I know I'm not the only Anarcho-feminist (or punk or woman or lover or artist) who has stayed in an abusive relationship. I could give myself a million labels, but at the end of the day I'm just a damn human.
I know I'm not the only one, but that said its been an extremely isolating experience. My relationship has been very public, some of the abuse was very public. Throughout the past two years I would come up for air just to proclaim "I'm done! I'm finally through! No more for me." And then, with my tail in between my legs, I'd have to admit I'm back with him. My friends have been terrified for me, my ex lovers have been shocked and some people have even gone so far as to just tell me there "done with me." I literally escaped the state just so I could be with him and not feel those concerned glances, I turned my phone off for months so I wouldn't get any messages from my friends asking "where'd ya go Ashley?"
That's what happened. And its not happening today.
I refuse to allow the shame from this relationship dictate how I view myself. I've sat for days on end wondering "why me" "how me". C'mon, I'm a fucking feminist, I'm a fucking Anarchist, I've read Bell Hooks.
And you know what? Those questions get me nowhere. I'm not any less of an Anarchist or Feminist or women. I'm not weak because I did what I did, my politics do not mean less because I stayed in the relationship I did and I am most definitely not a defenseless victim.
Abuse is not singularly defined. It comes in many forms. The physical abuse ended a year ago, but even a year sans the really noteworthy and juicy events I was still in a very dry and sick relationship.
That's what I'm breaking free of today, I feel like I'm being lifted from a drunken stupor. I was terrified for 2 years of being without my ex. I thought I would be lonely, I thought I would never be loved again, I thought that I would loose the one man who really understood me. In all honesty I was severely hooked to this guy, addicted. And now that I've had a few weeks of withdrawal I finally feel like I've found myself again. I loved this man, we stayed with each other for way to long. And today its over. I'm not broken. I do have some work to do, some grieving to experience and some celebrating. I'm not going to fill this blog with the nasty stories or the self analyzing. But I want everyone reading this to know that it happens, shit happens, bad shit happens. Depression happens. Even to the best of us, even to the ones staffing those local infoshops and organizing protests. I talked and organized for years towards the ideals of creating a society from the broken one that lays. I made myself believe that I would appear weak if those around me really knew how much I was hurting. I thought it wouldn't be very "punk" to cry, it was easier to just say "fuck you" and run away. So I ran away from the community that I loved the most when I found myself unhappy and unable to connect with anyone. And I stayed away after I woke up and found myself as one of those "victims" we all read about. I never really was that 'victim' but social stigmas have an amazing way of infiltrating the deepest parts of our beings.
How can we build the society we dream of if at the end of the day were too scared to tell the ones constructing alongside us how we feel? What if we don't even know how we feel? Last summer I definitely did not, I was dissatisfied, I was a mess, but I was not ready to admit it. Were not robots. Society would love for us to be, but were not. We are intricate fucking creatures, with dreams and hopes and a lot of fear. Most of us are scared of each other. Most of us just want to be loved. Most of us just to want to safely love. And all of us make a lot of mistakes a long the way.
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