Now that I remember all the horrific and humiliating assaults that I endured, I wonder, why did I want to survive so badly? I sometimes wish that I had just let them kill me.
- They said I was broken - I knew they were wrong.
- They treated me like an object - I believed I was a girl.
- They thought they were better than I was - I knew they were wrong.
- They tried to break me, and I fought back, and they tried again, and I fought back again, when I quit fighting it was only so I could survive... not because they broke me.
- I swore I would show them. I would prove them wrong. Someday they would see what they rejected and they would cry at their loss as I was crying for mine.
I had to repress what they'd done to me in order to survive all that. Now that I can access those memories anytime I want... and sometimes be haunted by them at inconvenient times... what will fuel my fire to survive?
- My kids
- My husband
- Potential grandchildren
- Prospective, but as of yet non-existent, friends
- Retirement plans with hubby
- Hope... that I'll forgive myself, let go of their shame, stand up for myself, put myself out there again, find something I love to do, help other people, stop stressing over things I have no control over, stop worrying about the future, learn to trust again.
What about you? Why did you fight to survive? What keeps you here? What makes you glad you survived or What will it take for you to be glad you survived?