Unseen Scars

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
Some scars will tell us what their stories are, but what about the scars that cannot be seen by our naked eyes? As a child we were told that sticks and stones can break our bones but words will never hurt us. Now that we’re grown up, we will learn the hard way that some words are fatal and are capable of leaving us scared for the rest of our lives.

Submitted: May 24, 2012

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Submitted: May 24, 2012

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Have you heard the term “verbal abuse”? Some of us know it by just its definition and some of us know it, because we are or we were victims of this heart breaking form of abuse. I for one was a victim. I’m not proud of it; in fact I had a hard time admitting to myself that I was victimized by an apple that hid his true color under the cloak of spiritual crap (no offense to the spiritual ones who’s reading this). Turns out apples come in different cloaks of decoy.

It was summer after I graduated from high school when I met Ethan Ash. I thought he was the right one for me, although I really don’t envision anyone as the “right one” maybe because I don’t believe that it exists. Even though, he is not that good-looking guy I fell for his godly personality. He asks me to always go to church. He told me that he is a god-fearing person and I admire him for that. Little did I know, he’s not what I think he is.

In my past and first relationship I’m the superior one. Some says I have a very tough personality. I’m stubborn and my emotions are guarded by some imaginary hard-ass wall. They might be right but I’m not so sure. All I know is that, I always go with what my gut tells me and what feels right at the moment. But with my relationship with Ethan I became the submissive one. I don’t know how he tamed me; but whatever he tells me even if sometimes I don’t want to, I will just close my eyes and do as he says. He never lets me go out with my friends. He forbids me to wear short dresses, sleeveless shirts and even skimpy t-shirts are not allowed. I find it illogical, but whenever I questioned his rules he’ll start yelling at me, and then he’ll tell me how ugly I look in my dresses or how slutty I am in my skimpy t-shirts.

There was this one time when a guy friend calls me to ask about something; he goes ballistic with words such as bitch, cunt, slut and some other terms that were never associated with me before. But that was not the first and last time he calls me with those demeaning terms. I never thought that he’s a jealous guy specially that, he has nothing to get jealous about because I’m not that beautiful or so, he makes me feel that I’m not beautiful. He has this insane power over me that whenever he says something humiliating, I will just suck it up and cries myself to sleep hoping that when I wake up everything will go back to the day he’s wooing me.

I thought our relationship is just like any other relationships with occasional fight over some silly things. I thought that whenever I feel so sad about it, I can just try to drown my repressed feelings with the combination of hot bath sand a bottle of beer, but I was wrong. That worked a couple of times but not all the time. One night I tried to talk to him so we can fix whatever problems we are having.

He told me as he clenches his teeth, “You happened to me and that is what’s effing wrong. If you’re just an effing perfect girlfriend this bullshit talk won’t be necessary”.

I tried to be cool about it like I always do, but at that moment I could no longer stifle my tears so I just let it fall. When he saw me crying, he hugged me and told me, “I didn’t mean to yell at you”, and once again I bought his cunning act.

It was more than four years when I felt that nothing good is happening with us as a couple; we are just like a television show that never gets tired of playing its reruns. However, every time I feel like leaving him he will always tell me with his resounding voice, “Kara Colesen, no one will ever love you the way I do”. My mind tells me that he’s dead wrong but my stupid heart tells me otherwise. I don’t know how to get out of our relationship anymore even though it’s obviously an unhealthy one. I hated myself for putting on such a bad-ass mask so no one could see that my self-worth is starting to wither and die inside.

I couldn’t tell my family what I was going through because I’m too proud and too ashamed to admit that I made a dreadful decision of being with him. I was wrong all along about him and I can’t do over that chapter of my life but I know I could end it, and so I did. With the help of some good friends I muster up my courage; when Ethan showed up to my apartment one evening I told him with a very stern voice, “I’m done with you. You heard it right; we’re through. I know you’re not the last person in this world that will be able to love and accept me. Thank you”, I almost choke as I utter the last part of my speech, “for breaking my heart over and over until I could no longer think of any reasons why I keep on fixing it for you”.

Cutting him off of my life was not easy; saying the words I said was hard but the harder part was to convince myself that what I told him was utterly true. I guess the price of my misguided love was pain and never ending self-doubt. Even if some friends told me that I should move on and forget what I’ve been through; it’s like, in my head there is a broken record that plays hurtful words frequently. And so I asked myself if I still have a worth as a woman and as a person; am I still sane or I completely lost my sanity. There’s no waking moment of my life that I did not wish to have a magic potion that could annihilate the broken record in my head. While, I may not have any magic potion to mend myself, I did have two steps that helped me to have a new perspective in my waking days and I want to share it with you: First, accept that you’re a victim because denying it will do you no good. Second, stop wearing the mask of false courage because after the first step you’ll need a shoulder to cry on. Although, you are entitled to keep sentiments, bad memories or issues to yourself, try to learn to share some itsy-bitsy details of those things to the ears that are willing to listen. It may sound cliché but no man is an island and you know it’s absolutely true. I can only tell you those steps and the next one is for you to find out, because to tell you the truth I, myself, is trying to figure what my next step should be.

Whoever came up with the phrase “sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me” is either emotionless or deaf, because in reality words can hurt like hell especially the spiteful ones. It may never give you bruises, wounds or broken bones but it will give you a wounded self-worth and scared spirit that no medicine will be able to heal. Trust me, I know.


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