Mama. If you’re reading this, it’s really okay please don’t cry.
I recently got new scars on my kneecaps from something dumb. I’ll explain.
I was carrying out my sister’s baby swing to her car at my parents house. They have a normal front door with one of those concrete steps leading right up to it. As I was headed to the car I lost my footing and all my gracefulness, I landed straight on both my kneecaps. Many can attest to this that I’m not the most graceful of “fallers” (if that’s even a word) so if you can imagine, kneecaps to concrete left a pretty decent size gash on each one.
This is the gut wrenching part.
I’ve hinted here and there at the mental “abuse” you’d call my relationship years ago.
What I don’t talk about is how it got physical at times. I could take when he would jiggle the little part of my belly that every woman seems to have and can’t get rid of. You ladies know exactly the part I’m talking about. The making fun of, the hate speech and such he’d spew out was a walk in the park. (It’s not a pretty park with sunsets and swings but you understand what I’m getting at.) One time over an argument that I don’t even remember what it was about anymore, he drug me. Literally grabbed by the hair and drug a couple feet. But being who I am, I fought back and of course gave myself rug burn on both my kneecaps. They left scars.
I don’t remember what lie I told everyone when they saw them. I do remember it was summertime and it was hot so of course shorts were the only way to go. Make up may hide bruises but it sure doesn’t cover up opened skin.
I definitely don’t remember what the rest of the night entailed. I assume no words were said and I just sucked it up, and pretended like it didn’t happen. My parents have told me that when I was a little kid and would cry about eating dinner and such I would always say “I’m sucking it up.” It personally makes me laugh when I hear that because I’m really good at it even to this day. I sucked it up here too.
I guess I’ve never wanted to share this part of my story because there’s people out there who’ve suffered actual abuse and torture both mental and physical. I didn’t think mine was enough to share.. Gut-wrenching right? Being drug in your own home wasn’t enough? I also think I’ve never shared this, (I’ve never even told my best friend the whole story) because it’s embarrassing. I get embarrassed that girls and women have always said they’ve looked up to me. “Uh why?” I always say to myself. It’s taken me two years to write about one of the weakest moments in my life, why on Earth would someone want to look up to that? To me? I would never want some of my baby girls at the preschool to know about these moments. I guess everyone has those moments though, the ones we don’t want to tell our kids about…
I cannot tell you how thankful I am for these new scars.
I personally think kneecaps are weird and ugly so it’s not that I care about them particularly, just the fact that that particular story is hidden and over. There’s a wish that I would’ve said something earlier so that it could leave my mind but everything has a time and place. Please no one cry when they read this. My last intention for writing this was for someone to feel sorry about the situation. I got out, most girls don’t. Some we read as a headline when we scroll past it on our lunch breaks. I think about those who are stuck often.
Sharing this not only does it do something for me-
“Finally I can let one of my biggest secrets go!” -but the hope is, it actually gives someone hope. There’s no reason for anyone to feel like an uninvited guest in their own home. Also no reason you have to stay.
Thanks for reading.
Kneecaps To Concrete Survivor