8.03.2024 and still personal is political!
My Surviving Coming Out Story.
A huge shoutout to everyone who helped me get through this – you saved me! To my daughter, your forgiveness means the world. To my friends who are my new family, your unwavering support was a lifeline. I am eternally grateful to the counselors from Frauenraum and Lara, who helped me navigate this challenging time. A special thanks goes to my gentle therapist who showed me the light and continues to guide me in discovering my inner glow. I also want to thank those who supported me during the trial, the German arts support system for making my dream a reality despite personal obstacles, and my publisher André Frère for believing in my artistic vision. You all saved me!
Content Warning: This writing explores themes of domestic abuse.
Shame, Guilt, and the Privilege
Shame and guilt are intricate emotions. They can play a positive role in social interactions, but societal structures often twist them into tools of control. While experiencing shame or guilt for one's actions can be a catalyst for growth, I often witness a disturbing trend: those who benefit from unearned privilege, often treating it as if it were solely the result of their hard work and effort, disregarding the advantages they inherited from their social class or background. These individuals hold positions of power and advantage, yet seem ignorantly disconnected from the the reality of those less fortunate. They cling to their privilege shamelessly, often exploiting it further through policies that limit social mobility, rather than using their advantages to contribute to a more equitable system.
Shifting the Blame, Perpetuating the System
In oppressive hierarchies, those in power often exploit shame and guilt to shift the blame onto the oppressed. They create convenient scapegoats, fostering a system where they can perpetuate their advantages through self-serving "charity." However, true generosity is humble. It avoids using good causes for public praise or self-promotion. It seeks to empower, not dominate.
Real change requires dismantling oppressive systems, not simply offering temporary recognition of those with less visible perspectives. Tracey Emin Studio could be an exceptional example of an empowering project. Anything less is just discrimination-washing, a façade of good deeds that ultimately maintains the status quo.
Speaking Our Truth: A Call to Solidarity
Speaking the truth about personal struggles as political is not a form of attention seeking; it's the only way to make change. From my conversations with countless women, and the stark statistics that paint a grim picture, I know the violence we face daily is still largely unspoken. The fear of being labeled a victim, a troublemaker, a vengeful woman – these are the very stigmas that keep us afraid of speaking out. This fear of being publicly shamed prevents us from discovering the true scope of the problem. It isolates us from other women who have faced similar situations. We need to break free from stigma, find each other, share our experiences, and fight together in solidarity. Only then can we dismantle the systems that perpetuate our oppression and build a future where women are truly free.
This is where my story begins. Shame and guilt will no longer control me. This is a call to all women: let us speak our truth. Let us break the silence, together.
On International Women's Day, celebrating female strength and empowerment, I finally feel ready to share my story. It's a story of overcoming the shame and guilt imposed by a system that silences women. I refuse to be a victim. I'm ready to speak my truth, offering a glimpse into the reality. My story will delve into the complexities of domestic abuse: my fight for justice, the fallout with my family, and my perpetrator's defense network. Change requires breaking the silence!
This day also serves as a reminder of the importance of self-care. While I started writing this text on International Women’s Day, I couldn't deliver it then. Just coming back from the hospital, I finally prioritized some neglected health issues. Now I feel only stronger and a far cry from last year when I was drowning myself in work to escape a brutal reality – an abusive relationship. My art book, a project that started years before the darkness, became a beacon of hope during this storm. The purpose of the story I want to come out today is not for pity or praise but as a testament to the strength of all women facing similar struggles. Let us break the silence, together.
The Grip of Abuse
The insidious nature of the abuse made it difficult to recognize. As a single mom yearning for romantic love, I had been alone for so long, always responsible for us, me and my daughter. This created fertile ground for the abusive tactics of the illusionary savior, the factual perpetrator. Like a frog in boiling water, I adjusted to the escalating tension, mistaking it for a new normal. That pattern lasted for five whole years! Explosive outbursts followed by weeks of silent treatment became a familiar cycle. It mirrored the fighting in my childhood home, blurring the lines of what was acceptable. My daughter from my past marriage whom I am living together with to this day, though never directly harmed, witnessed this emotional rollercoaster. She became a silent victim alongside me.
