When I was with the man whose lies no longer hurt me, I believed he held my freedom in his hands. I believed I could only be free with his love. With his words. His voice feeding me the lies I called the truth. The lies I believed were truth and was too afraid to uncover with my questions, with my doubt, with my fear he was telling lies.
Freed of him, I know the truth. I am free when I watch my words. When I listen to my voice. When I hear my thoughts and acknowledge my presence in my life — without measuring my journey against someone else’s belief they hold my freedom in their hands.
It took me awhile to get here. Here to this place where I know my value is found in everything I do and say. In every step I take to claim my birthright to be my most incredible self.
See, I believe we are all born magnificent. It’s the journey through life that robs us of our brilliance. It’s the road through where we came from, where we’ve been, that takes us away from where we are meant to be in all our brilliant light.
With the man whose lies no longer hurt me gone from my life, I am free to be all of me. Free to dance in the rain. To shout out for joy at the top of my lungs just for the sheer exhilaration of having a voice that can be heard. A voice I’m willing to raise. To speak up. To yell out with. A voice.
It is perhaps the greatest thing I lost throughout that relationship. My voice. My belief that my words. What I had to say, what I thought, what I wanted to speak of counted. For me. For those I love. For something other than just the filling in of the space between where my truth ended and the lies began of someone who could not hear me.
I swallowed a lot of words with the man whose lies no longer hurt me. I swallowed so many words I almost choked to death.
In freedom, I pull out all stops, unblock my vocal chords, polish up my song and sing for joy that I am free to give voice to what inspires me, encourages me, motivates me, sets me free. I am free to speak up and be heard. I am free to speak of what is important to me and know because it is important to me, it is important to my life.
You can’t do that when you’re with an abuser. Speak up, that is. You can’t speak up because his voice is always drowning out your words. His voice is pouring out lies and with all those lies, you can’t make sense of your own name, let alone who you are, what is happening, what’s going on, what’s the problem, what’s the issue. You can’t make sense of his nonsense because his voice keeps pounding in your ears, filling your mind with poisonous words that clog up your thinking and push back the sound of your own voice speaking up.
I never spoke up with the man whose lies no longer hurt me. I never gave voice to my fears, my tears, my sorrow, my confusion.
Except once. I yelled at him. It was on the phone. It was after a particularly long bout of his telling me how ungrateful, how selfish, how stupid I was. I yelled at him to STOP IT! He didn’t listen. He kept screaming at me.
I threw the phone across the room and I cried. Deep wrenching sobs that spilled out from my gut. Tears streaming, my voice silent as I stared at the handset where it lay on the floor a few feet from me. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I whispered.
I had no voice when I was with him. He didn’t want me to have one. So I made sure I didn’t. I always did what he wanted. My doing what he said was the balance in our relationship. As long as I toed the line, obeyed, played the role he created for me, dressed in the clothes he set out for me, walked the way he wanted, talked the way he needed me to speak, saying the things he wanted me to say, balance was maintained. As long as I kept my voice silent, there was no shift of power, no unsettling of the unsettling balance we maintained with my silence.
It is a fine line we walk when toeing the line of their abuse. It is the line of self-annihilation. The pyre of self-immolation. We burn the threads leading to our past, scratch out the road leading from who we were and who we want to be as we become all they want us to believe we deserve: Their victim. Their possession. Their object.
In freedom, I walked away from who he told me I was into the truth of who I am when I let go of believing I was safer if I just stayed silent.
I don’t believe in silence. Silence is violence.
The violence of his abuse was found there. In silence. It lurked. It waited and it tortured me with its need to keep me still in the unspeakable darkness of the web of his deceit.
No more.
Today. I am free. Today. I speak up. I speak out. I speak for what is loving and healing and kind and caring of me.
Today, I turn up for me and speak my truth knowing I am free as long as I walk in the light of being my most magnificent self, every moment of every day.
It is my manifesto. My right. My destiny. My truth.
I am a magnificent human being on the journey of her lifetime dancing in the light of being all I’m meant to be when I walk in freedom from abuse.
You can be here too. Dancing in the light. Singing out for joy. All it takes is letting go of the bonds that keep your voice silent. All it takes is speaking up. Speaking your truth. Speaking your joy. Living in the exhilaration of being alive in this crazy-mixed-up oh so beautiful world where you are free to be, deeply, profoundly, noisily, vocally, You.
You are amazing. And don’t let anyone else tell you differently. You are magnificent. Exactly the way you are. And your voice counts. And when we count our voices together, we become a mighty force. For change. For truth. For freedom.
Let your voice be heard.
While I was reading your blog post the thought came to me –
what a gift the written word is – what a gift that we have printing presses and computers – what a gift it is that there are people willing to take the time to write their thoughts, their learning and to unselfishly share it with the rest of the world – how lost I would be without words come as gifts from others –
yes there are all those words that wounded us – but like a knife, a gun, a hammer, an axe – words are tools and can be used for good or for evil –
I am so grateful for your word M. That was a stunningly beautiful piece and I am so glad it is what I read to start my day.
