Hear me Roar!


A barrage of horrible spewed from my abuser. Overwhelmed and cast into severe depression, brief interludes of escape were necessary. Without these moments of relief, inevitably, I would have ended my existence. Avoidance and lying to myself acted as two forms of passive resistance that provided a temporary avenue of liberation. A migraine or another malady, a call to work duties, each dodging tactic briefly kept me from his clutches.

Fortunate, or not, to possess a mind adept in denial, when the sad realities of life grew too oppressive, I refused to acknowledge what threatened to drive me to the edge of a breakdown/suicide. Rather than confront, I hid in the recesses of my mind, promised myself, tomorrow will be a better day, and he will change.

Often, I attributed his wretched behaviors on his dissatisfaction with his job or of being stressed, tired, having a headache, stomach upset, toothache, papercut, or a hangnail. My mind refused the truth, and excuses for his tirades ran rampant. Pure insanity!


Seldom, the criticism rested where it belonged, on him, and existing only to please, I transformed into his complacent puppet with no thought or mouth of my own. The puppeteer pulled each thread connected to my being, and in essence, this little miss ceased to be.

Another reason for breaking free from the devil’s grasp arose. Advised a rare cancer took up residence in my body, my focus went from him to myself. Issues surrounding the condition commanded my attention, not only on a physical plane but on emotional and psychological levels as well. The all-encompassing efforts of acceptance and action bubbled and boiled until the resulting steam pushed me toward an exodus. A slow migration away from the one bent on destroying me began, and a silver lining peeked through the gigantic dark, ominous cloud of the “Big C.”

The battle with a new life-threatener, invisible and assaulting from within, set me on a course where a much-needed sense of self rooted and flourished. Five years later, with deranged hubby’s wrath off the charts, the most rewarding avenue for freedom arrived, divorce. A legal termination that proved to be the ultimate liberator. As the ties to a battering husband severed, I re-gained me, and manipulation, brainwashing, demoralizing, beatings, and homicidal threats vanished (well, almost).

All by myself, I make choices, and should a miscalculation arise, the error stems from my own doing, not another. This brought me to a wondrous place far from my expectations. Now, Ms. O’Hara is alive, well, and an untethered entity capable of thinking with the use of her own intellect. No more cowering in a corner waiting for a hand, fist, or foot to strike. Now bruises come from my own innate clumsiness, not by another’s sick need to punish. Guns, knives, scissors will never be held to my head and throat again.


A near lifetime of abuse sent me to travel the lonely streets of Post Traumatic Stress, but I no longer fear to deliver my voice, loud and clear, stand for what I believe in. Sweet and precious liberty is mine, and I reside in a far healthier place. Try and take this freedom away, break my resolve, and witness what is unleashed.  Strength and resilience, have fashioned an individual who is secure, happy, and unwilling to budge from the enlightened ground she’s gained.

Yes, threaten, and you shall hear me roar!


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