Clinging to HOPE like it was my life raft!
Me and HOPE have a very close relationship.
Let me finish telling you my story about the word “HOPE” and what it means to me.
The fighting in my marriage started to intensify once I told my husband that I was leaving him and started my counseling. He didn’t like what was transpiring and he was trying harder and harder to cage me like an animal, but it was too late. Come hell or high water, I was fighting for my sanity and I was getting out.
One night, I came home, and he started with me, he had never been physical except for holding me back and physically trying to restrain me, but this night was different. He was badgering me in the kitchen and he accidentally stepped on my foot and his anger got the best of him. When I told him to get off of my foot, he twisted, smashing and grounded his foot down into mine, he knew he was hurting me as I could see the satisfaction in his eyes. This brought the fear of my past physical abuse to the forefront and I knew it would only escalate.
I will be honest, prior to this night, I had started fighting back when he would barricade me with his body. Yes, I would try to break free, escape the torture and a few times I hit back trying to get free. Then he would manipulate and used me fighting back against me. He would try to convience me into thinking I was crazy and abusive. He would even threaten to call the cops on me because he said I attacked him. Not, this night, it was the final straw!
All I wanted was peace and quiet from all the arguing all and verbal abuse that I was going through. The next day plan “B” kicked in and I moved out immediately. I hadn’t even begun to do the repairs to the mobile home. I knew the mobile home would expose me to health risk but it out weighed staying in my situation and continue to let him abuse and cage me like an animal. I left to save my sanity and the only things I took with me was “HOPE“!
Living in that mobile home was a struggle, one thing after another would happen, if one thing went wrong so would another. I just couldn’t seem to catch a break. The one thing that I knew was, I couldn’t lose my “HOPE” because if I did, I would lose my life.
I’ve been asked a few times about the story of my tattoo. I am always happy to share my story because it is my story of HOPE.
Now, my story is not pretty, but if it will help give someone else “HOPE“, all of my suffering wasn’t for nothing.
I have a few tattoos and they all have stories and a meaning behind them, they all represent some part of my life. To look at me, most people would never think I have tattoos because I have always placed them in areas that are not usually visible, especially since I have a career in management and alway need to look professional.
This tattoo is on my foot, and it is the most visible one I have, especially since I live in Florida and we wear short year round. This tattoo has sparked a few conversations from others being curious about it, people always seem to be curious.
This tattoo is very special to me, all the way down to my choice of the placement on my body. It is located on my right foot, right under my ankle bone, near my heal. The foot is the lowest part on the body because I knew I couldn’t fall any lower than that or I would loose my struggle. My tattoo is simple, I choose to have the word “HOPE” tattooed in that spot and the “O” is a heart, my heart. I chose the word “HOPE” to remind myself to never lose HOPE. I knew that if my “HOPE” surpass the lowest point in my life I would lose myself. I knew if I lost my “HOPE“, in turn I would lose even more because I would lose my “FAITH”.
Today I still look at this tattoo below with no regrets, because it reminds me of who I am and where I came from, what I have endured and how I have survived on my “HOPE” and FAITH.
You’re not alone, you are loved,
The Girl that was Abandon