I often ponder over stories I hear of abuse victims fleeing overnight, and I wonder if they are helpful or harmful to those who are still trapped. We hear of a “success” in finding freedom and are ready to applaud the brave soul who escaped. In truth, I think that we should instead approach these stories with an understanding that for many, though much was gained, an equal amount was often also lost.
We loved, or often still very much love those who dominate our every move. Perhaps they captured our heart once, but day to day life wore through their charm – and ours, so that they no longer view us as a valuable prize. Or, we never knew another life than that of a prisoner under the key of a sometimes benevolent, sometimes terrifying, familial dictator. “You need to get away from there. I’ll help you.” These well intentioned verbal prods do nothing. Our friends are frustrated because we stall, because we hesitate. They often don’t understand the ties that bind us. It’s not the threats or the fear that keep us – it’s the little moments – the tiny, hidden from outside eyes, windows into our abuser’s souls. We remember who they were, or who they could be, who they should be. That hope is what truly holds us.
When we dream of running from abuse, we do often sensationalize to ourselves what that freedom will feel like. We imagine a peaceful place far from daily fear, where we are unknown and free. Oftentimes, our fantastic dream includes a reunification with our abuser, but they’re magically reformed. We’ve spent years in a lifestyle that’s hyperfocused around one individual and must slowly allow ourselves to see past hopeful romantic ideals. Then, even once we’ve given up on being a witness to miraculous change, we’re still not strong. Oftentimes we’re the opposite – beaten down and resigned to barely survive in a life that feels hopeless. Our friends still prod us to take evasive action, discouraged by our daily decision to choose the familiar and copeable over our freedom. In reality, we are caught betwixt an enemy we understand and an unknown frontier which may or may not hold a better life for us.
When we do muster up enough courage to cut ties with a whole life, we’re not immediately free. Standing up is a learned practice, and we’ve bowed so very long beneath a massive monster. This, for so many, is the real battle. Trauma memories, deprogramming fear behaviors, and relearning to trust others will require more than a friend’s heroic overnight rescue. We have to learn. WE have to change. WE have to complete all the work that we so desperately hoped our once-love had done for themselves. Meanwhile, we ache deeply. We remember the once-love, and mourn the death of a relationship.
In time, though, we DO learn and we DO heal. We work to stand taller, we grow, and we find a new hope.
“Remember ye not the former things, neither consider the things of old. Behold, I will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth; shall ye not know it? I will even make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert.” – Isaiah 43:18-19
Creating Peace From the Pieces 