Baby, I’m BACK…again! (If you get the reference, we can be friends).

It’s been a while, but today inspiration struck.

I was perusing Twitter—its given name—when I saw a tweet that triggered something in me that I didn’t think it would, and that the original tweet never intended. The tweet was in response to Cardi B mentioning how she had “small feet” as a way to show her worth. The woman who retweeted it, jokingly said that she “caught another stray” because she has “big feet.”

Reader, I’m not sure why, but the first thing that came to mind was,

This is why mental and emotional abuse is so insidious.

I was going to post this on Twitter, but because I really want to sit with it for a while, and my blog has been gathering dust, decided to process on my platform.

I want to again point out that this may not be what the original tweeter was getting at, and I’m choosing to keep her handle anonymous, but it’s how it hit me. Look at her, creating art.

You see, I was in an abusive relationship for 7 years, and this illustrates one way in which that abuse manifested. I'm 5’1 (when I choose to stand up straight), and I’ve worn a size 7-7 1/2 sized shoe since middle school. Many of you know that I worked at Finishline for 4 years, and working there, and even just going to any sales rack at Nordstrom or Macy’s, I know that I have an average sized foot. This didn’t keep that ex from making “jokes” about how big my feet were. I say “jokes” because that’s how they were framed.

That he was joking. To the point that he called me a Hobbit more than once.

(Pause for laughter) It’s okay to laugh right now. In the moment, I did. If it was actually a joke, it would be a funny one. So, laugh.

Okay, you done? Good.

This ex, I now realize, used things about me to try to make him feel better about himself. Whether or not it actually did, I dunno, but I now see that this one in particular, was bred from his insecurities.

This ex wore what my athletic shoe store training and expertise told me was an average size for men. However, he felt it was small.

He felt small. And took it out on me.

My feet being what he thought were big, challenged him and his sense of self. So he had to tear me down. This is where the insidiousness comes in. He didn’t do it in overt and obvious ways. It was cloaked in “jokes".”

Abuse doesn’t always show physical signs. And not to participate in oppression olympics, because abuse is abuse is abuse, but mental isn’t easily detected. You can’t always see or hear what’s going on while in it, hence why, although it’s been a while since I left, I just had this particular epiphany.

Mental and emotional abuse make you question yourself.

Though I’d never been able to share shoes with my friends or mom (still can’t), though I knew that the shoes in my size were always the first to go, I began to wonder, “Do I really look like a Hobbit?” It was a gradual chipping away at my spirit.

This doesn’t go to say that all friends and loved ones who playfully tease are abusing you, but there’s a difference between a playful ribbing and someone picking on you, even if they say it with a smile.

Listen to your gut the first time.