Growling at Love

Edele was abusive when she was alone with us.

In public, she was wonderful, charming, sweet, loving, kind, full of energy.
That was a performance.
A mask.

When we’re in the world, we all perform.
And performing is exhausting.
The relief comes when we get in our cars at the end of the day when we step out of the shower and into sweats.
when we return to ourselves without apology…
To our core.

I have a theory.
Not one that excuses her abuse, but rather softens the label of ‘villain’ that we so freely dole out.

What if that core, the place of relief, was taken from her?

I mean….part of mine was taken from me.
I endured enough pain that I still struggle to know who I am,
Where I rage and abuse those that just want to love me. 

What if she was hurt so badly that rage is the only self she had left?
What if that is her core?

I never saw her cry.
Never saw relief.
Never saw fear, or softness, or collapse.
It was all an act,
And what if the act continued
even when she was abusing us?
Because she had no choice. She knew nothing else because she was shown nothing else.
Ever.

The thought of someone existing without ever feeling safe enough to rest makes me deeply sad.
To live a life where the only mask that can ever come off
reveals someone who is just trying to survive.

Like a caged dog in a corner, growling at everyone
not because it is evil,
but because it learned pain
before it ever learned safety.

And what if it never learned safety at all?
Like I did.

And that is how it lives.
Without ever knowing, being shown, or believing that love and softness exists.
So much so, that the only time it gets to relax, and truly let go is when it’s gone. 

That makes me fucking ache.