Despite the constant tension, I clung desperately to the hope that things would change. Perhaps naively, fueled by a belief in the power of love and forgiveness, I continued to hold on.
Shomi Wiliams's words resonate here: "Overextending yourself doesn't make people appreciate you more. It makes them value your time and comfort a lot less. People-pleasing is a race to the bottom."
And that's exactly how it felt. I hit rock bottom. It seems this dynamic is a multigenerational trauma for many women, conditioned to be doormats for their men.
I aptly paraphrased Farida D.: “Patriarchy teaches men to rely on women's invisible emotional labor, expecting them to be cooks, cleaners, secretaries, and sexual servants, all while disregarding their agency, boundaries, and basic human needs for reciprocity. Then, to guarantee men get served, it absurdly tells the women they can't survive without them.”
My gut instinct screamed that this wasn't right, but his manipulative words and actions slowly muted it. The gaslighting wore me down and I began questioning my perception of reality. No matter how I contorted myself to please him, how I adapted to his unpredictability, nothing changed. My attempts to improve, from "complaining" to learning non-violent communication, all felt futile. He lacked insight and the ability to self-reflect. My efforts were in vain. His behavior remained unchanged, and the toll on me was immense. Exhaustion, sleepless nights, deteriorating health, and weight gain plagued me. Alcohol became a temporary escape, but I've been sober now for over a year.
My focus shifted. No longer did I obsess over his unpredictable behavior, a constant dance with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, never knowing who would emerge. Instead, I turned my attention inward. How did I feel? What impact did his behavior have on me? How could I protect myself? The turning point came when I was physically attacked by him on the street. Witnessing bystanders intervene, their concern a stark reminder of the danger I was in, jolted me awake. For the first time, I considered involving the police, a step I hadn't dared to take before.
Alltagsfantasie: A Refuge and a Rebellion
Suddenly, the years of manipulation and self-doubt began to unravel. Alltagsfantasie became a form of self-preservation, a lifeline thrown against the suffocating grip of a trauma bond. Entering the relationship feeling unseen, a void the abuser initially filled, I yearned to reclaim my sense of self. This desperate need for external validation had become a cycle I knew I had to break.
Alltagsfantasie is not literature - it's an artist's book, a powerful exploration of self-empowerment, and a challenge to patriarchal structures. While I began working on it years before the storm clouds gathered, the hidden clues about the abuse were added during the final editing phase. It was a way for my inner voice to pierce the gaslighting fog finally. It was during this time that the cryptic hints in my art book began to hold deeper meaning. They felt like a roadmap to healing, a secret language finally understood.
Breaking Free: No Contact and Workaholicism
Working on the book became a turning point. I realized I couldn't prioritize a relationship that chipped away at my self-esteem, a relationship that left me feeling unseen and unheard. Going no contact was a crucial step towards healing, but it also led to a period of intense workaholism. Prioritizing the book above everything else stemmed from a deep need to reclaim my power, and a growing determination to leave the abusive relationship behind. Creating Alltagsfantasie became my weapon in this fight for self-determination.
This relentless focus, however, created a new kind of dissonance. Here I was, creating a work about empowerment, yet struggling to fully embody it in my own life. To bridge this gap, to make the book authentic, I had to confront a difficult truth. This meant facing the abuser in court, a daunting challenge, but a necessary step on my road to healing.
Finding Clarity Through Art
This was a turning point, but the journey to freedom was far from over. Legal proceedings loomed, adding another layer of stress. Yet, a seed of defiance had been planted. As I documented my experiences with the legal system, a strange clarity emerged. I collected a massive amount of evidence in the form of messages, emails, and testimonies from other witnesses. Compiling it all for the police investigation forced me to confront the reality of the situation. It was a process of turning my experiences into a clear narrative, and this gave me a new perspective and clarity. It was during this time that I truly realized the manipulative dynamic I was trapped in and the extent of the abuse.
