Diamond

Emotional abuse: any act of verbal assault, humiliation, intimidation or any other treatment which may diminish the sense of identity, dignity, and self-worth.

It’s the most common form of abuse but the most under-estimated. The only scar it leaves is inside you and you’re the only one who truly knows that it’s there. Because we can’t see it, we ignore it and it starts to fester, leaving us with a sensitive void that can easily swallow us whole. Physical wounds can be treated by bandages and salves, but you are the only one who can treat the wounds inside you. Therapists can only give you the tools but only you can do the surgery. I remember the night I finally went under the knife...

We walked into the grocery store and looked around for something familiar between the shelves filled with foreign text. We’d been in China for two weeks and so far, everything was running smoothly. I looked outside where my stepmother stood with my half-brother’s little hand in hers. It had been a year since I’d seen her, since I cut her out of my life, but I thought there was hope that I could let her back into my life without it falling apart again. I turned my attention back to the shelves and saw a bright blue box of Oreos. Oh, Oreos, I missed those.

I pulled the box off the shelf and slid it onto the counter. Then, I heard her… “She looks fine now but wait until she’s 23, then she’ll be huge.”

My brother glanced outside and exchanged a glance with my dad, but neither said anything. My dad paid for the snacks and we stepped outside in the cold. My stepmother looped her arm through his and they walked. Suddenly, I didn’t feel the cold. If she touched my skin, I’m sure her hand would have blistered. I was fuming but my fire had to be contained. People hurt me, but I can’t hurt back. Pain cripples me, if it’s my own or others’. Every time they fought it was my fault. Now I avoid causing tension like the plague. We walked back to the hotel in silence. Everyone heard but no one spoke. Does that mean she’s right?

“Let’s have some Coke in our room in a few minutes.” My dad smiled as I walked out of the elevator. I managed a small smile and nod. My stepmother looked around the hallway impatiently, not a single worry, a single regret. When I stepped into the room, I felt a change within me but when I looked in the mirror, I saw a change on the outside too.

Her words stuck to my skin like oil; thick and suffocating. Staring in the mirror I could see the grease on my skin, dripping off every curve extending further than desired. It made me felt sick. I turned to the side and watched every vile lump extending past the muscle. Moments before, I was beautiful, now under some spell, all I saw was fat clinging to my thighs like weights with hands tight around my throat. The memories swallowed me whole:

“Take those off before we leave, they look disgusting.” She sneered as she walked out of the front door to the car. I looked down at the cream Uggs covering my small legs with the denim shorts. When I put them on and looked in the mirror, I felt like a Viking; powerful, unstoppable. I looked at the door with narrow eyes and walked out to the car. My brothers sat beside me and my father started the car. Before long we parked outside the mall and opened the doors. I stepped out onto the tar and looked around. Suddenly I was met with cold blue eyes and goose-bumps rose over my skin. “I told you to take those off, how are we supposed to be seen with you now. You can’t walk with us looking like that.”

I heard every time she said I wasn’t enough echoing through my mind. I saw every time she looked at me with disgust. I felt the pain from every time she said that my life would be a failure.

When I blinked again, my reflection was in front of me. I look disgusting, who would want to be seen with me… I don’t want to see me. I felt sick to my stomach and I wanted to get rid of everything inside it. The toilet called to me, my finger itched to touch the back of my throat. A small voice whispered in the back of my head, ‘You weigh 60kg, if you don’t eat for a few days you can get down to 55kg, then you’ll be beautiful again.’ I was on my way to the toilet when I stopped. They’re expecting me, I can’t let them see any changes in me, they can’t see what this is doing to me. With a composing breath, I turned to the door and walked down the hallway to their room. The door stood inches from the frame and I pushed it open. My half-brother ran up to me with a cheeky smile, “Mom and dad are fighting again.” He chuckled. My heart sits in my throat and beats in my ears. I looked at my dad for a life-line but he just shook his head and stood up from the bed. My eyes trailed to my stepmother and she looked at me with thunderous eyes.

Like lightning, she leaped from the bed and struck the ground in front of me, “I was just trying to teach him why you shouldn’t eat sugar, anything else he said was just him being dramatic. I’m trying to be a good mother and raise my child but oh, no, now I messed up again. I’m not looking to stir up trouble, I was just trying to teach my seven-year-old son, but of course, I’m the villain again.” Her words beat down on me. I’m tearing this family apart… they fight and it’s my fault, it’s always my fault. I looked up into her eyes filled with tears then suddenly, a new voice whispered inside of me, “This woman is destroying herself… why are you letting her take you down with her?”

For years my therapists told me I was the victim, that she was being spiteful, that all those insults were lies… but I never fully believed them. They were on the outside, they could only do so much. Her abuse made a tumor inside of me and all they could do was dress it in salve. They helped the pain for a little while, but it would keep growing beneath my skin, poisoning my blood. That night I took the knife and cut the tumor off. When I went back into my hotel room, in the mirror I saw a beautiful, kind, confident girl. That girl in the mirror is my truest self and I let my stepmother make me blind to her. That girl has been within me all along hidden by the tumor. But how do I hold onto her, how do I fend off the tumors and treat my wounds when I can’t always see them?

This is my solution, my resolution: This year, whenever I am verbally assaulted, humiliated, intimidated or treated in any way that may diminish my sense of identity, dignity, and self-worth, I will stand up. She may try to make me bleed, but she will fail, because that little girl diminished to coal is now a diamond.

This year I will not bleed.