This your first time in hell or are have I just not seen you around before? Pull up a stump but watch out for the nails, they hurt. Me? Oh, I’m just ゆうき, on my planet we pronounce it Yewwkey, on my planet it means “courage”. I don’t think I’m fit for the name because I don’t have much courage. I try, mostly I try really hard to be brave and strong and courageous. I stand up, I speak out. But mostly I get knocked down. I get up again, every time though…no matter how much it hurts or how hard it seems. It is important to me that I try my hardest to live up to my name.

You ask how I ended up here in hell? Yes…I wonder myself. I’m not good with directions so perhaps I took a wrong turn. Once, I lived in a soft, cosy nest. I had a father who loved me so very much and taught me Important Things. To speak my truth. To be compassionate. That, despite our varied wrappings, we are all humans underneath. Peace is possible. I am here because the world called me. …things like that. But one day my father was taken away from me and I was left with his mate, who was not my mother. I have my Aniki, but he has not always been too supportive or present. He has his own burdens and they are not light.

Life with Father’s Mate was unbearable. I suffered many kinds of torture. Some I might talk about. Others I cannot. I thought that I would die from the agony. I wished for death. But every morning I found I was still alive. I didn’t want to be. How did I keep going in those days? Some things helped me. My kind father’s words. Music. Pretending that the torture wasn’t happening to me. Making up stories about happy girls having happy, normal lives filled with love and security. The wounds are still here, in my heart. I don’t know how to make them go away.

One day I was a grown woman. I had survived! I began to live a bit. In fear. Not confident. Not living up to my name. But I took careful steps and began to find that I could become more courageous, more strong. An idea came to me ~ I was a beautiful person. Not because I looked beautiful on the outside, but because I had many beautiful qualities on the inside. Compassion. Kindness. Empathy. Love. A few small kernels of Wisdom. Encouragement. Generosity. Loyalty. When I felt these things, I believed that the worst was behind me. I believed that my future would be wonderful and full of love and happiness. I did not understand that I was not healed. That I was still a tiny bird without all my feathers. A weak cub without all my skills. I had survived, but I was not healed. And it was at that time that I met Abusive Husband (AH). I thought he was a kind person, a nice person. I watched him and children would run to give him hugs. He would spend an evening on the floor with a puppy. He would give freely to other people. I believed that he must be the person for me.

I was wrong.

I spent the next, the largest part of my life in another form of abuse. I have had my mind twisted around and back upon itself. I had reality turned inside-out. I was told that everything I thought, believed was wrong. I was told that my pain wasn’t real. I was told that my cries were selfish. I was told that I was meaningless. That I had no value. I was told I was stupid. That I was ugly. That my existence was meaningless. The person who made a promise to care for me, protect me and love me did not honor his promises. He took me as a slave, as chattel. And I believed he had a right to.

So…one day I found myself chained to the wall here in hell. I don’t remember which door I took to get here, I thought I was surviving the best I could. But here I am. Remembering my father’s kind words. Remembering I have survived before. Remembering that somewhere inside of me the beautiful me must still exist. Right now I’m scared. I’m shy. I can’t stop crying some days. But I will continue to try to live up to my name. One day I hope I will. In the meantime, I have tried to create a cosy nest for myself. A place where I may try to heal. A place where I can whisper my truth to myself so that I don’t forget. A place where I can say that I do have worth ~ look at my nest, I created something good here, right?

Please count on my support if you find that you have been through a similar life as mine. If you are bewildered how you ended up here, take comfort. You are not alone. Here’s my hand…


2 thoughts on “About

  1. Be strong, Yuki! There must be beautiful things in life that make it much more worth living! Every small things count: a kind friend who tell you how beautiful you are even though you are hairless, a devoted neighbor who tells you how nice your cake tastes even though it is burnt or a young child who keeps mispronouncing your name in a very cute way. 😀
    They can turn your hell into a small paradise with thing as mere as a sincere smile!

    • Thank you for your wonderful insight and kind words, Hari. For every cruel person, there are many more kind people and many more lovely experiences to make life good. Thank you for reminding me of that!

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