Best 1773 quotes in «abuse quotes» category

Free will? Either you follow the word of God, or you'll be punished with eternal hellfire. That's the same kind of "choice" an abuse boyfriend gives you: 'Either you do exactly what I say, or I'll beat the shit out of you.

Fricking son of a popcorn pimp!

Gaslighting is implanted narratives cloaked in secrecy.

Gender wars in a relationship. Men try to destroy the physical beauty of a women. Women try to destroy Man's life (career, reputation,dignity,living life) when they fight.

Gear up your boundaries, and make sure that you abide by them all.

Gestalt means whole, and so are you.

Getting in touch with the lovelessness within and letting that lovelessness speak its pain is one way to begin again on love's journey. In relationships, whether heterosexual or homosexual, the partner who is hurting often finds that their mate is unwilling to 'hear' the pain. Women often tell me that they feel emotionally beaten down when their partners refuse to listen or talk. When women communicate from a place of pain, it is often characterized as 'nagging.' Sometimes women hear repeatedly that their partners are 'sick of listening to this shit.' Both cases undermine self-esteem. Those of us who were wounded in childhood often were shamed and humiliated when we expressed hurt. It is emotionally devastating when the partners we have chosen will not listen. Usually, partners who are unable to respond compassionately when hearing us speak our pain, whether they understand it or not, are unable to listen because that expressed hurt triggers their own feelings of powerlessness and helplessness. Many men never want to feel helpless or vulnerable. They will, at times, choose to silence a partner with violence rather than witness emotional vulnerability. When a couple can identify this dynamic, they can work on the issue of caring, listening to each other's pain by engaging in short conversations at appropriate times (i.e., it's useless to try and speak your pain to someone who is bone weary, irritable, reoccupied, etc.). Setting a time when both individuals come together to engage in compassionate listening enhances communication and connection. When we are committed to doing the work of love we listen even when it hurts.

Give yourself mourning time and comprehend that expressing grief can modify your emotional and physical well being

God is the source of life. Life without God is hopeless. But life with God is an endless hope

Government workers are commonly as corrupt as the corporate government that employs them.

Growing up in a home of abuse, you struggle with the notion that you can love a person you hate, or hate a person you love. It's a strange feeling. You want to live in a world where someone is good or bad, where you either hate them or love them, but that's not how people are.

Grieve out your betrayal, mourn over everything that went astray, this is an important beginning step towards your healing.

Great God! hast Thou given men Thine own image that it should be thus cruelly defaced by the hands of their brethren!

Grieve your childhood and mourn the loss of those who failed you.

Grief does not demand pity; It requests acknowledgement" - Jude Gibbs

Guilt is a feeling that you owe a debt that you're not paying.

Has he ever trapped you in a room and not let you out? Has he ever raised a fist as if he were going to hit you? Has he ever thrown an object that hit you or nearly did? Has he ever held you down or grabbed you to restrain you? Has he ever shoved, poked, or grabbed you? Has he ever threatened to hurt you? If the answer to any of these questions is yes, then we can stop wondering whether he’ll ever be violent; he already has been.

Happiness was an evasive emotion that could not be fabricated, duplicated, or happened upon. It was something that was only handed out to a select few, but just like his mother, Ethan realized that he was never meant to have it.

Have you ever heard a woman claim that the reason why she is chronically mistreating her male partner is because a previous man abused her? I have never run into this excuse in the fifteen years I have worked in the field of abuse. Certainly I have encountered cases where women had trouble trusting another man after leaving an abuser, but there is a critical distinction to be made: Her past experiences may explain how she feels, but they are not an excuse for how she behaves. And the same is true for a man.

Have you ever suffered a sharp disappointment or a painful loss and found yourself looking for someone to blame? Have you, for example, ever been nasty to a store clerk when you were really upset about your job? Most people have an impulse to dump bad feelings on some undeserving person, as a way to relieve - temporarily—sadness or frustration. Certain days you may know that you just have to keep an eye on yourself so as not to bite someone’s head off. The abusive man doesn’t bother to keep an eye on himself, however. In fact, he considers himself entitled to use his partner as a kind of human garbage dump where he can litter the ordinary pains and frustrations that life brings us. She is always an available target, she is easy to blame — since no partner is perfect—and she can’t prevent him from dumping because he will get even worse if she tries. His excuse when he jettisons his distresses on to her is that his life is unusually painful—an unacceptable rationalization even if it were true, which it generally isn’t.

