Letters to Slimmy, Chapter 20

Three strikes, Slim, and I’m out. I got the bad news recently: things are “winding down.” You know what that means, don’t you? I lost…again…for the third and last time. There’s no point in holding on any more. Any kind of future full of hope and promise and happiness and joy is gone. Tears have permanently replaced smiles and laughter, and I’ve locked up my heart nice and tight, never to open it again. It seems I’d been right all along. I kept trying to convince myself what I was feeling was fear and panic and paranoia. That it was all in my head…just my imagination playing tricks on me. But it’s so much more than that, Slim, it’s reality coming to slap me upside the head and purge my subconscious from any delusions of things turning around. So I’m embracing reality. Fuck it, no more pretending. It is what it is and I just have to accept it. Easier said than done, I know, but what choice do I really have?

Letters to Slimmy, Chapter 19

Hey Slim,

Breathe in, breathe out. At times like these I have to remember to breathe in, breathe out. You know what I'm talking about. My mind is racing and my heart is pounding and I just have to remember to breathe. That one simple act seems to clear my head and slow my heart, so I try to quiet myself by locking myself in room and just breathing. I know this is something that isn't a necessity for you anymore, but I know you understand. Isn't it funny how I always turn to you since I have nowhere else to turn? I cry out for help and my prayers seem to wither away and die, so I turn to the one whose breath no longer exists. Sad, I know. But that's what life has turned out to be: sad. Sadness and misery, hopelessness and fear. I thought I was through with this all those years ago, but it seems there's a whole lot more of that in store for me. Each day I learn to accept it a little bit more, but that's not to say that isn't just as hard for me now as it was then. Total numbness is closing in. Maybe, just maybe, when that numbness sets in none of this will make my mind race or my heart pound. All I'll need to do is breathe.

Letters to Slimmy, Chapter 18

Well, Slim, as you can see the new year has started off really bad. Your wish has came true a thousand times over, while my prayers and pleas for help go unanswered. It hardly seems fair, you know. I have already suffered and endured a lifetime of misery and heartbreak, and still can't seem to catch a break. I can't help but wonder if this is some sort of joke. Laughter rings in my ears, but it's not me who's laughing. It's you, staring down at me, piercing a hole through my heart the size of the moon, laughing so hard the earth shakes. Tell me, Slim, what is it that I've done to deserve this? Have I been chosen to bear the sorrow of a hundred others, so that they may feel happiness? I'm kind of feeling like the proverbial lamb here, all good things that could be mine have been sacrificed for the sake of others. Why me? Should I hold on to faith, and keep hoping and praying? Will that do any good? I mean, it hasn't done any good so far so what's the point, right? I don't know, Slim, I'm just finding it so hard to simply believe in anything right now.

Letters to Slimmy, Chapter 17

Dear Slim,

I think I was given another "sign" last night, and I'm pretty sure I now fully understand what's in store. It's been my suspicion all along, but I never really wanted to believe it. I'm giving in, Slim. No longer will I believe that it's just my imagination or that I'm overreacting. Things have become much, much clearer. It's been a long, hard fight and I'm exhausted. I've been beat down, put down, and let down, and now there's nothing left for me to do but stay down. All hope is lost and I cannot rely on faith anymore. Determination used to be the driving force that kept me pushing on but I've lost that, too. I fold, Slimmy. I tried and tried but there's just no winning this battle. I am weak and I am spent. I will walk this long, dark, never ending tunnel alone, never again searching for the light at the end.

Love,
J

Precious Pain

Everybody's got a hunger
No matter where they are
Everybody clings to their own fear
Everybody hides some scar

Precious pain
Empty and cold but it keeps me alive
I gave it my soul so that I could survive
Keeping me safe in these chains
Precious pain

Everybody's got a reason
To abandon their plan
How can I think of tomorrow
With my sorrow in hand

Precious pain
Empty and cold but it keeps me alive
I gave it my soul so that I could survive
Keeping me safe in these chains
Precious pain

Each road that I walk down
Reminds me of you
This whole town is haunted
There'll never be anything new

Precious pain
Empty and cold but it keeps me alive
I gave it my soul so that I could survive
Keeping me safe in these chains
Precious pain

-Melissa Etheridge, "Precious Pain"

Letters to Slimmy, Chapter 16

Hey Slim.
I am so, so tired.
I'm tired of arrogant, self-centered people.
I'm tired of hearing about others' good fortune and not being able to tell of my own.
I'm tired of not having good fortune of my own.
I'm tired of being lonely.
I'm tired of being alone.
I'm tired of being ugly.
I'm tired of not being able to pursue MY passion.
I'm tired of having to deal with the daily stress.
I'm tired of being a single parent.
I'm tired of the lack of support.
I'm tired of feeling like I don't belong. Anywhere.
I'm tired of not being good enough.
I'm tired of the sorrow and sadness.
I'm tired of the tears.
I'm tired of pretending that everything's fine.
I'm tired of living in this two bit town.
I'm tired of loving those who don't reciprocate.
I'm tired of thinking life will get better.
I'm tired of having too much to do and too little time to do it all.
I'm tired of hoping, and dreaming, and praying, and wishing.
I'm tired of hanging on.

J

Hear My Voice

I am a survivor of domestic abuse and have told my story here. When I first stumbled upon Violence UnSilenced and read through the stories of those survivors brave enough to tell them, I felt inspired to reveal my secret and tell my story as well. It took me months to put the story into words. I kept rethinking what I was writing and couldn’t decide which parts I wanted to keep in and which I wanted left out. After finally finishing my draft, I then struggled for many more months with whether or not I actually wanted to submit my story. After all, it was something I held in for years, never telling anyone because I felt ashamed and embarrassed. So I went back to the site and read the stories of other survivors over and over again, and decided that I wanted to be just as courageous as them. I wanted to stand up and say “I have a story, too.” So this is it. My secret, my story.