Upright.
Some days we’re on top of the world, other days we’re upright.
“At least today I’m upright”. I remember the first time that thought occurred to me. When you feel nothing but low and dark, but at the bare minimum you’re having a vertical day. You don’t start appreciating being upright until hours, and sometimes days have passed curled in the corner, the floor, or the bed.
My therapist says we actualize our fears when we act on them. We make our anxiety real with our choices. I can travel to the furthest corners of the world but sometimes can’t even bring myself to walk in to the restaurant next to my apartment. In fact, I still haven’t. But everyday is a work in progress. Today for instance, I walked into my apartment walked past every closet without opening it and didn’t peak behind my bedroom door as I turned the knob to enter. Today, I didn’t want to actualize the fear that anyone or anything was looming around the corner. I’ve been making the effort to fiercely protect my space but sometimes that means protecting it from me. Some days it’s bottling up my anxiety because the one person I deserve the most from is myself.
For three years I was in a relationship with a man where verbal and sometimes physical abuse was commonplace. Yet he’s the only person in this world that’s ever seen me curled in my corner. In all honesty, he’s the only person I’ve ever trusted to see me there, believed could help me get out. Our highs were high, but our lows were egregious. The worst person I’ve ever been was the person I was with him. I lost both comprehension and expectation of the possibility of love without pain. No matter how bad we argued or fought we somehow always found a way to make it work. The last year of our relationship I knew I needed to leave, God told me to go, but it took me a full 12 months to find the courage. The first time we ever got into a physical altercation, we were leaving a brunch, playing up all the couples goals until we got in the car. I don’t even remember what stemmed our disagreement but we were in my car, he was driving. I would speak and he’d blast the music over me, he’d turn it up, I’d turn it back down, rinse and repeat. I went to turn the music down once more and he grabbed my wrist. He tightened his grip and twisted my arm. I screamed for him to let me go, told him he was going to break my wrist. He wouldn’t let go. I struck him in the face, he grabbed me by the back of my neck smothered my face into his lap as we sat at the red light. Choking me I wailed, eventually he let go. I finally come up and can see neighboring cars who idley watched the entire incident. It isn’t the first time I learned how naturally people witness you physically suffer and do nothing.
My breaking point came almost two years later. On the way to an appointment that he was intentionally making me late for, he stopped the car in the middle of the driveway and stated he would not start the car again until I apologized. I said “sorry”. As I’m anxiously ready to go, he responds...“sorry for what?”. As if I was his child. The entire ordeal escalates and after an intense argument I walked back to the house, packed my belongings, and in rage tore down his closet. Hours later as I sat under the dryer in the hair salon he texts me, at this point, the storm had passed, or so I thought. I open his message and it’s the contact information of mental institutions saying he seriously feels I need to get professional help. He was the only person I trusted to ever see me in my corner. The person who often put me there. Who knew how hard it was for me to sometimes leave the house, attend social events, sometimes even struggle to hold a conversation with strangers and acquaintances. We would get home and he’d tell me how his friends hate me, how everyone thinks I’m a bitch and have horrible interpersonal skills. He knew how hard I tried and prayed to not let anxiety and panic attacks control my life and he knew what to say to cut me, and he would. Opening that text felt like a dagger through my chest. My trust and respect for him irrevocably damaged.
No, I certainly didn’t deserve the cruel low blows but I knew in my heart I needed help. I was in a spiral with anxiety, panic attacks, depression, I had no idea how I would ever get out. In May of 2018 I found the courage to leave and that was the first time I recognized the power of doing exactly as the Lord instructed. In April of 2019, God gave me a simple message, “trust Me”. I finally started therapy. I started taking baby steps every week to face my social anxiety through Krav Maga classes and Bible study. I learned the impact of how what we consume can alter our entire mindset, so I decided to only read literature that filled me up. I learned how to give myself grace and love. I discovered new depths of kindness and patience because I had to learn to be kind to myself and patient in my process.
I learned how to be alone, how to be my own biggest cheerleader. I went months without men, without distractions. I learned the power and truth of God’s words.
Some days I thrive, while others I’m just happy to be upright. The night God instructed me to simply trust him, I was face down on a hotel floor in Houston. Four months later I was on the peak of the motherland with a group of acquaintances who three years ago I would have panicked at the thought of even going to dinner with. No one could have ever guessed or planned this journey, He is the greatest author and orchestrator. In such a short time he changed my entire life. There’s nothing I knew arguing in that car three years ago that would indicate where I’d be right now. I couldn’t have guessed that this is how He would transform me. He chooses me every moment of everyday and loves me beyond the depths of the physical world.
All of God’s promises are coming and I’m thankful I have not been broken by neither the pain nor pressure. I have bent and cried and hollered out but here I am, still standing. Standing and eternally grateful, as today, if nothing else, I’m upright.
Tagged: Physical Abuse, Relationships, Emotional Abuse