Blessings to you for sharing your gift.
Dear Louise,
Your lovely, joyful words speak volumes, poetry in prose, a philosophy of loving self. Thank you for this magical, musical article that resonates like a bird song in spring.
Louise,
What beautiful words ‘”Dancing in the light. Singing out for joy.” And don’t forget to laugh.
Louise,
Thank you for your words. As always..thought provoking, inspirational, and beautiful. I guess I’ve had a bit of a revelation this morning reading this. I guess I never thought of my ex as controlling. Or that I didn’t have a voice. But I didn’t. It’s so clear to me now. I was expected to be PERFECT and when I wasn’t up to par, he had no problem telling me about it. If I wasn’t tan enough, he wanted me to tan, he told me what finger nail polish to wear..and god for bid if I had chipped nail polish, that was a big no no. He wouldn’t touch me if I hadn’t completely shaved every inch of my body…for 4 years that man never saw one single hair (just ridiculous now that I look back) He would scold me if we were in public and someone other than him was speaking to me for too long, said I made him look bad because everyone knew I was HIS woman. He told me he would dump me if I ever changed my hair color. He told me I wasn’t allowed to move away to go to college because he wouldn’t travel to see me (ironic, because I know he flew to see other women). I wasn’t allowed to drink coffee or eat onions because he didn’t like the way my mouth tasted if I kissed him. All of these things seem so silly to me now. Everything was his way…all of the time. It makes me sad to think that I didn’t realize it then. I was under his spell. Literally afraid to mess things up. I wanted to be perfect for him because I loved him and wanted him to be happy. But I know now, that he loved the image of me. All of his tactics were ways of controlling me and drowning my little voice out. He hated when I spoke up. Anytime I did, it was grounds for him to disappear and come up with some reason for why he was mad at me. And in some sick way, I always found myself apologizing and trying to make peace. God it was so sick.
Well, I feel free now. It’s a scary free. But I don’t live under this pressure that I was under for 4 years. It’s such a big relief in some ways. I have no nail polish on, and the polish on my toes is super chipped. I haven’t shaved my legs in weeks, and I’m drinking a big ass mug of coffee. I just thought I was being a considerate girlfriend at the time, but he was using these things to control me and I see it now.
The last time we spoke, my little voice was ready to be heard. Everything that I swallowed for 4 years, every time I bit my tongue…it all came spewing out that night. I’ve often said that I’m glad my little voice didn’t give up on me, because I sure did. My life was spent to make him happy. My happiness depended on his. Well not anymore and it’s such a good feeling to be doing what I want to do. I’m free to dance in the rain, singing out in joy!! Thanks Louise, your words have helped me once again to realize another step in my healing process. I will continue to make my voice be heard.
Dear Louise. Thank you so much for your wonderful words. Yes, silence is violence! At my work they try to annihilate me through silence. They won’t succeed. Unfortunately I can’t fight them overtly because I think, no I am certain they can also ruin my future, so I keep up the mask of normalcy and come here reading for encouragement. You can’t imagine how much your words helped me through the day today. Thanks from the bottom of my heart.
Ugh, I need a virtual hug. 🙁
I do believe wholeheartedly in NC and have not spoken to Satan, despite his attempts to contact me, since I last saw him in court two years ago.
However, I have two colleagues who had ties to him. I did address those because I found it interable not to. One appologized to me, said he did not understand the nature of the situation and broke off professional and personal contact with that individual (the con man to whom I had been married).
The second is married to the bag man, who handled the extortion. Needless to say, that discussion has not gone well.
I know, I know.. But I did need closure. I also understand there is no way that second colleague is going to admit her family’s role in the abuse given her vested interest in the matter.
Anyway, I’m fairly confident I’m not making any sense whatsoever…just needed to vent.
We need an Oxy call-in line. 😉
Amber,
You go girl! I’m so glad you’re seeing through the charade.
Thanks Donna,
I know I’m doing the right things for myself right now. But this post really made me look at the LITTLE things in a whole different light. I was able to look at the big picture and realize he was controlling the situation by lying and manipulating me, but now I see that even the little things…right down to the nail polish I wore was under his control!! Just the way he wanted it. I hope the new victim has a lifetime supply of red comet polish!! LOL!
And Leah (((((HUGS)))). Just keep venting. Sorry you’re having a bad day. Stay strong.
Thanks, Amber. It is just a bit overwhelming at times.
It’s just a bit tough not being able to talk about this. I did see a therapist. But after I said the word “sociopath,”she was worried he’d kill me or worse. So that unfortunately ramped up my fear more. Anyway, without the context – and I’ve never posted the whole story – I’m sure my concerns don’t really make much sense. Oh well.
Glad things are going better on your end.