Mental Health and Trauma Blog | Noisy
TW: I'll be honest I have no idea what trigger warning to put on this because it's brutal. Unless you're in a good place, don't read it. The sweet relief I felt as I sat on the window ledge and smiled as I embraced the impending freefall. What happiness it gave me to hear the birds singing one last time and for just a few seconds more until the silence would hit me like a train as my body hit the ground. The sun shone on me and warmed my cold, exhausted body. I smiled with tears in my eyes. You broke me. But it was all just character building. You couldn't let me go, could you? You had to drag me back in from the window ledge, telling me I wasn't allowed to die. You wouldn't allow me that one luxury. You controlled every aspect of my life and had for four years prior to this day. You waited in the shadows for three years until I turned eighteen and on my birthday you sent a message that changed my life. One I'd hoped for since I was a teenager. How fucking naive of me. Respect where it's due though you had me fooled, I honestly believed you were the man you had promised and portrayed to be. You went out of your way to make me feel as if I was special, you put me on a pedestal, you gave the impression that you worshiped me, and I believed the lie. I didn't have a fighting chance, after the war I'd tirelessly fought through, you were the prize (or so I thought). But you weren't, were you? No, you were a manipulative, controlling, vile individual. You showed your true colours after a couple of months when the mask you wore so confidently began to slip. You weren't caring, you were obsessive. You weren't protective, you were controlling. You didn't want to be in a relationship, you wanted to be in charge. You needed someone vulnerable to wait on your every word, you needed compliance. This was my first relationship, I didn't know what to expect, I had nothing to compare it to. With the life I had lived previously, this seemed perfectly healthy. Until the first time you hit me. Well, I say hit me, you threw a book at my face and gave me a black eye. Actually, let's take a little trip down memory lane and reminisce. Do you remember that time you couldn't find the TV remote and blamed me for it, accusing me of hiding it so you pinned me against the wall with your hand around my throat and then threw me on the sofa and bit my face? Or the time you got in from work earlier than expected and your food wasn't ready, so you took me to the bedroom and repeatedly punched me while I apologised and begged for you to stop. What about the time we were driving in the car on a hot day, and I put the window down to get some cool air, it really pissed you off, so you swerved towards a tree to teach me a lesson. Wait, we're not done yet. This is one of my favourites, do you remember when you had a loaded gun to my head? There wasn't even a reason for that one. Or that time you allowed me to go out for some drinks with the girls from work and after a couple of hours you came to pick me up, accusing me of being unfaithful (even though you came into the restaurant and saw me sat with them). Do you remember what you did to me for that? I do. I remember what you did during the night. I had to cry myself to sleep and when my broken mind had finally relaxed enough to let me drift off, you took that chance to take advantage. Do you remember what you said and the smile you gave when I begged you to stop? "Shh, I'm nearly done." It was considerate of you to let me run to the bathroom after. I jumped in the shower and used the bleach next to the bath to clean my body. I never could get that disgusting feeling to go away though. Do you remember when you hospitalised me because you saw the fresh cuts on my arm? You left me on the floor, struggling to breathe, after you broke three of my ribs by repeatedly kicking and punching me. You then had the audacity to storm out the house, as if I was the one in the wrong. You blamed me for your actions. I couldn't get up and it felt like there was no air in the room. My face and mouth were pouring with blood, my ribs were pushing into my lungs, and you left me there. But I think if I had to pick a favourite, as we crawl this path down memory lane, it must be the time you broke me. Do you remember it? Do you remember the time I was locked away in a room for days while you tortured me? I do, I remember. Every single fucking day, I remember. I'll give myself credit, I did fight back at the start. I fought with everything I had, but it wasn't enough. You broke my spirit. You equated it to breaking a wild animal. You needed compliance and brutality was the only option left for you. It would either make me or break me. You broke bones, you bruised and cut my body, you pulled out teeth, you starved me, you belittled me, you laughed at me as I begged you to let me go. I could feel your pride as each hour passed and the light in me that once shone so bright burned out. You felt so accomplished when you looked into my eyes and realised I was finally broken. I didn't look back at you I looked through you. I couldn't speak, I was a shell of the person you once manipulated. You were happy with the hard work you'd put in, so you let me go. I didn't move for a while, I sat where I had for those days previous, staring forward, barely blinking. There wasn't a single thought that ran through my mind, there was nothing. But then, for the first time in days I looked around the room. For a fleeting moment I was aware of my surroundings and what had happened. A moment was enough. I used all the strength I had to pull myself up to the window, it took immense effort to open it, but it was worth it. I pulled myself up onto the ledge, I felt faint, darkness was creeping in from the corners of my eyes. I used what little I had left to shuffle backwards to hang off the edge.
The sweet relief I felt as I sat on the window ledge and smiled as I embraced the impending freefall. What happiness it gave me to hear the birds singing one last time and for just a few seconds more until the silence would hit me like a train as my body hit the ground. The sun shone on me and warmed my cold, exhausted body. I smiled with tears in my eyes.
You broke me. But it was all just character building.
You couldn't let me go, could you? You had to drag me back in from the window ledge, telling me I wasn't allowed to die. You wouldn't allow me that one luxury.
At the time I hated you for it, even on the edge of death you still had to have control.
You did break me, but I used it to rebuild. I tell this story feeling no emotions whatsoever. It doesn't bother me anymore. But I know the memories of what you did haunt you, and I've watched as you've slowly broken down over the years, the guilt eats you up. You're a shell of who you used to be.
It broke you. But for me, it was just character building.
This is the fight of your life.
- Noisy.