Having DID is, for many people, a very lonely thing. If this book reaches some people whose experiences resonate with mine and gives them a sense that they aren't alone, that there is hope, then I will have achieved one of my goals. A sad fact is that people with DID spend an average of almost seven years in the mental health system before being properly diagnosed and receiving the specific help they need. During that repeatedly misdiagnosed and incorrectly treated, simply because clinicians fail to recognize the symptoms. If this book provides practicing and future clinicians certain insight into DID, then I will have accomplished another goal. Clinicians, and all others whose lives are touched by DID, need to grasp the fundamentally illusive nature of memory, because memory, or the lack of it, is an integral component of this condition. Our minds are stock pots which are continuously fed ingredients from many cooks: parents, siblings, relatives, neighbors, teachers, schoolmates, strangers, acquaintances, radio, television, movies, and books. These are the fixings of learning and memory, which are stirred with a spoon that changes form over time as it is shaped by our experiences. In this incredibly amorphous neurological stew, it is impossible for all memories to be exact. But even as we accept the complex of impressionistic nature of memory, it is equally essential to recognize that people who experience persistent and intrusive memories that disrupt their sense of well-being and ability to function, have some real basis distress, regardless of the degree of clarity or feasibility of their recollections. We must understand that those who experience abuse as children, and particularly those who experience incest, almost invariably suffer from a profound sense of guilt and shame that is not meliorated merely by unearthing memories or focusing on the content of traumatic material. It is not enough to just remember. Nor is achieving a sense of wholeness and peace necessarily accomplished by either placing blame on others or by forgiving those we perceive as having wronged us. It is achieved through understanding, acceptance, and reinvention of the self.

(...) ha! what is hope? a butterfly in a box of demons, and nothing escapes the dark untainted, a mockery of politics and greed stamped with treason and dipped in myths and force-fed brainwashing going off after a time for the grand massacre of faith, humanity, and still we search, scorched feet for life but find only fake plastic trees satirical, ludicrous, and ironic

Haymitch isn't thinking of arenas, but something else. "Johanna's back in the hospital." I assumed Johanna was fine, had passed her exam, but simply wasn't assigned to a sharp shooters' unit. She's wicked with a throwing axe but about average with a gun. "Is she hurt? What happened?" "It was while she was on the Block. They try to ferret out a soldier's potential weakness. So they flooded the street, " says Haymitch. This doesn't help. Johanna can swim. At least, I seem to remember her swimming around some in the Quarter Quell. Not like Finnick, of course, but none of us are like Finnick. "So?" "That's how they tortured her in the Capitol. Soaked her then used electric shocks," says Haymitch. "In the Block, she had some kind of flashback. Panicked, didn't know where she was. She's back under sedation." Finnick and I just stand there as if we've lost the ability to respond. I think of the way Johanna never showers. How she forced herself into the rain like it was acid that day. I had attributed her misery to morphling withdrawal. "You two should go see her. You're as close to friends as she's got," says Haymitch. That makes the whole thing worse. I don't really know what's between Johanna and Finnick, but I hardly know her. No family. No friends.Not so much as a token from District 7 to set beside her regulation clothes in her anonymous drawer. Nothing.

He asks, in a softer voice, "Does your arm still hurt?" You touch it with your hand. The big ache is gone, leaving only the little, underneath ache that will gather and swell against the bone. The blood leaks out of the vein where he grabbed you. But you say, "It's better now.

Have a heart which does not trample down simplicity and humility.

Having worked for a utility company, I was aware of how corrupt they are with their own workers. What really surprised me is how corrupt utilities are with their own customers!

He acts like an animal, has an animal's habits! Eats like one, moves like one, talks like one! There's even something -sub-human -something not quite to the stage of humanity yet! Yes, something - ape-like about him, like one of those pictures I've seen in - anthropological studies! Thousands and thousands of years have passed him right by, and there he is - Stanley Kowalski - survivor of the Stone Age! Bearing the raw meat home from the kill in the jungle! And you - you here - waiting for him! Maybe he'll strike you or maybe grunt and kiss you! That is, if kisses have been discovered yet! Night falls and the other apes gather! There in the front of the cave, all grunting like him, and swilling and gnawing and hulking! His poker night! - you call it - this party of apes! Somebody growls - some creature snatches at something - the fight is on! God! Maybe we are a long way from beng made in God's image, but Stella - my sister - there has been some progress since then! Such things as art - as poetry and music - such kinds of new light have come into the world since then! In some kinds of people some tendered feelings have had some little beginning! That we have got to make grow! And cling to, and hold as our flag! In this dark march towards what-ever it is we're approaching . . . Don't - don't hang back with the brutes!

He beat me when you not here, I say. Who do, she say, Albert? Mr ____, I say. I can't believe it, she say. She sit down on the bench next to me real hard, like she drop. What he beat you for? she ast. For being me and not you.

He didn’t Hit her, but destroyed everything she had! I don’t know if She realised it was abuse, because it wasn’t physical. It was Mental!

-He drives recklessly or speeds up when he’s angry. -He punches walls or kicks doors. -He throws things around, even if they don’t hit you.

