threatened to kill me. He killed the battery in my car every night so I couldn't leave. Would take my phone away. Threw coffee mugs at me & my babies but he missed every time. Held me against a wall, tried to throw me down the stairs but I'm tall & strong & could break free. I wasn't very strong, then, but I got stronger.
And yet.
And yet.
"Was it really that bad? Did he hurt you THAT BADLY?"
-This is what people ask. It is not enough that I am a single mother & my two children & I are a family. People want justification it was THAT BAD before acknowledging me. As a Mother, as a person.
One day, oh, one day.
"Only bruises & PTSD but I figured my kids shouldn't grow up with a corpse as a Mother."
Honestly, please light yourself on fire before judging anyone else.