Tears of the Abused

Last night I cried the tears of an abuse victim. They are tears I haven't cried in over a year. I felt them burn in the back of my eyes. I felt the realization of what happened to me sink in. I had no choice. The tears had to fall.

I don't know how to feel about my situation. Describing what happened, out loud, is like throwing a big weight down in the room. I say the words, and they fly through the air and land with a giant "THUD!" that vibrates through my body. I sit there and stare at it and think, "Is that really what happened? That wasn't me that that happened to, was it?"

Truth is, I don't like to claim I'm a victim. I don't feel I have properly earned that title. I don't think my situation even compares to those who have experienced real abuse. I am guilty of inflicting too much hurt myself. I was not an innocent in this situation. But even so, my guilt does not take away from the scars I so obviously bear. The scars that surfaced last night as I had to face, once again, what happened to me. And the hardest part is accepting that it was real, despite the my horrible actions of regret.

I feel my loving Savior near by, telling me to give these things to him. Telling me to release my burdens into his hands. But I fight it. It's so much pain. Pain I deserve because of how awful I was. He shouldn't have to take that for me. But I know I need to give it to him. If I hang on to it it will become more crippling than it already has.

I have fought so hard not to let myself become a victim again. I have told myself, "Despite what these people say and think, I am not a victim. I am not their victim!" But even so, the feelings surfaced. Fighting these things off doesn't always work. Sometimes you just have to feel them, and let the tears fall.