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.
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.
Mia Mattsson Mercer 