My Only Sunshine: A Story for Domestic Abuse Survivors

by Shannon Jump

I didn’t ask to be abused. But I did choose to marry him. And then I chose to stay, even after the abuse started.

Some days you wonder why the hell you didn't kick them to the curb the second it happened. Other days you're convinced you were the reason the infidelity happened in the first place, that there’s something wrong with you. That you’re not pretty enough, thin enough or simply nothing special—easily replaceable.

Sometimes I wished I had it in me to be the heartless one.

I think if you were to ask any battered woman, she would be able to recall the exact moment when her partner first crossed the line between abuse to assault. Most likely, she wishes she could forget that moment but more importantly, she wishes it never happened. It's a defining moment in her life, one she knows will leave her with no more than two options: stay or go. Live or die.

But as my mother always used to say, “You can hope in one hand and shit in the other and see which one fills up faster.”

I think that’s a common mistake that the loved ones of addicts make; we’re often oblivious to the fact that the addiction actually has nothing to do with us, that we’re not the ones battling the demons.

Time doesn’t really heal anything, it just makes the pain more bearable, idling in the background while the scars fade.

Neither of you will ever be perfectly innocent again, but you’ll probably be perfect together.