Good afternoon, friends! Today I feel like absolute crap physically speaking, so it's a bit hard to do things. However, I don't want to get behind on posting again, so I am going to attempt to make a coherent post anyway.
A few days ago, I started working on what I expected to be a "scrap piece" on a 6"x6" canvas. It turned into a tortured soul, bound in darkness. She cannot see her captors or the blows raining down on her. All she knows is that she is afraid, in agony, and has no way out of her situation. She has lost all hope.
As I reflect on this one now that it is done, I can see that this soul is what my soul used to be. Stuck in an abusive relationship. No one able to help me get out. No one I could be honest with about what I was going through on a daily basis. Police had yelled at me, told me I needed to be "sure" about what was being done to me, because otherwise I was ruining a man's life. I didn't feel I could go back to them as things quickly got worse and worse. Threats of broken bones. Actual cracked eye socket. Concussion after concussion. Sexual assault after sexual assault. Knives held to my throat. A gun held to my head. Being beaten with a rod, a hanger, a phone charging cord, his fists, his feet. Having his child's high chair thrown at my head, barely missing, then bringing down a bookshelf almost on top of me. A lighter held just under my arm as he held me in place and threatened to light me on fire. Food intake controlled so I wouldn't drop below his determined weight for me. Limited time with friends, if any. If I went on any trips anywhere, I was always "punished" upon my return home. I started wearing long sleeves even on hot days to hide the bruises on my arms. Tights under dresses or skirts to hide the cuts and bruises on my legs. Heavy makeup when he lost control and left bruises on my face. Even around the house, I had to cover up because we lived with other people who would see and comment on every mark. That always led to worse consequences. Opening the freezer door, shoving my head inside, and slamming the door repeatedly on my head. He decided when I cut my hair, when I dyed it, how I kept my nails, how I spent any money left over after paying my bills. I was not allowed to red out of the house unless he was with me, or else I was whoring myself out behind his back. Direct punches to my kidneys and my liver. When I got pregnant and finally told him at the 10-week mark, he ordered me to get an abortion. I refused. I had already had early testing done and knew I was having a girl. I wanted that beautiful baby. He beat me harder than ever that day with the rod, then raped me viciously with it until I felt an agonizing cracking and popping and the blood started to pour from my body. That is how I lost my precious Elizabeth (Ella) Mae. I was so paralyzed with horror and numb from the loss that it took me nearly four more months to leave him.
These are the things I put up with for nearly two years. I am lucky to be alive. Some days, my soul still feels like it's missing. Like it's back in that house with his hands all over it, beating it into submission. Those are the days where I barely muddle through. Silent. Numb. Disconnected. Trying to distract myself from the body memories and flashbacks. They have been intense lately.
So I do art. And I journal. And I visit with my boyfriend and his daughter and grandkids. I play puzzle games on my phone. I make phone calls, send text messages, try to reach out and talk about anything but my ex fiancé. Somehow he inevitably becomes the topic with several people I talk to. People who have seen me through, whether from a distance or becoming hands-on when I finally left.
I will not give his name out because I don't want to get slammed with him claiming libel or slander or whatever it may be since the District Attorney decided not to pursue the charges against him. He'll take any chance offered to come after me. He used to threaten not only my life, but the lives of everyone I love. He never followed through on hurting anyone besides me, though.
I'm going to go ahead and end this here. Thank you to anyone who made it through the entire thing.
Healing and Peace,
Jenny
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