I saw a video about an hour ago that made me so sad, so incredibly sad, and I thought I’d talk about it. Because it’s saddening just how much of the truth we like to conceal. How much of the truth we like to pretend doesn’t exist. It’s the uncomfortable truth that even though we are aware of its reality, we silence people who talk about it, and bask in the faux show of ignorance being bliss.
I saw a video of a lady lip syncing to a short song that said, “Love ain’t worth your life, I’ll tell you that. Once you leave, don’t go back.” Her body looked like someone splotched the ugliest greyish green paint on her, and suddenly, she turned her eyes and they were bloodshot, and had almost completely lost their whiteness. And immediately, I knew.
But I wish it's just the video that traumatized me. It was the comments, and since TikTok now allows for pictures in the comments, I had the most displeasure of viewing hundreds of pictures by ladies showing their beat up bodies from relationships they’d been in.
And I felt so sad. So incredibly sad, and I thought to myself that surely, we don’t still carry around the notion that it’s not that simple. That it’s not that easy to leave. And that sometimes you have to stay. For the children, because of what people would say, because it’s your fault, and you believe it’s your aggravation that caused him to react like that.
Looking at those women’s beat up bodies broke me to no ends because I know someone will tell me that I don’t understand. And maybe I don’t. I’ve never directly been in a situation like that, and fortunately, never ever had to witness that growing up. But I know people who had been in that situation, and I’ve seen how impossible it is for the abuser to change. Or even an inkling of a happy ending in any of these.
I remember visiting an aunt of mine several years back in her beautiful house with the beautiful paints and the beautiful sights. But almost on every wall were ugly splotches of brown, and I playfully told her that she may need to repaint her walls soon enough and perhaps, stop having hot cocoa fights with her husband. Then a smile so bitter, it didn’t reach her eyes, swept her face. And she said it was her blood.
And so I looked at the walls again. This time, with new eyes, and horror filled my face.
It’s never worth it. You can’t change an abuser. That’s one category of a person you can never change. So, why? Why sacrifice your life on the altar of something not worthwhile, whether in the short or long run? It’s rotten but it’s still so deeply rooted, and yet I find myself desperately clinging to the hope that as we grow, we learn to fight for ourselves. Fight for our peace. Fight for our happiness, and maybe this is too much to ask for, but that we learn to choose us. Love ourselves enough to always choose us. And see just how much better our lives can and will be.
Jhymi🖤
Images are mine.
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