Soul Conversations #healthruwriting

 I allowed a man to reduce me to feeling like I was the most unattractive, disgusting, unworthy woman in the world. And the way I felt inside showed up in everything I put my hands on. I needed to detox more than ever. The very men I have been escaping since childhood, I ended up with a version of them in every relationship. The ones whose mother broke him so well he would never be fit for a woman. She emotionally abandoned him, leaving him for us to deal with his detachments. She ruined him and continues to by not holding him accountable. When will enough be enough? They are so holy, yet they assist with destroying every woman their son brings home. If she can control you, you will be well-liked, but the moment you do not stand for her toxic, patriarchal, manipulative bullshit, you are the enemy. She is the queen narcissist, and she taught him to be just like her. She love-bombed him from the beginning tightening the grip constantly. He fears her, so in those moments where he can see

  They have to mimic you because there is nothing there.     I know, Sis, no one believes you. The narcissist has painted a picture that they are an incredible person—I’ve been there, done that! What amazed me was how those who have known me for years believe the words of a narcissist they had only known for a short period. What that said to me was they were never for me or knew me. I questioned my sanity, listening to how well my friends and family spoke of the narcissist. That charm and hero complex hooked them; they knew how to save the day, go out of their way, and pretend enough to convince everyone of one thing while they mentally and emotionally abuse you. Imagine them helping everyone until they are short on cash, then taking it out on you. I completely understand how you feel. Sadly, I have experienced this treatment within my relationships with men, ministry, and friends. Yes, you read that right. Those in the church hide behind “touch not my anointed.”Most of them

  So here I am in this lifeless city. How long will I be here this time? I do not want to get comfortable, but I have already been here two days too many. As I walked through looking for shelter, every street reminded me of my childhood. While I grew up devalued if I made the simplest mistake, male family members did the bare minimum and were exalted. If they failed, it was the women in the family's fault. I learned men were not to be held accountable early.  Wounds such as these were so deep I fought not to succumb to them. Even when I stood up for myself, I felt defeated. Men could do no wrong, but my breathing was an issue if I breathed too deeply. On many levels, I understood that growing up in a black household was one of the hardest things to do.  Explaining something to a man meant I castrated him with my mouth. Not being a doormat meant I was not submissive, and walking away told me I was weak. A woman can’t win. When did this start? Was it the misogyny we are governed by t