I hate it when I go through a fresh episode of flashbacks.  It knocks me flat for days.

I just spent a week playing warcraft obsessively trying to run from it.

Two weeks ago I moved my computer from the smaller desk to the larger one.  That was a nice change as I have more space now.  However, I did not get around to shifting a lot of stuff that was in the niches on it.

One of those was a tiny shrine to the mother goddess.  The centerpiece is a statue of the Virgin Mary holding the Christ Child and raising one hand in benediction.

I shifted the shrine to my third desk, and as I put my hand on the statue, I got hit by the intensity of my memories.

No one I have ever known was as capable of rage as H.  He would be literally frothing at the mouth.  I always felt as if I had been in the solar plexus whenever he went into one of these rages. My mind would go blank and stunned, unable to react.  The verbal abuse was always aimed with the precision of a SWAT team sniper.  He knew where to hit me and he did so.

One day, out of the blue, as I was cleaning house, H caught me in the hallway and forced me against the wall to inform me that I was evil and the goddess did not listen to evil people.  He said she had forsaken me.

Then he went in and smashed my shrine to the goddess, breaking the statue (which I have since replaced) of Mary.  He used a brick.

Sovay was eight.

She came in to see what was going on and was there when he smashed all the delicate statues on my altar.  The one that hurt her most was that statue. She burst into tears.

You see, she used to say to me while looking at the statue, “That’s like you and me, Mom.  That’s how much you love me.”

And I always hugged her and told her, “Yes, just like you and me.”

Clearly the statue had come to symbolize our deep bond to her.

I felt as if my heart had been raped by the destruction.  Sovay stopped talking to her father for several days, except for single syllable answers to questions.

The first thing I did when we escaped from him was to replace the statue.

The old adage that “sticks and stone may break my bones, but words will never hurt me” is wrong

Broken hearts  hurt far longer than broken bones.

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