Laboring to Love an Abusive Mate

He is not God. You are not Jesus. Your children, disciples. Following after whatever example you are providing. What you do with your life relevant, how you choose to live it...important. Abuser, irrelevant. Advisers don't want to hear about what he thinks, what she will do... what they want to know is, what will you do? Band-aids don't heal wounds. Compliments don't erase pain. Expensive gifts don't solve problems. Trips around the world don't make a partner love. Pain and more pain is all the victim ever gets. Pain and more pain is all the abuser gives. Nicholl McGuire

Laboring to Love an Abusive Mate , Poem: Who are You? http://share.myflare.com/vC5n4W

Childhood Triggers  was written based on true events.  This poem expresses the author's pain, shame, and other challenges as a result of growing up around a controlling relative.  History has a way of repeating itself if one's inner demons are never purged.

Who said love doesn't hurt, wound, scar? A person who has permitted a loved one to go too far. She could have ran, but stayed with a man who kicked her around like a dented tin can. His past he shared with her, covered up pain with a fur. Twisted thoughts, lost hope, she had found ways to cope. The young woman remembered when, trapped she was in dark sin. "What did I get myself into?" She took a moment to ask. While he told her get to work on yet another meaningless task. The martyr for all who came before She. He hit her for what his dad didn't do. Pushed her for what his mom put him through. Choked her for what the grandparents knew. Tripped her for those who lived life the best. Smothered her for passing yet another test. All bad memories were supposed to fade away, because of a special couple's love holiday. He told her he loved her so very much, but she flinched everytime he reached out to touch. He would say anything to keep from

Cursed me out the other day, he had a lot to say somehow I was blamed for everything including the bathtub's dirty ring. He says, "You need to clean up, get off your lazy butt!" I told him, "I wish your mouth would stay shut!" That's when he got up in my face and told me, "Stay in your place!" I had lost it, went to the closet... took his stuff out, and told him, "Get out!" Tired of the name-calling and swearing. Tired of looking at him and caring... "What does he think about this and that and am I really getting fat?" But he tells me he loves me and can't we work some things out. He says so many nice things after I tell him, "Just get out!" Then I say, "Okay, what more do you need to say?" Then he says, "You remember our wedding day." Looking at him, my face still grim, thinking, "Why the f&*k do I still love him?" Pain, gain, pain gain, feel like my head

Thought she had everything figured out went to church and gave a shout. Moved on with life and felt real good until something inside said, "I wish we would..." Went against all sound advice, went back to her old vice. Couldn't face the fact she failed, a new life she had derailed. Needed things to go right, wasn't ready to see the light. "If the relationship was going to make it," she reasoned, "I had best be ready and seasoned." So she decorated her lost self, made gifts like Santa's little elf. For him, she cooked, cleaned, and gleamed, while things didn't appear like what they seemed. He was happy as long as she didn't change, so she stayed in his view, his controlling range. But one day she had her own thought, she only did as she was taught. Had been to a higher institution of learning, but at times she wasn't all that discerning. Her man wasn't supportive of who she was, and all those thin

Days He abides by the man's rule. Evenings he seeks to regain his authority. She greets him. The woman he shaped, he molded, he scolded. His head slowly bends down and she waits for the king to respond, but he is quiet. She takes her cue and shies away his meal is cooked his dishes are washed his clothes are clean and put away his bills are paid his castle is kept like her. College-educated, employed and beautiful, but her bed has been made. Innocence given away to him for keeps -- it wasn't his sweet little pussy cat who purred at each and every contact; instead it was her self-esteem self-pride, self-love that had been captured. Everything about her was wrong and he reminded her that she had to choose for he knew what was best -- he was wiser. The parties, the boys, the toys they had to stop. He stressed they weren't good for someone so special. And it wasn't for long before a slap would follow a sorry, a punch would follow a beg, between thrown clothes and luggage be

I give you no ammunition to use against me! Nothing to allow you to destroy my heart! No stray bullets to attempt to blow my mind! No gunpowder to leave on my soul! You are hollow! Like the barrel of your gun, you pull your trigger and then your done! You are an assassin and I'm the president proudly serving your country. Nicholl McGuire Domestic violence survivor and author of Laboring to Love an Abusive Mate http://nichollmcguire.blogspot.com

What lures a woman to go to the other side of the tunnel -- alone. In the dark amongst the shadows and screeching screams from afar. What is it that her soul searches for? Is curiosity that strong to commit suicide... Is man really worth it? Nicholl McGuire http://nichollmcguire.blogspot.com