Tag Archives: mental-health

Damaged Goods

Definition of damaged goods: inadequate or impaired. Products that are broken, cracked, scratched, etc.: a person considered no longer desirable or valuable because of something that has happened. This is a person whose reputation is damaged.

Are you damaged goods? Feel like you’re not worthy?

You don’t have to remain that way, regardless of your past, or present.

Was that ever me?

You betcha!

Read on …

Hollow. Pure loneliness. Dark, like a bottomless pit. Ripping in my chest. Piercing my heart. Again, he stays out all night. Overcome by torment. Abandonment accompanies me. Consumed with depression, isolation wraps itself around me. My mind races with wild imaginations of where he has gone, what he is doing, and with whom.

Instead of going to bed to sleep, I am wearing a hole in the couch. Every time a car approaches, I spring like a jack-in-the-box, peeking out the window, hoping he has returned. With every disappointment, my stomach turns into knots. My own sobs mock me until I cry myself to semi-consciousness. Hideous lies will follow after he returns and add to my anguish and emotional decline. 

Broken. Flawed. Undone.

That was me back then, dealing with my former (cheating) husband. His words, like rubbing alcohol pouring over fresh wounds, stung! No band-aids healed my emotional pain. No quick fixes. Deeper and deeper I sank into a dark abyss, crushed beyond repair. For several years, that was my pathetic frame of mind. I know now it didn’t have to be that way. So, what was the deal?

I had an overload of abuse: physical, verbal, and emotional. I had low self-esteem and zero self-worth. I believed and accepted a lie about me and my situation. I figured since this was my lot in life, might as well make the best of it. I had witnessed my mom go through a cycle of abuse, but I was obviously blind to my own. I made him mad againMaybe I deserved it … Talk about co-dependency!

How do you perceive yourself? Have you ever been lied to, beaten down, and trodden upon? Feel like you’ll never come up for air? Are you tired of stumbling around in blindness, things so bleak you can’t even see your own self-worth? Drowning in sorrow, buried in self-pity? Or maybe you feel you’re at the point of no return in trying to please someone else. You compromise your values, your mental state, your resources, and your health!

Stop allowing someone’s negativity or ill-treatment to rob you of your joy and develop a callous heart. Realize you are worthy. You are valued and matter. There’s nothing wrong with being fragile … but let it be like beautiful, fine china. Just know you are not damaged goods, a throwaway, or a faded memory. Don’t be someone’s victim because you listened to their lies and empty promises. I’m living proof that God doesn’t discard what He’s determined to restore.

Get up! Rediscover yourself. Feel your wrist. What is that? A pulse? Then you have a purpose! Allow the Master’s hand to reach down and set you in high places. He’ll wipe the tears and dust the soot from off your heart. If God got me out of the pit, He can get you out, too. It takes a made-up mind. A determination that today is the best day of the rest of your life.

What’s in your hands? What’s in your heart? A dream? A gift? A precious child? You have something worth fighting for. Choose your battles.

 If you don’t know my pain, you’ll never understand my praise.

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Filed under psychology

Daggers in the Heart

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Loneliness ate away at me. Insecurities consumed my mind. He came home whenever he wanted to. He expected me to ask zero questions. The more I clung to him, the more he shrugged me off like a neglected child.

On one dreary evening, in the foyer of our second-story apartment, I leaned on the window wall, glaring down at him sauntering out to another conquest. I felt like my heart had split in two.

He paused, turned, and glanced up at me, with that smirk of his. Like a proverbial slow twist of a knife lodged in me, his ominous grin cut and curdled my blood. His haughty expression loomed before my eyes, blinding me. My insides burned.

I flung my fist at him as if to punch him in the face–

Glass! Shattered into a million pieces.

A glistening shard of windowpane sliced across the tender flesh of my forearm, smearing crimson blood across my skin. My clutched fist of course never reached him and had only gone clear through the window.

He raced up the stairs and wrapped a towel around my wound, berating me for being a harebrained fool. But I didn’t balk. Even though he must have been more concerned with his own interest than in taking me to the emergency room for stitches, at least he stayed home that night.

Excerpt from Chapter 23 “Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit and Grace”

TRANSLATION

La soledad me consumía. Las inseguridades agobiaban mi mente. Donny volvía a casa cuando quería. Él esperaba que yo no hiciera preguntas. Cuanto más me aferraba a él, más me ignoraba como si fuera una niña abandonada.

​Una noche, parada en la ventana de la entrada de nuestro apartamento de dos pisos, observé a Donny irse tranquilamente. Sentí que mi corazón se había partido en dos.

​Él se detuvo por un momento, se giró y me miró con esa sonrisa suya de satisfacción. Su siniestra sonrisa detuvo y me heló la sangre, como si él hubiese girado lentamente un cuchillo enterrado en mí. Veía su expresión altiva, y me quemaba las entrañas.

​Pegué con el puño para darle en la cara.

¡Vidrio!

​El vidrio de la ventana se destrozó en un millón de pedazos.

​Un brillante fragmento del cristal de la ventana cortó la tierna carne de mi antebrazo, manchando mi piel con sangre carmesí. Mi puño solo había atravesado la ventana.

​Donny subió corriendo las escaleras y envolvió mi herida con una toalla mientras me reprendía por hacer una tontería descabellada. No me resistí. Aunque debió estar más preocupado por el interés que tenía en irse que en llevarme a la sala de emergencias para que me tomaran puntos de sutura, al menos se quedó en casa esa noche.

Extracto de capítulo 23 “Running In Heels: A Memoir of Grit and Grace” https://a.co/d/el1zxRM

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Filed under domestic abuse, Memoir