Kuebiko is a term I stumbled across when browsing through Pinterest. The page said, "27 terms to describes feelings you cannot put into words".
I specifically looked up Kuebiko. "n. a state of exhaustion inspired by acts of senseless violence, which force you to revise your image of what can happen in this world—mending the fences of your expectations, weeding out all unwelcome and invasive truths, cultivating the perennial good that’s buried under the surface, and propping yourself up like an old scarecrow, who’s bursting at the seams but powerless to do anything but stand there and watch".
This was how I have felt since I moved out of his home. I have never been able to state how what happened made me feel, until now. Kuebiko. He gave me Kuebiko. I grew up in an Adventist home with loving parents and a wonderful education opportunity. I had my issues, but nothing too serious until I hit high school. That was when I realized that I was depressed.
Not sad. Not just "having a bad day". No. I was manic depressive, suicidal and constantly on the verge of losing my mind.
So I turned to drugs, and to him. I still will not say his name publicly. I do not feel that that is my place. I will also say that yes, I could have avoided the entire situation, I could have never moved in with him, never turned to drugs, never let myself get "that bad". Alas it did happen. But I can say that once you actually realize that you are in a domestically abusive relationship... It does not end, unless something drastic happens.
I remember the day perfectly; It could have been yesterday with how vividly it continues to play in my nightmares and anxiety attacks.
May 5th, 2015. Early afternoon.
I was not in school or work at the time, so I was just hanging out around our apartment with our dog. He had not gone to work today either and was a little frustrated. We had been in the honeymoon stage of an abusive relationship for the past three days because he recently came home from a long trip and was actually missing me! But I knew the boom moment was coming very soon.
Not all domestic violence relationships are abusive all the time. We were really good at working the cycle. We had 3-5 days of honeymoon, 1-2 weeks of tension building, and then the boom. The boom was bad. The boom was scary. The boom was my hell on this earth.
Like a scarecrow, filled to the seams, ready to overflow, I was powerless and motionless, and felt completely stuck.
We argued, voices rose, it went from a fight to beat down rather quickly. I remember him winding up like a pitcher, and then I could not feel my face. Torn masseter muscle, dislocated jaw, ears ringing, tears streaming, broken heart.
He immediately knew what he had done, and tried to beg for forgiveness, tried to make me see it was my fault for pushing his buttons. My fault. My fault. It had to be, right? Why else would someone who loved me, hurt me?
According to Domestic Shelters, "An estimated 1.3 million women are victims of physical assault by an intimate partner each year". I am not saying that men do not get abused. I am a woman, so I am going to talk about women. We get abused, it exists, it hurts. He gave me Kuebiko. He made me feel like all the innocence that I once possessed and all the love that I gave so freely, was useless now. I felt like I had been robbed of my love, robbed of my bliss.
I always told myself that I would never let this happen to me. I would never be one of those girls with scarves around her neck hiding the bruises. I would love and be held, and hide from everyone and be scared.
He robbed me of that.
However the months have passed, and I begin to refuse to be defined by someone else's actions. He may have robbed me, but he did not take away my ability to have happiness, love, and bliss; He simply stole the the objects of beauty that I had stored up. I can still find new objects. My life satchel does not have holes; I will collect more treasures.
I find bliss in my family, in my friend and my boyfriend. I find love in nature, in animals, in colors. I find, and I hold on to every ounce of love that comes my way. Pure love, not poisoned love that turns to a boom. He may have given me Kuebiko, but the beautiful thing is that the dictionary is not made up of one single word. The dictionary has words to describe the healing process, the acceptance of my family, the love of my new romance, the beauty of escaping him, the beauty of growing up to say I was abused, and not to say I am being abused.
