V is for Victory

V is for victory

V is for victim

This weekend I am both. I have accomplished victim my entire life. I am a victim of emotional abuse by my parents and my sisters, a perfect triangle tip on which to balance my life. I fall one way, then the other, it’s a win for them every time. I’ve fallen victim to nuanced targeting of guilt, shame, and apathy at the dinner table, in the car, through text messages, Facebook, anywhere the family united. I get it. It’s a power play for them. Power is found everywhere. Especially in scaffolded towers of denial.

It took me 42 years to finally get it. The subtleties of its form are hidden in context crafted to appear caring, thoughtful, nice. Heightened sweet talk is my cue. “Honey,…” is the trigger to the gun pointing at my head. “Honey, you’re overreacting.” is the bullet.

How many times have I pulled that trigger? Over and over. I’ve ceded the power to the sweet talkers, the caring, the nice far too long. As a child it was inexplicable questioning why my life was so hard.

I am humiliated to confess to you it took over four decades to recognize this manipulative mind-game. The danger of emotional abuse is that unless it’s stopped by the victim, the dirt road will continue.

I crossed the road. I named it. I illustrated it. I demanded no contact until the gun is taken to the factory for repairs. I am worth it.

V is for victim

V is for victory