She was a teenager. Living in an emotionally abusive home. Alcohol was often being consumed by her Father.
She told many adults, asking them for help. Some said she needed anxiety pills. Others said, there was no proof. Some looked at her with sad eyes.
The Father claimed he loved her, but was never present in her life. It sounded good, he lived her. He told stories, and people listened and filled him with sorrows. Those kind of sorrows which filled him with power to continuing destroying the little hope which was being left inside of her chest.
He was a master of lies.
Never before had he pictures framed of her.
He framed pictures and made sure people would see them. He really loves her, they thought, not knowing it was a scam.
She promised herself never to stay silent just to make him comfortable. If it so was the last thing she did!
One morning I realized while sitting drinking my morning coffee, that if my daughter or son, would be harmed in any possible way, I would fight for them.
I would be laud and direct, fighting for them to be heard and believed. — as I already have done in some ways— I would fight for their voice to be heard and justice to be made. Write about it. A matter of course!
But why in the name of …..did I not make myself heard? Or even fight for myself, in a more determined way?
I was shocked when I realized that I was quiet, hiding scared in a dark hole. Refusing to come up and fight, to be laud, set boundaries and say, “Enough is Enough!”
For two decades now had I fought for the Animal Rights. I was well known for rescuing many animals. And maybe also for my three published books. I could get the cruelest person to hand over their abused animal to me. In that case was I strong, and determined.
But how come I didn’t stand up for the person that needed the help most? I asked myself again!
Maybe it’s Because there are groups of different kind of help. You can be “lucky” to come to the right person right away, or, your road starts taking a scary turn, with the wrong people behind their desks.
We trust them. Listens to their promises. We trust their occupation, of course they must know what they are talking about. Right!
There are good people helping, but they are overloaded with work.
It doesn’t get easier because you finally dare to leave. Then the revenge starts.
Silence can make the wrong people continuing with their harmfulness. I started writing about this theme 1996, still not bigger of a change. More Women Shelter are being built. Good and sad.
It’s time to stand up, reunite with the past, starting today.
“Connection is the holly quality threads we animals has together. Have you ever thought why you humans still are depressed, even when you got everything around you? Food, roof over your head, a warm bed, a job, psychologists or other therapists!
You still feel lonely, disconnected from “something”, and you don’t know what!
You are disconnected from your spiritual you!
Many of you feel holly (connected) when together with either horses, or dogs (or other Animals) You feel loved, secured, you just are together in a connection that feels good.
The truth is, humans are more lonely today than ever before. You don’t have each other as you ones did. You need each other.
Everything breaths together. Heal each other as the Animals. We are a community, a group that breathes together.”
The new horse stood and ate in the corner in his new box. I could sense he was very relaxed when I peaked in to him. He looked at me with his curious eyes.
The horses brought my anxiety level down very quickly. I could breath slower, and it was like I felt my thoughts became clearer. Could that really be possible?
I had been sent to the farm by my psychologist. She told me I needed to surround myself with animals in my recovery program, not only talking and eating medication. Animals, and especially horses and dogs, had shown amazing results in clients recovery. And what was even better, the clients continued with animals long after they had been healed. It was like an enormous thankfulness, and the feeling of being accepted, not judged, covered in thick unconditional love, and patiences. The therapy horses were indeed perfect therapists.
I longed to get to the stable and brush them and even talk to them. Today there was a new horse. When I walked into ‘his’ home I made sure I felt respectfulness and gratitude towards him. I had learned from the owner, that I shouldn’t worry about anything else, only to be aware of my thoughts. The translation into energy would work itself and the horses would pick it up. The horses would react on what I did, and felt inside. The horses would also teach me boundaries, a good lesson I could bring back to the outside life.
The owner told me she could communicate with animals. Something I wasn’t sure was possible.
She shared what her first horse hade taught her. Yes, she was a strong believer the horses were her teachers, not opposite.
“I am not only listening to your words. I listen to your use of words, the tone, and even your body language. Your eyes, your face expressions. I can even hear everything you don’t say.”
One thing I learned through the long journey as a victim, was to find strong survivors for support and advice.
These incredible women (and one man ) understands first and foremost, all the different emotions which (many times ) are making it difficult for the mind to move forward.
They are also helping with my recovery and growth, to become whole again. They understand the time it takes. Small steps and big cheers!
What I love with these strong women I am surrounded by, there are never any talk about revenge. Only to get knowledge and love (support) and possibilities for myself. And of course laughters, between the tears.
Psychological abuse leaves no bruises. There are no broken bones. There are no holes in the walls. The bruises, brokenness, and holes are held tightly within the target of the abuse.
Emotional and financial harm are the common ways to destroy the target.
Every week I hear the same kind of stories from different women. My Mother, one Doctor, Psychologists, Stay Home Moms, one Army Captain, Nurse…. I can go on and on. One thing these women have in common:
They are beautiful smart women, but became targets by harmful men. Not, of course, in the beginning, that would have been to easy.
Groomers, with love bombing and learning how to mimic the women’s dreams. Playfully, like a cat is playing with the mouse. It’s a game.
“Because it’s fun” one man told me. Another man shrugged his shoulders, he just did it! Why? He couldn’t answer.
The silence will keep more and more women in the shame trap, if we don’t speak louder about it, openly.