The process of creating Alltagsfantasie coincided with a legal battle against my ex-partner. This wasn't about revenge; it was about speaking my truth and reclaiming my power. Following a lengthy investigation, the court first ruled him guilty of assault in absentia. But when he appealed, I was forced to confront him in court. The court upheld the initial verdict, finding him guilty. The legal battle highlighted a harsh reality: while some women bravely supported me, others, sadly, became complicit in scapegoating me. This, I believe, stems from a prevalence of internalized misogyny that many of us unconsciously carry. Similarly, some men who had also experienced his violence remained silent.
Unlearning the Script: A Story of Self-Determination
This isn't a story about dwelling on abuse; it's a testament to the human spirit's ability to rewrite its narrative. It's about rejecting societal scripts and writing my own, with the courage to live authentically.
For too long, I felt unseen and unheard, a ghost fading in the shadows. I entered a relationship hoping to fill that void, but instead, I found myself trapped in a dynamic that nearly stole my voice. Art has always been my sanctuary, a space where I could shed the mask and express myself freely. Everyday Fantasy is a celebration of reclaiming my senses and embracing my imagination. Here, curiosity and playfulness reign supreme. It's a world where I explore the fantastical and find beauty in the ordinary.
During the final stages of editing the book, radical honesty became a guiding principle. I couldn't create a work about truth without acknowledging my own experiences. So, with a subtle touch, I wove hints of a past illusion into the narrative. This was about acknowledging its presence and rejecting the role of the suffering woman, finding joy and pleasure again as an ongoing project - a form of defiance. I reclaimed my right to feel pleasure and create a life filled with beauty, even after the darkness.
Breaking Free from Trauma Bonds
The most insidious aspect of the abuse was the constant guilt I was manipulated into feeling. Any attempt to set boundaries or ask for reciprocity was twisted into a weapon, wielded against me. The silent treatments, stretching on for weeks and months at a time, became a form of emotional torture. I felt like a crumpled piece of paper, discarded and forgotten on the floor. This manipulation mirrored the dynamics of my childhood home. The familiar pattern – contorting myself into someone I wasn't, desperately yearning for love just to get a crumb of validation – required breaking free from its grip in both situations.
It wasn't easy. The urge for reconciliation, fueled by the trauma bond, was strong. But slowly, I began to understand, that I had to shift the full focus on my feelings and recognize that it wasn't just me being too sensitive or falling for his gaslighting. My secret torment, was my reality, a hell I concealed to be loved.
But true love isn't pain. Love is caring, gentle, and maybe even (not so sado-maso) just boring "vanilla." It's a place of safety, gentleness, respect, and acceptance - it’s where you can be truly vulnerable without betraying your authenticity or staying silent to preserve peace.
As Zara Bas rightly says, "If you have to sacrifice your voice to keep the peace, it's no longer peaceful. You are internalizing the chaos instead."
I stopped seeking love from someone who couldn't provide it and started focusing on my healing journey.
Taking a Stand
There was no turning back after that first step. It was like jumping off a cliff – exhilarating but terrifying. I knew I was in for a fight, a brawl till the bitter end. Of course, the first jabs came from his momma – that was predictable. What I wasn't prepared for was the total lack of comprehension from the ones who were supposed to have my back – my damn family. Their words hammered at me: "Forget it," "Move on," "Stop whining." As if my story was some petty squabble, not a fight for my very sanity. Then came the labels: "drama queen," "attention seeker," and the most hurtful being "selfish" for daring to speak about my pain while others had it worse. These were the people who were supposed to be blood?
It makes you wonder, doesn't it? Maybe it's a Polish thing, this whole "suffering Olympics." Generations were raised under a constant boot – Nazis, Soviets, you name it. Maybe they forgot, or perhaps never learned, how to show empathy. Maybe survival meant swallowing your pain and keeping it moving. But Stockholm ain't got nothin' on me! They could keep their guilt trips. I was done.
