24. 05. 2021
I don’t know what I’m feeling today. I’ve been in this city for 10 days now. I imagined a freeing feeling walking down the streets. Yet, every time that feeling kicks in, another wave of emotion takes over. An unfamiliar one. It’s as if the feelings I was avoiding in Oslo somehow have caught up, but not in the way I was expecting them to. I’m not unhappy or sad, yet not completely happy either. I’m usually so in touch with my emotions, that this uncertainty is eating me up alive. What’s wrong? You are here, as you wanted to be. What’s the problem?
It almost feels too easy. The number of times I’ve thought that I finally made it out. Out of my family, out of the city that keeps all my triggers, out of my torturous shell. I guess that explains why I don’t understand what I’m feeling. Never have I ever truly felt free. You can be physically free from someone yet be mentally kept somehow. I can feel my mother punch me directly in the face in the most random situations that in no way trigger those feelings. It’s like she’s had her little magical button, that she could press at any time to torture me. Like a secret pathway directly to my scars. Which would make sense as she is the one that created them. If abuser-privilege check was a thing on TikTok my mom would win for sure. She literally created me. She knows all of my weak points. It’s like going to war against someone who has been spying on you for 24 years, you don’t stand a chance.
I feel so stupid for all of the times I would seek comfort from her, unaware that she was the puppetmaster herself. When her usual weapons were no longer cutting and hurting to the degree they used to, she turned my sisters to her weapons. Forcing them into a moral dilemma that a child should never have. Either to receive more pain or inflict it on your sisters. We all chose differently which ensured that none of us would have the sibling relationship that we would need to call out my mom on her bullshit. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the ones who chose to inflict pain are the ones with the most understanding for our mother. They recycled her excuses and used them to justify their own behavior.
This was just one of the many tactics she would use to ensure chaos in our family. Although I caught the physical abuse at an early age, it took years for me to unmask these hidden tactics one by one. Yet, somehow I could overlook a lot of them. The biggest way to manipulate someone who is leaving into staying is by giving the illusion that certain behavior has been changed. Thus, the decrease in my mother’s violent behavior made me think she was no longer that big of a problem. It was naive of me to think she wouldn’t be able to emotionally manipulate me. Because she manipulated me to stay for all these years.
God needed to put my life on the line for me to understand how dangerous my family truly can be. Because that’s when the same instincts that kicked in when I was 10, came alive again. Once they did, I was already out. This time both physically and emotionally. So I guess that’s what I’m feeling… A mix between relief and grief.