truth, always

*This was originally posted to Openminded Flame, a previous blog on November 18 2018

It’s November again. It’s 2018 now. I’m healing, I’m letting go. My relationship with J has ended, I feel free.

My freedom is not from him, or from his family. Both of whom distanced themselves from me leading to an eventual estrangement and disowning; ceasing contact and trading any sort of amicable politeness for antagonizing comments. It is from my trauma, I’m finally in a place where I can fully heal. I’d been healing the wounds from the inside for so long, it’s incredibly beautiful to be on the other side. I can move forward now, and truly process. From that, true growth.

I tried to do what I thought was right. I feel content, happy, in my decision to remove myself from his life and the lives of those who would rather me say nothing. I recognize the complicity of the people in my life, both current and past. Their complicity is theirs to process, and I have made the decision to remove myself from the lives of the people who will not even take the steps to admit their complicity.

There are things that happen in plain sight. That is where the complicity lies. A lot of the mistreatment I suffered was disguised as parenting. I was simply seen as an overly sensitive child. I was not seen as a child that was told to kill herself, or to try harder when an attempt failed. I was not seen as a child told “if we get a divorce, it’s your fault”. I was not seen as the child whose sexuality was outed. I was not seen as the child who was threatened with mental institutions and military schools on a constant basis. The child whose mental health was ridiculed and punished. The person who was told that her purpose in his house was to serve him (06/15/16 recording, attached below). He created the narrative around me in the family, and controlled it. He split me into two; “Nice Kim” and “Not-Nice Kim”. When I spoke up, I was “not nice”. When I was sad, or frustrated, or angry, I was “Not-Nice Kim”. The wildly hurtful and inappropriate things he said, like being called a dyke, were suddenly justified. Because I was not acting like “Nice Kim”, he could say and do whatever he wanted. And when my mental health was at its worst, I was “crazy”.

At some point in my childhood I stopped trying to fight him. I only tried to protect myself from his insults and the constant fighting. When I went to therapy, I talked through how he was making me feel, and learned how to shut down myself in order to be safe. Until I could have a real healing process.

This is a healing process not only for me, but for my family. I may be the only one this man hurt physically, but I was not the only person he was manipulating, and abusing. I’m the only one in my family, so far, that has truly spoken up against him, and that’s okay. This healing has taught me to meet people where they are with their own healing. My healing, my openness to talk about the truth, my need to acknowledge the truth is something that I am ready to do. That isn’t true for everyone that needs to heal from this. At times, I am the only one in the space of my healing that’s ready for the actions I’m ready for. That’s okay. People heal in their own time.

I refuse to sweep this under the rug. I refuse to absolve him of his crimes against me and my family. He is neither remorseful nor repentant, and he flat out refuses to take full responsibility for his actions. He rarely admits that he’s done anything wrong. His manipulation, his theft, his violences against us are things I will not be silent about.

As much as he may think so, he is not the most important or significant thing to ever happen to me. He did not “save” me. He did not “rescue” me. He assisted in raising me, providing for me. He used the kindness of his actions to guilt me into submission. He made me fearful of him, working hard to intimidate me into silence. Even more so when I indicated that I was unhappy with the way he was talking to me, and treating me.

I do not trust him, in any capacity. He was the biggest monster in my life but I am not afraid of him anymore. He no longer has any power over me, or my feelings. I have taken the power back by telling my truth. To everyone, including him.

I had dinner with him on January 29 2018. That was the last full conversation we had. Over dinner, we discussed our relationship and I said exactly what I need from him in order to have a relationship. Not only did he refuse to admit any wrongdoing, he continued to try and blame everything on me. He repeatedly sidestepped my direct questions, and insisted that I was at fault. It was in the last 15 minutes of that dinner (attached below) did he even vaguely acknowledge that he physically hurt me. I left after he recommended that I see my therapist. He tried to guilt me, at the end of our conversation. He tried to use my tears against me, and stopped me from leaving each time I tried to get up. I tried to leave after he asked me to reflect on myself- and see if I was just making things up. I spent so much of the meal crying, and when I mentioned any physical abuse he told me to lower my voice.

I went to that dinner with my last hopes in my heart. I wanted a relationship, a healthy relationship with the man who raised me. The man who claimed to love me and my family. I left heartbroken, but not at all surprised. This is a man that has held a knife toward me in order to intimidate me. This is a man that has threatened to call the police and tell them that there was a black trespasser in his home (where we both lived full-time). All in one summer. This is a man that I have never expected truth from, and that dinner confirmed every single thought I had. He was going to hurt me again if I let him, so it was time to remove myself.

I never planned on seeing him again. Ever. At the request of my grandmother, I met with him. We were only supposed to meet briefly so he could give me a key. I did not want to see him, but I wasn’t afraid or anxious. It was the first time I hadn’t felt anything when it came to being in that man’s presence.

Our final conversation came on July 8 2018, when he berated me on a street corner, saying horrific things. I admit to losing my temper, and when he stepped towards me, I asked him if he was going to hit me like the last time. The scene he made was surreal to watch, and it showed me how truly sick he is. He was doing everything in his power to try and regain the power he once felt over me. He was screaming at me, saying horrible things about my grandmother and sister. As I walked away, he continued to yell at me, until I was at least halfway down the street.

The formal end to our relationship comes now. He received an email that has taken me months to write. This moment right now, here, is for everyone else. For his supporters, here is his truth. The summer of 2016 granted me 31 recordings of conversations between the two of us. He has received all of them, so he may hear the words from his own mouth.

He insisted that I think about letting go and moving on. That’s what I’ve done. That’s what I’m doing. I can tell you what I told him, and take one more step toward healing.