He displays of intellect consisted in vitriolic and well-seasoned mysterious messages, pure jibber-jabber. He followed her trail and he did all he could to make her believe in him. It was nice at first, he seemed smart, well -rounded and balanced, with great confidence and strength. She thought he was one of the men living in the shadows, the one that will help her to change her miserable life and give her that one in a life time opportunity. Is he testing her and her mental status? Is he the one out of his mind? Now he wants a meeting, he has some top-secret information, that can change the world, to share with her. Why her? Are you curious to know what is about? They have talked in the past using cryptic messages about “God's grace and all the hell we raised,” flashing lights, secret codes, rigged trucks, cell-battery explosions, life and dead, nothing more. At that time a wise man that was sat near her at the Coffee Shop told her: "God is great, beer is good and people are crazy" Did he know the man talking to her? Was that a premonition? Be careful what you wish for, the world is full of people looking around for their next victim...

HE ISN’T ABUSIVE BECAUSE HE IS ANGRY; HE’S ANGRY BECAUSE HE’S ABUSIVE.

Helpers carry a heavy load, they listen, love, cry, and often go into the depths of others’ pain. They sometimes enter darkness that no person should have to step into: the darkness of the abuse of a child, of mental health, of our cultural propensity to sit back and do nothing about it. They bear this each day.

He loves me so he hurts me To try and make me good. It doesn't work. I'm just too bad And don't do what I should. My memory has so many different sections and, like all survivors, there are so many compartments with so many triggers. I'll remember a smell which reminds me of a man which reminds me of a place which reminds me of another man who I think was with a woman who had a certain smell — and I'm back to square one. This is the case for most survivors, I believe. When we try to put together our pasts, the triggers are many and varied, the memories are disjointed — and why wouldn't they be? We were children. Even someone with an idyllic childhood who is only trying to remember the lovely things which happened to them will scratch their head and wonder who gave them that doll and was it for Christmas or their third birthday? Did they have a party when they were four or five? When did they go on a plane for the first time? You see, even happy memories are hard to piece together — so imagine how hard it is to collate all of the trauma, to pull together all of the things I've been trying to push away for so many years.

he placed his hands on my mind before reaching for my waist my hips or my lips he didn't call me beautiful first he called me exquisite - how he touches me

He pulls down one of my straps, slides his other hand in among the feathers, but it's no good, I lie there like a dead bird. He is not a monster, I think. I can't afford pride or aversion, there are all kinds of things that have to be discarded, under the circumstances. "Maybe I should turn the lights out," says the Commander, dismayed and no doubt disappointed. I see him for a moment before he does this. Without his uniform he looks smaller, older, like something being dried. The trouble is that I can't be, with him, any different from the way I usually am with him. Usually I'm inert. Surely there must be something here for us, other than this futility and bathos.

He made my mom call and tell Maureen I wouldn't be in to see her anymore. He said therapy is a waste of money. He also told her to upgrade the cable service and to order him a subscription to Military History magazine. The he went and bought a new fishing pole for Matt, who is dead.

He's smiling brightly, but I don't really know what he's thinking, because you can't always believe smiles.

Her mother always told her, “If he hits you, then you leave,” but Jack had never hit her, not with his fists.

Her voice is soft and kind. "Danny, do you feel safe at home?" No. There it is. I don't feel safe at home. I open my mouth to say something, and as I do I realize that like my other, I can't give it a name. Not out loud. Not even to Valkyrja. Because if I admit it, if I call it what it is, then I can't hide from it anymore either. It becomes real in a way I am not ready for. Might never be ready for. Ther will be no illusions of safety, no peaceful times alone in my room. There will only be times when he's not hurting me.

He says, "I would walk around the township and I could point them out, which girls had been abused. You could see it in them. There's a luminosity to incest. The taboo is so strong and the damage so great. Luminosity--do you understand? It travels across oceans and down generations. They shine with it.

He stared at the corner of the yellowed ceiling, at the spider web and its solitary occupant. “Why here?” he asked the spider. “You could choose anywhere instead of this house. I know I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have to be.” The spider said nothing. Come to think of it, Callum was sure the spider hadn’t moved even an inch in the last week. Maybe it was dead. Dead and crisp like the untouched wasp carcass on his window sill.

He unfolded his lanky frame and stood up on his bed, pulling the basement window open, followed by the screen. Two long legs in faded jeans were crouched down beside the faded flowerbed, knees pressed into the damp dirt. He shivered as the chill autumn air filled the bedroom. With the window open, the sound of late-night insects chirping in the distance joined the noises of the house. “Tess?” he asked, craning his neck to peer upward. “Everything alright?” She was backlit by the streetlight, her hair a halo of gold-framed blue. She gave an angry shake of her head. “Can I come in, Kyle?

He was good and then really good and then bad and then really bad, but since he was good I got lost in the thought that I could fix it.

[H]is flames were devouring her past.

He will experience that prickle, that shiver of disgust that afflicts him in both his happiest and most wretched moments, the one that asks him who he thinks he is to inconvenience so many people, to think he has the right to keep going when even his own body tells him he should stop.

Hiding my pain and acting strong, afraid to cry and show my tears, I struggle with all this years later.

his abuse makes her an anvil without spark

Hit the bottom and get back up; or hit the bottle and stay down.

His worst fantasy her reality he pulls the strings does unspeakable things A sadistic entrance for his acceptance