I told him to get his hands off me.
He did not care, and I did not try again.
Because the bruises from last time have yet to fade.
And now I have scars that will never go away.
The first time he made me leave my friends,
I should have ignored him.
Instead, I listened, I became submissive.
I should have told him to go away,
Done my best to leave him.
I should have talked to someone about him,
But he made me feel so afraid.
Afraid that no one cared,
Or that I deserved it.
Or that I had done something wrong
And just not known it.
He made me feel like everything was my fault,
Even when I could not control it.
The weather, traffic, you name it,
I was made to feel responsible for it.
He controlled me in a way no one should.
He beat me just because he could.
He knew I would not tell,
And he knew that I was afraid of life without him.
I had put up with him for so long,
I no longer knew any better.
I was pathetic, "a wretch of a woman,"
That's what he had always said.
Free will was not an option,
As the only Will that was important to me was,
"Will this be the day he goes too far?
Will I be able to protect my family?"
All the heartbreak, all the anguish.
I was just a pawn in his twisted game.
Just a thing to beat and manipulate.
I clawed my way through each day,
Kept my head down sometimes,
Tried not to step on a land mine.
But every topic was a land mine, and I was clumsy.
I started out writing this about anxiety and personifying it as a male, but as I went, it started to become more of a tale of domestic abuse. Honestly, to me, anxiety is sometimes like an abusive spouse, so read it whichever way you prefer.