Therapy in Writing?

I posted yesterday and am compelled to write again today to release my frustrations.  Writing has been very therapeutic for me over the course of the years.   I wrote yesterday in regards to the abuse that I endured from my husband which took me back to a place that I would rather forget.

I wrote about him slapping me, choking me and then spitting on my face out of frustration.  He married me while living with another woman, what gave him the right to be so frustrated with me???  After I hit publish on my post, all day I could feel the spit on my face and in my hair as if it just happened to me.  I went to a very sad part in my life where I was hopeless and no one was there to lend me a helping hand or even say, I’m with you.  20 years old and I was dying inside…

Later in the evening I had a bit of an emotional breakdown and it was due to me reliving what I had gone through in the past.   I don’t want to say it’s easier to forget my journey but wouldn’t it be?  During some TV time with my daughter, I burst into tears thinking about what I have been through and what I have done without, love that it is.  My young daughter consoled me and told me it would be okay.  I believe her but I would still like to know why MY journey has been full of so many obstacles?

Why is okay for one human to treat another human so badly.  I would never hurt ANYONE not even my enemies, so why did he and his family treat me like I was a horrible person?

Why were, and still are, my parents so afraid of what society will say?

Why did they not have the courage to say, our daughter is a good person and deserves better rather than turning a blind eye to everything.

How come my husband and his family didn’t see anything wrong with me being black and blue?

What goes on in someone’s head where they can justify beating someone to a pulp?

Why do they not feel bad for causing so much pain and anxiety to another person?

I gave birth to his 2 children, slaved away for him and his family, lost my own self finding them.  How come I am still not good enough?  I am the one left with all these traumatic experiences in my head and they seem to living a happy life, how is this fair?  I am the one who freaks out in my sleep, doesn’t like to be alone with men, doesn’t feel safe, am hyper vigilant for my kids, has nightmares with my eyes wide open, can feel every ounce of pain in the last decades and they continue on as if nothing has ever happened???  I am I that broken by these people who have no remorse or feelings towards my life in general?  Why the fuck am I still the one suffering when I haven’t done anything to deserve this treatment???

I feel hurt, betrayed, wronged, sad, angry, unhappy and just broken!  Do they ever feel responsible or is it just me being delusional?    There are so many questions that I NEED answers for!  Can someone, anyone answer them for me?  Why did I get treated so badly and was made to feel guilty for not liking my circumstances?!? WHY ME?


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