No man will ever love or marry you. There is something wrong with you that’s why you’re STILL single. You’re not smart enough or pretty enough. Look at that stomach, you need to lose that gut. You don’t dress nice enough. Look at you… a hot mess. You don’t deserve to be happy. Your hair is ugly in its natural state; I don’t know why you don’t perm it. You’re not competent in the workplace that’s why haven’t landed your dream job. You’ll never achieve your goals. You’re unintelligent, incompetent, and critical; I don’t know what your friends see in you.
My abuser hurls these insults at me constantly, morning, noon, and night. The StrongBlackWoman in me attempts to combat these insults but the WeakBlackWoman in me succumbs. She believes these words.
My abuser is with me 24 hours each day and 7 days each week, never takes a vacation. The whispers in my ear are oftentimes overwhelming. And although they HURT, I believe they’re true.
My abuser has been a secret until now. This is the first time I’ve ever told anyone about my abuser. The first step to recovery is admitting that you have a problem. And so, Scribbles & Tostitos Readers, allow me to introduce my abuser.
My abuser is Me.