It was time to stop justifying their lack of support. Maybe I once thought something was wrong with me, but no – I deserved their support, and they chose not to. Why invest in explaining their choices when I could focus on how they made me feel and protect myself? It feels that I did not matter and It hurts. I wasn't built to suffer in silence, and I wouldn't be silenced any longer.
Beyond the Borders
They say the middle class in Germany adheres more rigidly to traditional gender roles, while Poland, with its communist past, supposedly champions equality for women. Here's the crux of the issue: how can a country with a history of oppression, like Poland under the Catholic Church's strong influence, suddenly become a standard bearer for women's rights? The answer lies in the complexities of Poland's history.
During the communist era, facing state repression, the Catholic Church became a symbol of resistance and freedom for many Poles. This was a unique situation, as the Church has often historically aligned with rather authoritarian structures. In this context, the communist government, despite its flaws, offered greater social equality for women compared to the traditional structures supported by the Church. This paradoxical twist persists in post-communist Poland, resulting in a smaller pay gap yet the harshest abortion laws in Europe.
Polish paradox
This historical paradox deepens when a politician like Jaroslaw Kaczynski wields accusations of "oikophobia" like a weapon. This tactic aims to shame those who criticize the country's shortcomings on women's rights. It's essentially a guilt trip – you're accused of not loving your homeland simply for pointing out its flaws and demanding better treatment for its citizens, especially women. This manipulative tactic silences dissent and stifles progress. I understand the potential for guilt trips and accusations of betrayal - perhaps I would even be labeled a disloyal daughter or someone who disrespects my heritage.
Single Motherhood in Warsaw
Being a single mom in Warsaw felt like existing on the fringes, invisible amidst the city's glittering facade. There were times when 600 Złotych (150 Euros) a month was all I had to scrape by on. Even accounting for inflation, it was simply impossible to cover very minimum needs - and I don't have an idea how we survived - there is no social welfare in Poland and I had no choice but to be reliant on my dysfunctional family who shamed me for my selfish choices to be a bad mother.
Capitalist Warsaw offered little mercy to the struggling single mother – me and my "bastard" child, as the whispers sometimes dared to label us. It was suffocating, a constant undercurrent of feeling unwanted and undeserving. The negativity wasn't limited to the societal whispers. "Daydreamer" they called me, for wanting to excel at a job that offered nothing but scraps. "Whiny," "not good enough," "too ambitious, underpaid" – these were the labels that clung to me in the gig economy, a place where desperation was preyed upon. I will not forget those colleagues on regular contracts who accused me of not participating in their strike. Classic scapegoating. Stuck in this cycle, I started to believe their words, convinced I didn't deserve better.
Berlin is not patronizing me, I can be myself
Maybe Germany isn't some paradise of women's liberation either. But here, in Berlin, I feel a stark difference. The air itself breathes freedom. Here, I can be myself, and embrace my "disobedient" choices without the constant judgment. Sure, it wasn't easy – it was a hell of a struggle. Moving here with my small then daughter, finding her a good school, and a place to live, making new connections, re-assessing my professional path, learning the language – not the easiest, the new culture, just being the expat, trying to adapt, also getting a new education, learning the structures – this was a time investment that cost me around 10 years. You only live once – I couldn't start again and again, the clock was ticking. But it was all worth it, and I do not regret it.
Here I feel protected, not patronized, but empowered. My prior traumatic experiences left me vulnerable to the vicious cycle of abuse that felt like home. However, here I was finally able to break the chain of this patriarchal conditioning and receive incredible support from my "new family," my friends, and the women's support institutions (Frauenraum and Lara,). From last summer I was privileged to get a somatic therapy that supports my healing. In Poland, I was just a "spoiled brat" for daring to choose a different path. The weight of societal shame for being a single mom, of daring to deviate from the script, pressed down on me like a leaden cloak. The stigma clung to me like a second skin. Here, Empowered by my new homeland, Mr. Kaczynski's pronouncements about women's dignity residing in traditional subservience ring hollow and irrelevant.
