**Trigger Warning: Although I do not find what I have written below to be triggering, some of you might. I’m expressing raw emotions in this piece and those can be frightening to some. Take care of yourself.**
I feel this morning like sharing my soul with you once again. This time I’m going to discuss how it feels to know the abuse of the past has hindered the present.
I Could Have Been So Many Things
I wanted to be a scientist, a mother, be in a dedicated relationship with someone, and have a wonderful career that I enjoy. I’m intelligent and curious. I’m dependable and love to learn. I could have been so many things.
But my abusers had different plans. They wanted to use me for their sick pleasure and did not care at all about my future. True, some believed I would grow out of it and forget what happened and some thought I had already forgotten it because I never spoke about it.
They Were Wrong
I remember too much of what happened, and it has affected my life in so many horrific ways that I cannot list them all. Here is a partial list though:
I was married once but left the marriage because of fear
I’ve never had children or been pregnant
I’ve lost a breast to cancer which is often a side-effect of childhood abuse
I’m confined to a wheelchair from a stroke-also abuse related
I’ve not finished my PhD
I don’t have a career
I’m not a scientist
I live with the diagnosis of dissociative identity disorder
If I kept listing the things I am not because of what happened to me I will become depressed and weep, so I will stop there.
Sometimes, I feel so damaged.
I’m a Fighter
Now that I have shared my heart with you, I hope you will read on because I’m not defeated, just sidetracked.
No, I didn’t get what I deserved in life. I’ve been held down and back so much that it would be easy to get into the “poor me” mode and stay there. But, if I did that who would win? Who would be victorious in destroying me?
Wouldn’t it be the adults who harmed me when I was a child? Wouldn’t they have the final say over my life and wouldn’t they own me in doing so?
I’m a natural-born fighter because I’ve had to be. My therapist stated the other day that I’m a fighter and have been all my life. That is true, but what is more important is that I refuse to roll over and die because of what those bozos did to me when I was growing up.
They are shit heads who deserved to spend their days in prison, and now many of them are dead.
That’s right! I have outlived their asses and I will continue to move forward despite what they did to me.
Taking Stock of Who I Am
I’m not extra brave or brilliant, I’m just me. No matter what people say or think, that’s what I want them to know the most, I am a human being just like them.
I may not have a scientific career or Ph.D. I have craved all my life, but I have a blossoming writing career that I love wholeheartedly. I may never be a best-selling writer nor earn a good living doing it, but I love sitting with my computer and composing original pieces about subjects I know so much about.
I am Shirley J. Davis, a strong and seasoned woman of 59 years who loves people, loves writing, loves animals, plain loves. I can’t think of any other way of living that would be more satisfying than that.
My Future Isn’t That Long
I’m going to die young. That’s a fact that is inescapable. I am in a wheelchair, one whammy that takes twenty years off my life; I am a survivor, another whammy; and worst of all I have developed genetic COPD which means I will live ten years more if I’m lucky.
Sometimes when I think about it, I become emotional. I want to live to see the future so badly. I’m not talking twenty or thirty years from now I mean I want to be alive in the next century and no amount of exercising and eating right will make that happen.
I can’t help but feel I was born in the wrong century. If I could, I would go to sleep and wake up in two hundred years to learn what we as a species have learned and what we are doing with that knowledge. I crave to live in a Star Trek universe where people are accepted as people and no one goes hungry or lives in poverty.
I know, that’s fantasy, but I think anyone can see how my not getting the to be the person I wanted in my life has left a void in my soul.
I’ll Keep On Trucking
You know why I’ll keep on going despite my disappointments and broken dreams? Because I refuse to allow those who don’t believe me to get away with it and I refuse to allow my past abusers to win.
No, the bastards will never win over my spirit and my determination to prove them all wrong.
I live on because I’m a fighter and they cannot break my spirit. To those of you who say I’m lying or that “poor Shirley, she is so mentally ill” I have a few things to say.
It is you who are lying about what happened. He was not a good man he was a wicked and despicable person who should have gone to prison when I told on him. Either you have closed your eyes and your minds against the truth, or you were complicit in what he was doing.
There are dozens of more women whom I have spoken to who were little girls living near him whom he “bothered”. They are hurt, although not as bad as me.
I’ll keep on trucking because none of you will ever win over me. I am strong and I will remain so until I am on my deathbed and even then, I’ll speak up against what happened to me and how your silence has hurt me.