Skip to main content

the first time

The first time.
It was not what I expected. I mean, if anyone really has an expectation of what it might be like. I was aware that the day would come. I was naive, but I also saw the signs. It was a progression of events. Events leading up to that time.
The first time.
So many feelings, so many emotions rushing through me. Disbelief. Mistrust. Sadness. Anger. Defeat. Brokenness. Had that really just happened? Did the man I love just hit me? 
The first time.
It was just the first of many more times. Always with the same results. I apologized. I changed. I took responsibility. He felt justified.
The first time.
Today's Sherri would love to go back to that day and tell that Sherri, "You are smart, and beautiful, and worthy. You deserve to be treated as such. You cannot save him. You can only save yourself. Believe in yourself. Love yourself. Walk away now. This will not be the only time, this will just be the first time."


************************************************************************************
There are many reasons why I chose to stay for four years in an abusive relationship. I blame no one, not even him. I made decisions based on who I was at that time. Looking back, they may not have been the best decisions, but it's impossible to change them now. They made me who I am today. Even though this is a part of my past that few know about, it played a big part in shaping the Sherri that you know now - both in bad and good ways. Life is full of lessons, and when I finally had the courage to leave that situation for good, I had learned a lot. I try hard to find the good in everything. I refuse to believe that that period of my life was all bad. It wasn't. I made friends during that time that I still have. I learned. I loved. I grew. I changed. And I stayed the same.

~~ I'm hoping that I've made it clear enough, but in case I didn't : This is about my past. This is not about the man I love now.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

and the honor goes to...part 1

This will be a series of posts in which I honor people who have made an impact in my life, both in my past and in my present. I am blessed to still have some of these people in my life; others have left this life for their next one; others are no longer a part of my close circle, yet still made a difference to me. I want to share them with you. I want to honor them. I want them to know how much I love and respect them. The first one is dedicated to my childhood babysitter, Pat B. Growing up, both of my parents worked. This meant that my sister and I went to a babysitter when we were younger. We had a few, but the one that we spent the most time with, and that I remember the most, lived right up the road from us. We were actually neighbors, but being in the country, that meant a cornfield separated us. I recall being there when I was in kindergarten until I was old enough to stay by myself, probably around 12 or 13. I love to reminisce about my time there. It was my home away from ...
5 comments
Read more

no more hiding

I first published this in May of 2013. A lot has changed in that time. A lot has stayed the same. There are updates at the end of this post. One of my daughters is on a daily SSRI (selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor) or, in layman's terms, an antidepressant. She was diagnosed with the main dish of Anxiety Disorder, with a side of depression. I can joke about it now - and she can too - but it hasn't always been that way. . We first encountered it years ago. At the time we sought church-based counseling but nothing else in the way of help for her. She was so young that I just couldn't imagine putting her on a medication. I had a hard time even accepting that she might have a mental disorder. We got through that time - barely - and went on without it rearing its head again. But when it resurfaced three years ago, it did so with a vengeance. This time, I was better equipped myself to deal with it. There was no hesitation. We immediately saw a doctor, got a prescrip...
2 comments
Read more

the deconstruction of my life and other not-so-fun moments : patriachy, britney, and finding my voice

    **I don't know Britney Spears, why she did the things she did, or what her life was like growing up. These are just thoughts about my life, my assumptions of hers, and how the church is the one thread that weaves its way through both our lives.      Britney and I were both raised in church. Certain beliefs were instilled in us, even if only in subliminal ways (again, I don't actually know her life). Be a good girl, good daughter, good christian, good wife. The man/husband/father is the head of the home. What he says goes. What we want or have to say isn't important, our voice isn't important. Women, like children, are to be seen, not heard. Even while rising to her stardom, I'm sure these thoughts were always a part of her. The world may have been watching her, judging her, but more importantly, god (man) was watching and isn't he the ultimate judge?  be a good girl For years, Britney has used her voice in ways that entertained the masses. She used her ...
Post a Comment
Read more