As I reflect on the stories of women who have suffered abuse from their partners, I acknowledge it is a complex situation. I also acknowledge that, aside from concerns about safety, two reasons we don’t detect these toxic or abusive relationships early are:

1) People’s (delusional) perception of the relationship or the abusive partner

2) Our loved one’s shame about having an abusive partner.

 I wrote this poem as a reminder that in our excitement or envy about a friend or a family member’s “perfect” relationship, we should not forget to encourage open dialogue about any reservations they may have about the relationship. Specifically, we should create an open space dedicated to exploring our loved one’s interaction with their partner’s perceived faults. No relationship is perfect, so we should not expect such a relationship anywhere on this side of heaven. The presence of a perfect relationship should be a yellow light on the road to love.

Furthermore, shame is a hindrance to many things, including healing, progress, and getting help. No one deserves or knowingly seeks an abusive partner or relationship. As such, shame has no place in love. If you experience shame in your relationship, it is time to seek help to figure out why and how to eliminate it.

I am reminded of one of my favorite quotes from Paulo Coelho: “When we love, we always strive to become better than we are.” I think this description of love is a great yardstick to measure the authenticity of our romantic relationship with others and other people’s relationship with us. Love does many things, but, above all, it always protects its beloved. So, choose who you love carefully, and give people permission to love you. 

Love or something like it:

Better to have loved and lost

It’s true

Better to lose it, to cremate or bury,

to rest its remains in your heart

than to love and keep its bitter ghost

Better not to love at all than to love too much

Gentle hands, to the observers,

caressing your neck

massaging away tension

but they don’t feel the squeezing pressure

on the carotids

the draining of your spirit.

The purplish signs of passion

scattered about on the neck, arms, and legs

from reckless lovemaking

Jealousy raining on friends

whose hearts seem to have

forgotten their butterflies

They don’t feel

the bursting of your blood vessels

for your noncompliance

for your desire for space

for exploration of self, separate from other

The wholesome meals

The succulent meats,

the best wines—the rarest—

prepared and displayed

Praises abound at such lavish

excesses in your honor

The blush on your face confirming it all

It doesn’t matter now

They won’t hear you now

That you’re vegan

with anaphylaxis to anything grape

His voice is loud and captivating

and he knows you best

Better to have loved and lost

than to love and keep a bitter ghost

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