Maybe this has been going on for too long...
I am standing in the bathroom, observing my body in the mirror, beholding the changes in front of me. I can see parts of myself that I have never seen before -- parts that shouldn't be seen. Ribs, hip bones, shoulder blades, the trachea of my neck...
What disturbs me the most are my hands. I have never had beautiful hands; they have been abused and deformed by my years of nail-biting. But now they have become two grotesque things that I cannot stand to look at. The skin has become thin and stretched, highlighting every vein, bone, and tendon beneath. My skin lacks any color of its own, but has instead borrowed the blue undertone of my veins, giving my complexion this sickly grey color.
I am scared; I am becoming unrecognizable to myself. Yet I still hold the lighter in one hand, and the pipe in the other...
(Image created using an AI art generator on Night Cafe)
I am standing in the bathroom, recalling the conversation that has just taken place. Things aren't getting better -- I am getting worse.
"I don't want to do this anymore," I told him. "I don't like what we are becoming. I feel like death all the time."
His eyes stared back at me vacantly, and I couldn't be sure but I swear I heard him scoff. "So we'll quit tomorrow. But tonight we already agreed that we're buying, so --" He greedily helped himself to my purse, digging through my wallet for my money that I had made after a night of delivering pizzas. "I'm not gonna keep him waiting anymore. Bye!"
My eyes are sunken. I am killing myself. Nobody cares for me. I hold the lighter in one hand, the pipe in my other...
I am standing in the bathroom, desperately trying to wipe my eyes of the tears that won't stop coming. This women's shelter is unfamiliar, as is my future now, and I'm feeling pretty terrified.
I was just tired of hearing the lies, and if no one else was going to save me, I had to save myself. Except he didn't like that idea -- the idea of me finally leaving him, alone -- and things escalated. Hearing the questions, "Who did it? What happened?, only to receive, "Ah, this whole thing is a mess. We'll take her to the shelter down the street."
I do not have the lighter in one hand, nor the pipe in the other. I am entirely on my own.
I am standing in the bathroom, only I am not alone. I am in front of the mirror, watching as my toddler and I brush our teeth together. She has gotten into this awful habit of eating the toothpaste as opposed to brushing with it, and I sternly try to correct her habit for the umpteenth time. I tell her, "You need to take such good care of your teeth! You only have one set for your whole life!" because I know how fortunate I am to still have all of my mine.
She looks up and flashes a devilish smile at me, her own way of saying, "Okay mom; whatever you say!"
(Hello everyone! 🙇♀️ It has been awhile since I last posted in this group, but I am happy to be participating again! I thank you all for reading this far. Yes, it is all true, and yes, I am in a much better place today! I hope that anyone else who is dealing with a similar situation, or has experienced similar, finds the courage to make things better)
