Shutting Up

Last year, I tapered off from this blog because I was afraid of what would come of it in court. Nothing came of it in court. This blog was either irrelevant or the battle didn’t get nasty enough for his attorney to use it.

Or maybe there was nothing to be said about it. Will’s name isn’t here, my name isn’t here. I don’t push this blog onto our children. This blog, like it was always intended to be, is mine and mine alone.

The saddish part about it is that I didn’t recognize that fact. I worried that he would somehow take this piece of me away. Under the heaviness of that fear, I did like I so often did during our marriage: I shut up.

Then, miracle of miracles, new people came into my life. I didn’t know how to mention them on this blog. I didn’t care what Will thought, but I worried about what the new others thought.

In my encounters with the outside world, I learned that these new people watched my blog to see if they’d be mentioned. “What are you going to name me?” they asked. I didn’t mention them often, or I alluded to them vaguely. I didn’t want the new people to be privy to my thoughts about them. Writing this blog anonymously gave me a communication outlet I didn’t have in my marriage. I became accustomed to writing of Will without telling him what I thought about him first. I thought it was unfair to tell the new people what I was thinking without telling them first, and I simply didn’t know how to tell them!

In the marriage, I tried to tell Will what I thought, what I felt, but he didn’t (want to) hear. These new people were very interested in what I thought, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell them intimate things face to face. So, I shut up, and I carried quietness into my new relationships.

Fact is, newly separated from the abuser, I didn’t know how to communicate well with people I cared about. When we were face to face, I was afraid of saying the wrong thing, or blurting out an emotional statement I didn’t really mean.

I was learning to control myself. It was a scary process without Will’s rules to guide me.

Slowly but surely, I’m coming out of my shell. I am challenging myself to make this promise to everyone in my life: I may speak of you on my blog, but before I do, I will tell you what I think FIRST. I will use a fictitious name unless you tell me otherwise, but I won’t say if its your real name or not.

If you see it here, please know that I’ve done the hard work before posting. I’ve spoken to my friends, my lover, my sister, et al before it ends up on this blog.

This blog is mine and mine alone, and I will gladly face what other people think of me with fairness, but it may come off as a devil-may-care attitude.

At the beginning of next year, I plan to change my name to “Kellie Jo Holly” officially, and I won’t be anonymous anymore.

 

About Kellie Jo Holly

Kellie Jo Holly passionately advocates against domestic violence through her writing and mentoring service. She loves helping women cope with abuse while in the relationship and supporting them as they leave the relationship and begin to heal. You can also find Kellie on Google+, Facebook and Twitter. You can buy her books from Amazon.

Comments

  1. ErinJoi says:

    I love the picture. It sums up the whole blog post.

    Back at ya! :)

  2. First of all, I am going to make it quick because after reading you posts and some of the others I feel like the words are my very same thoughts! I wish I had found this blog YEARS ago. If you could see my amazon purchase list and kindle books you would see the amount of time and money I have spent trying to figure out if I was “crazy”.

    I am late 30s with two young boys in a very small town. My fictitious hope keeps leading me to another cycle of rage. I keep hoping something will stop him. I am keenly aware right now how much HE has stolen from me.

    I see the fog of despair and depression stealing my energy and time with my children. I sit near them as they play but my mind is gone… trying to stop this pain. I guess I am most ashamed of the fact that I am unloved. I am so ashamed that I was so difficult to love. I am depressed and angry that someone could treat me this way with no remorse… like I don’t matter at all. I resist fully breaking the silence and fear because I am just so damned afraid of what he will do. I am a stay at home mom and I am so fearful of what this will do, how I will make it, and mostly what it will do to my kids… I get the feeling that I should leave, but I just can’t believe that it is the “right” thing to do.

What do you think? Tell us!