Friday, November 4, 2011

The wrong kind of love

*disclaimer: I'm not sure where this post will go, I'm not even sure if I will finish this but I feel compelled to blog about this after a long while of hiding from it*

Love is a beautiful, amazing, wondrous thing. To know that I am loved; by God, by myself and by others is one of the driving forces in my life. But there's a dark side of love too. A destructive side. A love that wounds without intention or sometimes without knowledge.

I've known that kind of love and everything that came with it has shaped the person I am today. A couple of years ago I was in an 'abusive' relationship. A relationship that started off well but which could have destroyed me.

Let me start by saying that there are lots of opinions about abuse, domestic violence etc. (I know because I've heard a lot of them) but I'm not here to validate those opinions but just to give my account.

I fell in love. And in the beginning it was all I ever wanted in a relationship. Then things changed. What should have been meaningless arguments escalated to bouts of emotional and physical abuse. There were always tears and begs for forgiveness (on both parts) and over and over again the promise 'not to do it again'. But those promises were empty. The love between us was too needy and too involved to see the damage and so the cycle continued. I wasn't aware of it at the time but my identity started to slip away, I didn't think the same way or act the same as before. The more love I invested in him the less I invested in myself and with that I made myself even more vulnerable.

However I was fortunate. There came a time when enough was enough and the destruction had to be over for good. I'm blessed with the most amazing network of family and friends who made sure I never went back to him and who supported me in my darkest days. I often wonder what would've happened if I didn't leave. To be honest I could've been dead.

I would love to say. We broke up, I got over it and life is all good now. But the truth is: that kind of love scars. Sometimes I feel angry with myself for still thinking or feeling sad about it. The product of that love was a lot of fear and anxieties. I get anxious when I see couples arguing, I get agitated when people even mention the words domestic violence.

Despite this, I can hold onto the fact that I'm alive and I'm breathing. And everyday I give God thanks for that. I've been blessed with a wealth of opportunities and I'm proud of the person I am today. Sometimes you have to be broken to be healed; its all a part of growing and I know I've got much more growing to do. I've learnt some valuable lessons. I've still got some healing left to do but I've come to accept that sometimes it's okay not to be okay. I'm only human after all. Even after seeing the damage love can do I haven't given up on love just yet. I still live in hope that one day I will share a beautiful, pure and enduring love with someone. (P.S that guy will be very lucky because I am one hot mama!)

There it is. I did it. And surprisingly I don't feel sad, I feel empowered. For every negative, there's a dozen positives. Every cloud has a silver lining!

1 comment:

  1. We live and learn. A conscientious, raw and uncut account in regards to your thoughts, feelings and opinions. Nice.