Hopelessness is not only an emotion that abuse victims experience. Every day we open our eyes and envision what the day may bring. As the day progresses our vision is whittled down by our children fighting, the cranky person at the checkout, the road raging driver, the bills in the mail, and our spouses bad day.
All of this draws strength from your physical body, which then has to pulls it from your emotional reservoir, and when that reaches a depleted level you begin to react. This reaction is the point where you’ve let go of your vision of the day, and begin to survive what is left. Thoughts of hopelessness blink on and off, as your mental state tries to rebuild.
This same pattern happens in cases of abuse, but the starting point is different. The starting point for my experience with abuse is, hopelessness was constantly turned on. My vision of my day was, how am I going to make my mother, father, or ex-husband calm, because I am still in pain from my beating yesterday.
In my mind the thought would come, what was so offensive about me yesterday, that brought about this rage against me? I quickly dismiss that thought without answering, because it drops my ability to be alert. I am convinced it is better to stay in a hyper vigilant state than to entertain any thoughts about what I had previously experienced. I stuff away yesterday, and stay focused on now.
I once again get screamed at for who knows what, then hit for not responding quick enough. As I lay in my dark room, I allow myself to think, when will this all end? I don’t answer that either.
Even though both situations are different, there is an element of hope in both. In the first example, the persons day did not end in the way that they envisioned it. But, in the morning the thought will come once again, and a vision will form about what the day will unfold. They will hope that the new day will not hold the stressors of yesterday.
With my life’s example, I prayed that what I was living in would end. I wanted so bad to have someone see through the facade of a “loving home”, and to have the liars called out. In the beginning, I wanted to be touched or loved. By the age of 5, I wanted no contact. To this day, I am frightened of touch.
At the age of 29, my divorce was final, and I had left that relationship. At the age of 40, I cut off all contact with my mother and have minimal contact with my father. I put limits on these associations, to begin to hope. My hope was not for a better future, only for a different one.
Now at the age of 44, I am learning that as hope binds my broken heart, I am given extraordinary gifts. The sadness from my past, is being bound by hope, and it is giving me empathy. The hate yelled at me, is being bound by hope, and it is giving me kindness. The brutal acts against me, is being bound by hope, and it is giving me tenderness. The loneliness, is being bound by hope, and it is giving me compassion. My life, is being bound by hope, and it is giving me freedom. I am being bound by hope and it is giving me a voice to speak. From broken to strengthened, by Hope.