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In my last post I spoke of a woman,
who like so many abused women, settles for crumbs from the banquet of
life, because she does not really believe that there is a banquet out
there.
One reader emailed me to disagree with my
viewpoint. I was, she felt, too harsh in my judgements. She had
reached the stage (still a way short of rock bottom) of accepting that
she was a miserable person to be around. Hence her partner could not be
blamed for expressing his distaste for her. In other words, the process
of emotional pulverization was so far advanced that she had lost sight
of all that he had said and done to reduce her to that
state.
I can remember feeling like that also, and
challenging the few people who were concerned enough to tell me my
relationship was toxic. (It undoubtedly was.) But I had to believe in
something.
When you can’t believe in yourself, you
end up clutching at the nearest thing that looks halfway solid. That
thing is most usually your abusive partner.
My reader ended her email with these
words:
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