Breaking the Cycle
Berlin wasn't a magic solution, but it was a lifeline. Here, I can breathe. Here, I can heal. From here, I can finally rewrite the narrative – my narrative, my daughter's narrative, the narrative for all the women trapped in the cycle of shame and disbelief.
Finding My True Family
Not being supported by the ones I expected to have my back hurt the most. It felt like a fresh betrayal, a gut punch reminding me I wasn't as important to them. But that feeling also became a catalyst. Instead of yearning for validation from the outside, I began focusing on discovering my inner strength, and my resources.
This journey led me to find a true family – a circle of friends who became my unwavering support system. My daughter, too, we reunited and became a source of strength. Witnessing the fallout of the relationship, I knew I had to create a safe space for her to heal. Compensating for what she'd been exposed to became a priority.
Nightmares of a Lost Reality
Confusion lingers. Waking nights blur the line between past and present. The five years spent in a bizarre intimacy, a cruel illusion disguised as love, feel like a dream - a beautiful, nightmarish dream I just woke from. His words, promises of a connection I craved, were empty shells. One moment I was cherished, the next discarded.
Daylight pushes it away, relegating it to a bad dream. But at night, the dream returns. He's there, sneaky and entitled, violating my boundaries. Rejecting him feels like progress, yet the nightly repetition exposes the depth of the wound. Waking up, I'm left with a chilling sense of it all being fresh like we just broke up yesterday.
A Work in Progress
It's been a year and a half since going no contact, and I'm still raw. The emotional scars are there, a constant reminder of the ordeal. I haven't "moved on" fully. C-PTSD and physical health issues linger, a cruel tax on my resilience—the feeling of stolen years, stings deeply. But hitting rock bottom became a wake-up call. There are moments of anger, too. Anger at him, at my family and those misogynists who scapegoated me, the societal structures that perpetuate gender inequality. But this anger is a catalyst for change. It fuels my fight for a future where women are safe and empowered. My suffering won't be in vain. I'm determined to turn it into something good.
A Journey of Shared Strength
I know, deep down, it wasn't my fault. There's no blame to carry. I was trapped in a vicious cycle of intermittent reinforcement – a twisted game of love bombing and guilt trips induced by ghosting for daring to speak up. The tactics mirrored conditioning Andrew Tate's tactics – addiction through reward-punishment manipulation.
It wasn't love. It was a lie. And I'm here to expose this lie, this romanticized masochism woven into songs and fantasies. Sleeping Beauty? It is a cautionary tale, not a romantic ideal. Being kissed unconscious is assault, not a meet-cute. We need to shatter this narrative entirely.
Disobedient Daughters
I disobey this narrative. There's no happily-ever-after in abuse. My story is a testament to that. And it's a call to action for all the women trapped in similar dynamics. We are not Sleeping Beauties waiting to be awakened. We are warriors, strong and capable of rewriting our own stories. It's a story about our joy, fantasy, and pleasure, the quest for them - the tools of resilience we discovered along the way.
Building a Sisterhood
Healing for me means reaching out, and building a sisterhood with other survivors. Single moms, immigrant women, refugees – these aren't victims, but warriors who navigated hardship with bravery. Together, we are a force.
I don't owe blind loyalty to a homeland that feels like a love-hate puzzle. The beauty of Polish culture, the language that now feels heavy with unspoken shame – are contradictions that many Poles on emigration wrestle with. I am a lone wolf, adrift at sea. I don't feel much connection to the Polish diaspora either, but I guess it could all be explained by the similar mechanism of growing up in a dysfunctional system – we can't bear each other because of the wounds inflicted by our oppressors, be it parents or the country itself. English feels like a haven, a distance from this awkwardness. But someday, when my native tongue feels like a safe space again, I'll return to it.
