My abuser has been dead for several years, but the fear he instilled in me allowed him to stay with me long after he was gone.
It wasn’t the act of forgiving my abuser that tormented me; it was forgiving myself for the scars I had to confront every day, both inside and out. These scars were not just physical reminders of his violence, but emotional and mental chains that kept me tied to him, even after his death.
When I found out he was dead, I just stared at the news, numb and unfeeling. But beneath the surface, a flood of emotions swirled. I wasn’t sure where to begin, so I’ll start here…
I remember the first thought that crossed my mind: I don’t have to be afraid anymore. The terror that you would come back, as you so often threatened, was finally gone. The relief was palpable, but it was short-lived.
A few days later, a wave of sadness washed over me—sadness that you never found a way to be truly happy, that whatever demons haunted you from your past led you to become the monster that tormented me.
Whatever happened to you, it created in you a deep, monstrous pain, fueled by hate and rage. I understand now that you were broken long before you came into my life, that your spirit was ravaged, and you wore a mask to hide your torment. But with me, you took that mask off, and I bore the brunt of your violent rage.
I understand that you were screaming inside, desperate for someone to hear you, to acknowledge your pain. But what you did in those moments was far worse—you created a home for yourself inside of me. You lodged yourself deep within my mind, my body, and my soul, embedding your cruelty and anger into my very being. Even though you are no longer here, I have allowed you to stay, to occupy space within me that you no longer deserve.
So, no, we can no longer coexist. You can’t reside here anymore. You no longer stay here.
The thing is, I believe in leaving people better than how I found them. I truly do. And that’s why, all this time, I’ve been holding on to you, trying to find some point of connection with you other than rage. I wanted to find something human in you, something I could hold onto that wasn’t just pain. I hate what you did to me, but I could never hate you. And that realization, that struggle to reconcile love and hate, is what kept you here, in my mind and heart, long after you were gone.
But I’ve decided that’s no longer good for me.
So you no longer stay here anymore.
As you once taught me, there are rules to engagement. To allow you to remain a part of me, to let you continue to haunt me, would be an act of internal violence. And I’ve decided that I love myself too much to allow that to continue. I am done with the remnants of you that have lingered for too long.
So you no longer stay here anymore.
I’ve spent years trying to outrun the residue of you, trying to escape the shadows you cast over my life. But I’m not the one who needs to move anymore—you are.
So you no longer stay here anymore.
And because you no longer stay here anymore…
The words you spat at me in anger, the insults and threats—they no longer stay here anymore.
The things you did to me, the violence, the manipulation—they no longer stay here anymore.
The way you made me feel—small, broken, worthless—it no longer stays here anymore.
You are no longer here anymore.
I am free.
In declaring this, I reclaim the parts of myself that you tried to destroy. I take back my power, my peace, and my joy. I am no longer a prisoner of the past, of the pain you inflicted. I am a late bloomer, rising from the mud of all that you tried to bury me under. And I bloom not because of you, but in spite of you, through the grace and strength that God has given me.
You no longer stay here anymore. I am free, and I choose to bloom in the light of that freedom.
Comments