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A Memoir by Amy


Amy Galan photographed by Casie Weathers.

A Memoir by Amy

I have no idea what’s going on. Everything is just flying by me, and I’m the one standing still. Rush of events shove me to the side and push me forward. Words and phrases like “order of protection” and “abuse” and “control” are thrown around like a piñata raining poisoned candy from the sky. My exterior is strong and upright but my inside is in fetal position, reluctant to even open my eyes. Every morning is a struggle and every dream- a nightmare. I feel like I’m running in place, yet I break into a sweat easier around him than anyone else. I see him walk towards me with his chest puffed and closed fists and looks me in the eye but smiles. He smiles the smile I’ve seen for almost 2 years, the smile that wrapped me in love time and time again, the smile I forgave. For from those same lips came worded poison and painful diction. Those closed fists both used to caress and hold me but to pin down and force all the same. The confusion has taken over all body systems now. The circulation to my heart gets faster and faster as he comes closer, nervous system overload, with my neurons darting across wired pathways yelling “run away!” but “stay and hear his voice one last time,” my ears burning for the words “I’m sorry, I love you,” but my mind knowing better than my heart, telling me “he’s lying, he’s always lying…”


Amy Galan photographed by Casie Weathers.

My heart, oh, the one organ most written about, yet my poor beating heart is bruised with so much abuse. I feel it about to give out. Beating so fast, too fast, each step he gets closer the urge to get up and leave intensifies, but my feet lack movement; my body feels like a thousand pounds. He smiles and begins to move his lips, those lips I kissed and cherished for so long, those lips that kissed every inch of my skin and yet hurt the deepest darkest places of my heart, mind and soul. “Warning: Danger ahead!!!” screams my mind, but my ears only hearing the words “Let’s work it out,” “I think about you every day,” “I wish you were here,” and oh, how I just want to say “yes, yes, lets go home to our peaceful chaos we called love.”


Amy Galan photographed by Casie Weathers.

I’m so full of wonder, you could fool me easily, but the small giant inside of me lifts my head and pushes the words “NO” from the deep depths of my soul. The small fetal Amy is holding up her hands in surrender screaming out “No more, please no more.” I can’t put her through anymore than she’s already endured. My glazed eyes start to clear the haze of his once gallant beauty as he becomes the very demon I fear most. The one who made me run with my son in my arms, far, far away and hide. He rears his ugly, sick head, taking control of who I thought was the man I thought I loved and spews the poison that begins to flow through my mind and infects my heart. The pain hits harder than any major league baseball player could hit a grand slam. Out of the park goes my sanity, the peace of mind I’ve worked so hard to gain back in our time apart.


Amy Galan photographed by Casie Weathers.

It only took 5 seconds for what took me 5 months to manage to gather the strength to come meet you and give you the other half of my soul. The smirk on your face triggers all memories and they flood my system. How could I have almost gone back? How could I have almost run back into those arms that would hold me and yet leave me vulnerable all at the same time? Pain turns to power in a moment sparked with rage and I muster the strength to tell you who you really are, yet you seem to think you can fool me by hiding behind beautiful words said over and over causing me to come crawling back. No more will I be your human puppet for you to pick up off the floor where you left me, straighten me up in front of everyone, play with me and make me feel like I’m the center of your world, but once the show is over, and the curtains have closed, you drop me where I am and leave me broken and disconnected from myself all over again waiting for you to come back for the next show time.


Amy Galan photographed by Casie Weathers.

I won’t be Eve in this dangerous Eden you’ve painted for me anymore, your apple no longer looks perfect and ripe; I’m starting to see the bruising and the snake head in the silver lining you seem to be painting. No longer will you beguile me with words and promises of hoping and praying we’d end up together. It’s like hoping for rain as I stand in the middle of a desert. Most nights I hardly sleep, please don’t take what you don’t need from me. You had all of me, my very identity was you and now you want to keep me in your grasp as I try to claw my way away from you. I fell asleep inside a fantasy and woke up feeling lost, what do I say? What do I do because my heart is slowly shattering and I don’t know what glue to use. So far nothing is keeping me together but my son, and even that you take from me, and those days seem like never ending eternities. Give me my soul back, my life back, my control back, my sanity back. Keep the memories, keep the emotions, and keep everything you thought you were giving to me. I want none of it. I want all of what made me, me, back.


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