Abusive relationships are the things you can't see. |
Guilt is something he refuses to swallow and, well, I'm that guilt. He refuses to actually look at me-- the only time I see him look at me is when his sweaty palms tug on my neck. Which is funny because I would much rather feel his palms wring my neck than the back of his hand against my cheek. It's a lot easier to hide the vibrant colors of purple and green on a neck with a high collared shirt versus a black ring for an eye. I don't get questioned at church for my turtlenecks, the minister and the Christian mothers just assume I'm filling my role of a modest church goer. But sunglasses don't fly in a church society. They believe you are either hiding from God or you are the one single woman who had a little too much to drink the night before and is here to cleanse for her sins. I happen to be neither. I am not single but I am alone here in this church. It's not Sunday but I am praying along with the Weeping Man in the back pew. I'm pretty sure he lost his wife years ago. I don't think crying in church every day is going to help, in fact it will most likely make his life even more depressing. But I see a lot of the Weeping Man. We always come to church and enjoy the view of giant Jesus Christ on a cross. I wouldn't call him an acquaintance but I can't refer to him as a friend either-- to me he will always be the Weeping Man. I pray a lot, but I'm never very consistent. Sometimes I pray He puts me out of my misery like a farmer shoots a sick dog. Sometimes I pray He will take the both of us so I no longer have to suffer and he can't make another woman suffer ever again. Then sometimes I pray God gives me the courage and the strength to run. Run as far as I can go and never look back, but it's hard to run with your hands tied behind your back and your feet looped together. I’m like a 1992 Buick Regal after eight inches of fresh fallen snow. I'm like a freshman taking their first high school math test. I'm like a size six ring on a size seven finger. I'm like popcorn kernels, lodged in between the brackets of braces. I am a woman who is stuck in an abusive relationship. |