I can understand why hurt women act the way they do. I get it. I’ve been there a few times.
When the pain you feel is so intense, that you’d rather lash out and hurt someone else to ease you of it, if even for a moment.
When you’d rather not feel it at all and contemplate thoughts of self harm, perhaps trying it and preferring it over the pain inflicted on you.
When you toss and turn at night, finding no comfort in the dark and no peace while you sleep because memories of past traumas are loud when the world is quiet.
When you long for the numbness, to disconnect from the world, its people and the actions that have broken your heart and let your love run dry.
When you’d rather settle for a lot less than the motivational speakers insist you deserve, because you’re just glad for anyone being nice to you.
When you feel so numb that you act out, sleep around, make controversial statements, argue with loved ones, indulge in drink and drugs, anything to make you feel alive and normal.
But what is normal?
For you, it’s the false promises and the unbearable disappointment that follows when yet again that person lets you down in the way they said they wouldn’t.
When you desire love but don’t have it for yourself, so you look for a love you wouldn’t even recognise in all sorts of unsavoury places.
Like, what is love anyway? People talk about it a lot but what actually is it? And I’ll be honest here, I wouldn’t really know, other than what I feel for my children.
Where do I start? I was sexually abused as a child, grew up in domestic violence with two different abusive step-dads, my mum tried to kill herself a few times, she died from cancer when I was 18, I never knew my dad and he doesn’t make an effort with me now, so really what do I know about love? My childhood didn’t teach me much of it.
Happiness, maybe it’s finding happiness. But then you get confused because you find happiness in the things you eat, the occasional glass of wine, the credit card purchases, the jealous glares from other women or the men that want to have sex with you. It’s nice to be wanted, right? And for a while, for a long while, you pursue all of that because to you that is finding happiness. It makes you feel good for a little while and so it must be love, surely?
Only you eventually realise that you were wrong. When you’re crying over another fuckboy because he has just told you about his real relationship status and though he insists you’re amazing, he is just not in the right mindset for a relationship right now. It doesn’t come as a surprise, why would it? This is always the outcome, no matter how you try to be loving and understanding and appreciative and be whatever they want you to be, they always disappoint and they always leave, taking their unfulfilled promise of love with them.
You get upset and you get angry, thinking that they owe you that love. You did everything they wanted and you still didn’t get it. You then beat yourself up over it, cruel words uttered from your insecurities through your mind and into your heart, until you are convinced that there is no such thing as better.
Looking for love in all the wrong places, I understand why women do what they do when they’ve been hurt. Past trauma leaves a shadow on our heart and we’re forever looking for the light, forever looking for the love to make us feel like we are wanted.
It took me a long time to realise that the light and love I was looking for was inside me. I had it all along, but I had been too busy giving it away to people who would never appreciate it.
I don’t want to be a hurt woman, it was never part of my plan. But I am here and there are wounds that need healing, especially the old ones which won’t stand a chance against anything new I have to endure. I was thinking about this recently and then I was reminded of Dr. Wayne Dyer’s teachings and decided that me feeling like this is a choice. I choose to feel like this. I choose to react this way. I choose to punish myself. This is my own doing. And while I have no way of controlling how other people behave towards me, I can most certainly control how I react to it.
So, I have decided that I am no longer a hurt woman. That will not be my narrative. Not all of the above is mine to claim, but regardless I refuse to claim any of it. I want to rewrite my story, relive my experience through new and wiser eyes. I don’t want to be a hurt woman because there is no happy ending in that story. When you hold onto the pain, that’s all you see and all you expect, and that is not something I signed up for.
I’ve decided I am a strong woman. An overcomer. A fighter. A positive thinker. A go-getter. I’m the kind of woman who believes in love, who has hope for sunnier days and knows without doubt that there is so much good in the world and its people. I am the woman who knows she is enough but also knows that there is much self-development to still do. I am the woman who is not perfect and accepts this as fact, knowing that nobody is and that is okay. I am the woman who tries each day, who battles with inner conflict between negative and positive self.
I am the woman you call when you need to talk, because I am trusted with your secrets. I am the woman you ask for advice, because you know my words come with love. I am the woman who bakes cake when you visit, or sends you quotes to make you laugh when you’re down. I am the woman who loves your children as though they were my blood, because I love you too like you were my sister. I am the woman whose light switches on when you talk about your hopes and dreams, because I am inspired by your passion and your drive. I am the woman who makes anything seem possible, because I believe it to be so.
I am also the woman who forgets about herself at times, so eager to put everyone else first. I am still learning, I am a work in progress and I am the woman who is totally okay with that.
That’s my story and I’ll be sticking to it.