As a domestic violence survivor, I have learned to embrace all that I am, on both my best and worst day. I am flawed and imperfect and scarred. There are aspects of both my personality and physical appearance that I wish I could change. But after being knocked to my knees more than a few times, I now exude a sense of humility that reminds me it’s okay to not be perfect, no matter what my inner perfectionist says.
Today, I am the first to laugh at myself when necessary or admit that I am wrong, which enables me to say those three dreaded words, “I am sorry.” As all woman are, I can be so unnecessarily hard and unforgiving of myself. There truly is no need to be concerned with others when all I have to do is look into a mirror to see an enemy.
After falling into a dark depression induced by deep heartache and betrayal, I have discovered that forgiveness is freeing.
Being a good person does not always ensure that good things will happen. Life has handed me one mountain after another to climb and it seems at the most inopportune moments disaster has struck, knocking me back down to my knees with such inhumane force.
But those weak moments have defined who I have become. Compassion and forgiveness was not always returned, but I gave it anyway. Today, my ex and I are able to effectively co-parent, and the effects of this can be seen in our boys’ now-smiling faces.
As a young girl, the encouragement from my parents encouraged me to believe that I could achieve anything a man can, even in a male-dominated household and world, without losing what it means to be a woman.
And I set out to prove just that. I climbed trees in smocked dresses and was the only of my siblings – three brothers – to compete in collegiate sports.
Sometime during my 30s, I learned to embrace all that makes me a woman with innate softness and compassion. However, my inner voices continued to tell me that I wasn’t doing enough, that I needed to work harder to accomplish success in my career while fulfilling all of my roles as a mother.
But finding that perfect balance is hard, it always feels as though one begins to slightly slip when the other succeeds. And the guilt inside of me won every time, causing me to sacrifice a piece of myself for my family.
Today I am grateful to have a partner who supports my professional drive. I don’t hesitate to ask him to pick up the slack from time to time, and doing so doesn’t make me less of a woman or mother.
Through the guidance of my mother, I understood that a boy wasn’t worth dating in high school if he didn’t respect my innocence.
Having high morals and standing up for what a woman believes in should never be compromised by settling for anything less, whether it’s about virginity or anything else. I’m thankful for these lessons that my mother instilled, because of them I am not afraid to be myself.
And despite a great deal of loss and disappointment, I have maintained my optimism in others, myself, and in love. Over the years, people I loved dearly let me down. My marriage of nearly 20 years had failed, and for a while I stopped believing that I would ever find myself or real love – a love that was kind and didn’t hurt. Life has had a way of blinding me while in the depths of its turbulent storms.
But once I made it through, I found the sun to be shining ever so brightly, in the face of a man named James.
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