The Fight Continues
The fight for women's liberation in Poland? It's far from over. Financial independence and a smaller pay gap are steps forward, but true freedom and agency are still distant dreams. The unpaid and invisible labor of care, sexual and beauty double standards (Modonna-Whore dichotomy), and the lack of bodily autonomy – these battles rage on. Newly elected politicians, promising easier abortion access, won on women's votes. Now in power, they claim helplessness, leaving Poland with Europe's harshest law. This betrayal stings, but Polish women, united, will keep fighting for their right to choose.
More Than a Muse
My story is etched in scars, but also a story gilded with the possibility of a future where women are not creations for others. We can be creators of ourselves for ourselves, shaping our narratives and indulging in our needs and desires without compromise. The path to self-discovery isn't easy. It requires defying draconian societal norms, those that deny women pleasure and joy. It requires breaking free from the "female martyrdom" that weakens us. In Poland, under the constant scrutiny of a patriarchal society, this fight seems even more daunting.
Sisterhood and Solidarity: A Long Road to Equality
I disobey and refuse to be silenced. I, along with countless other women, left that system behind. We found freedom in celebrating our sisterhood, but the fight continues. The anti-feminist rhetoric, the dismissal of rape as a property crime – these are daily reminders of the long road ahead. This struggle is still ongoing worldwide. The rise of the manosphere, online communities that promote a view of masculinity focused on dominance over women, and the disturbing trend of "trades wives" are just a few examples. These phenomena expose a disturbing reality – for some, particularly those with the privilege of leisure, gender equality seems to be a performance, a fashionable cause to champion but not a lived experience.
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Beyond the Facade: Dismantling Shame and Unmasking True Beauty
The manufactured beauty industry thrives on shame. It perpetuates the feeling that we are all inadequate and require fixing, that something is inherently wrong with us. This relentless message not only diminishes our self-esteem but also distracts us from the true wellspring of beauty within. The poet John O'Donohue offers a thought-provoking distinction: while beauty is an inherent and sacred quality, glamour is rooted in artifice and manipulation.
Our current image-obsessed culture seems to confuse these two concepts, leading to a troubling "evacuation of interiority." My exploration, both through personal reflection and the insights of O'Donohue, has led me to believe that true beauty lies within. There's an undeniable connection between our inner world and our outward expression. By reconnecting with our authentic selves, we tap into a wellspring of inner beauty and resources. This inward journey is not just self-serving; it allows us to fully experience the beauty of life, in all its facets – the beauty of our personalities, emotions, relationships, and the natural world.
Alltagsfantasie: Everyday Fantasy. Love is not pain and beauty is for everyone - this is my manifesto.
The concept of beauty is a matter of my ongoing artistic exploration. In my visual art, I strive to capture the unseen beauty that resides within all of us. This inherent beauty is a birthright, a gift bestowed upon us by nature. It's undeniable that beauty is a powerful force, an ephemeral quality that permeates not only ourselves but the natural world around us.
The saying "We are all driven to recreate the feeling of our first wound so that we can change the ending" really struck a chord with me. Looking back, I realize how much of my life has been haunted by a sense of despair rooted in a childhood experience (I was beaten). This feeling of helplessness often led me to recreate that dynamic in my relationships, falling into a masochistic pattern. But something has shifted. Recognizing this pattern as repetition compulsion has been a game-changer. I truly believe this moment of awareness, combined with somatic work – reconnecting with my body from the inside out – is the key to finally showing up for the younger me who needed healing and deserved joy, not punishment.
Some may say I'm chasing illusions, living with my head in the clouds. But for me, it's the only way to live. Live your fantasy, yes, but don't let it blind you to reality. We must critically examine existing power structures, and challenge the norms that confine us. Alltagsfantasie is my invitation to do just that. It's a call to sharpen our vision, both individually and societally, as we search for self-empowerment.
P.S. Follow your dreams, not your boyfriends!
P.P.S. Support my dreams and get a copy of Alltagsfantasie!