Strand of Pearls #DomesticViolence

Strand of Pearls #DomesticViolence

strand-of-pearls-recounting-of-domestic-violenceIn her memoir, Strand of Pearls, Deborah Livingston recounts her journey from childhood abuse, frequent tragedy and adult addiction to a spiritual transformation that brought her an inner peace and joy available to us all. Her misfortunes early in life and her inability to see them as the “pearls” they actually were led to serious addiction in her early forties. And yet this addiction saved her life, preparing her for the inner transformation she would experience.

One thought on “Strand of Pearls #DomesticViolence”

  1. I Married a Killer

    I married a killer. Before I continue, let me reitterrate the first part of the sentence. I MARRIED. First person action words. For those of you who tell me what happened is not my fault, please refer back to those two words because they are what keep killing me. You can tell me I am a victim all you want. If that is true then I let it happen. I married someone I loved so much that I forgot who I was. I have known for too long what I have allowed to happen and it makes me sick with guilt and grief to the point of unbearable sorrow. The person I was in 2000 died a very long time ago and the person I am now is dispicably pathetic. I am just a shell. A reminder on the outside of someone dead and gone. All that is left of my soul is the part that suffers and will continue to suffer in Hell forever. Everyone turned their back on me. Even God has no more mercy left. But the devil is dancing on my grave. It would be easier to be dead. But for some reason I continue to live to see the horrors I have allowed to happen.

    With this said, I want to let all of you women out there know what this kind of person is capable of. The man who can work every crowd and charm everyone. The man that every woman thinks they want and desire. Watch out…because that man sold his soul to the devil. I didn’t notice it in the beginning, but if you look closely you can see the devil laughing right through his eyes. Once you open your heart you have already sealed your fate. He preys on the kind hearted. The compassionate. The optimistic. The strong minded and the one who thinks they have it all together. And he slowly devouers every good thing about you until you despise yourself. Until you start doing things that are in no way like you. Until you cut yourself up, you hear voices in your head, and all you can think about is stopping the unbearable pain. You look in the mirror and don’t recognize that person looking back at you. Eventually you will stop looking in the mirror. He takes pride in breaking people. He actually keeps a list. Yes…a written list.

    The physical abuse is nothing. Honestly, I barely remember the disgusting bruises that have healed. It’s the mental and emotional abuse that leave the biggest gaping scars that are invisible on the outside but are constantly gushing blood on the inside. Until you feel like you have bled to death. But you keep bleeding. Nothing helps. Drinking, drugs, psych meds, cutting, crying… nothing stops the unbearable pain. Over time those reactions start to dwindle off and you become angry. Full of rage and hate. You become like him. Homicidal. Uncontrollable. Dispicable.

    Everyone says that good always conquers evil. I don’t believe that anymore. I hardly ever shed tears anymore. I’ve cried rivers to no avail. Those tears will get you nowhere. The hole that you dug yourself by being with this man is so dark that you will never see light again. You will see darkness and pain and sorrow all the days of the rest of your life even if you get away. Once I got away I had been dead for a long time. Institutionalized so many times I dare not count. There is no end to the suffering. The person that walks away is just a hollow, self destructing vessel that begs for death every day. This is not a broken heart I am talking about. This is a soul that has been murdered. Stabbed to death. Beaten to death. Raped to death. Humiliated to death. You tell me I’m feeling sorry for myself. I laugh in your face. I spit in your face. Nobody desires this for themselves. And it will live on in the generation I have so stupidly produced. I see him teaching these same sadistic traits to our son. A poor child who idolizes his dad is going to become him. An innocent child who’s soul has no chance…and I brought him into this world. I hate myself. No matter how hard I try to prevent the inevitable, I always get kicked in the teeth.

    I hope that somehow I can reach just one woman before I die. To make a mark in some way. To do some kind of good for someone somewhere. I don’t want all this pain and suffering to die with me without making a mark on someone. Preventing just one soul from this torture. I don’t want to die being known as some pathetic, weak minded woman. Because that is not at all who I was. I was. I was. There is no bringing back that person. All I can do is keep trying to survive. But I am quickly drowning. I beg death.

    So, just let me ask you…will society still ignore emotional and mental abuse? Yes, of course, because there is no cure. They will keep smiling at and accepting this calculating, charming, good looking, soul killing murderer. Until that is what society is. Till he has killed every soul beyond reckoning. And then he will sit back on the throne you have given him and laugh while the world burns into Hell. All that will be seen in the end is that glint in his eye. That glint is the devil laughing in your face. And all of you are laughing with him because you failed to see what was happening right in front of your face. Ignorance is not bliss people. Wake up and recognize that there is a new kind of murder. This is the kind of murderer that always gets away and has the last laugh. Always. Because you are too ignorant to see that you are letting the devil dance on your own demise. Because you grab his hand and laugh with him.

    2 Corinthians 5:10
    For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each of us may receive what is due us for the things done in the body, whether good or bad.

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